Like I'm Fighting for Truce in Babylon
11-07-2014, 10:00 AM
All had been going so well. Svetlana was back, she did not thirst for her sister's blood, and above all she sought to return home. Valeriya could not have wished for more. A broad grin split the taller girl's lips and she parted her jaws to reply when she appeared. That woman. That dark pelt which brought to mind the smell of milk and feelings of despair. That mask which marked so many of them as having shred lineage, but somehow Valeriya did not feel the same kinship as before. She turned, squaring her shoulders to the older woman. Her mother. When she'd left Valeriya had been filled with a burning desire to hunt her down and bring her home. It had been a task fueled by fear and love, each as potent as the other, and it had driven her. But so much time had passed since then. The fire that had once filled her to the brim was banked now, cool and waiting for a task more worth it's heat. Finding Sigmarr and Sindri, perhaps. Going to war for her homeland, protecting those she loved. But fighting for a mother's love?... No. " I?m not the only one who was lost and found," her sister would tentatively claim. She sounded nervous, and rightly so. It seemed at least one of them had been around long enough to learn that Valeriya was one to hold a grudge. How dare you, she thought with cold malice. Valeriya stepped forward slowly, head low and contemplative. She would trek paw by paw in a ring around her mother's still form. She looked lean and haggard. She'd fallen on hard times, it would seem. The auburn Queen could not restrain a grain of satisfaction from burrowing into her mind. Finally she stood before the once-Queen once more. Cerulean eyes were hard with glacial ire. "I want an explanation," she would hiss, every inch the powerful woman she might one day become. Valeriya noted with a hint of satisfaction that she stood taller than Raisa now by several inches. She had been a spindly juvenile when she'd last stood in her mother's presence. Now her plumage was vibrant, the set of her shoulder's strong and toned by hardships she should not have faced at such a young age... Oh she was angry, but somehow lacked the potent rage that usually overcame her. She was reserved, wondering if the grey bitch deserved even that. "Talk" "You" Think |
Current time: 11-06-2024, 06:29 AM
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