Death Of An Assassin

*Morphine* · 06-04-2013, 10:02 AM

aaaand the biggest asshole of the year goes to:

Thank you Lube ♥

Migrating south to escape Jack Frost?s merciless clutched seemed like the most beneficial option for the sensitive wraith who loathed the winter months, but the warmer climate of the southern region was not what attracted her to it. Rather, the rancid scent caught between jagged breaths that stemmed from her state of illness was the thing which intrigued the maleficent wench and forged an anger that brewed within her chest, only fueled by righteous hatred at the recognition and foul memories that rushed back to ensnare her head with bitterness. Vi had failed in her mission, had failed the woman who had barked the sinister command of death, and had thus failed the planet as she allowed filth to populate its surface. But no matter, the white witch would just finish Vi?s unfulfilled duty herself despite the fact that her reasons to do so had long since expired the moment she had been banished from Tortuga.

Like a bloodhound she tracked the specific aroma of the traitor, muzzle just barely sweeping the ground while elongated limbs propelled her in the direction her senses led her, intense concentration working her legs faster in an attempt to scour for the source of her anger. A snort brushed past her nostrils as the scent grew prominent within her nose, muzzle crinkling with a simultaneous mixture of disgust with the stench and delight that she was drawing nearer and nearer to where she supposed Cyanide resided. So far from Collision?s protection, my dear? Once the scent was almost intoxicating because of its strength, metallic eyes removed themselves from the ground to search her surroundings for any trace of the proclaimed assassin she stalked. Instead of finding the being that was the traitor, all that could be found were dainty pawsteps in the muck, leading in the direction that Morphine had been traveling ? but the scent trail abruptly dispersed there, signifying that the imprints did belong to Cyanide and causing a devious smirk to flicker across the pallid wraith?s visage. May nature do its bidding. Instead of traversing straight through the mud like that who came before her, the woman sought a safer path for she was bright enough to know the dangers of the marsh, maneuvering quickly up a ledge that led to elevated ground upon which she would enjoy the presumed show.

She ran a short stretch of course, dampened grass, silver depths peeled to the muddy area beneath her vantage point in search for Cyanide. At last, the petite figure of the assassin was found, half consumed in the muck as she waded in it, seeming to sink with each lumbering stride she took. Morphine observed the spectacle through greedy eyes that lusted to see Cyanide drown in the mud, a sinister grin warping her visage as her eyes? desire was fulfilled. Black nails kneaded the earth beneath her in anticipation as the mud bubbled up to the traitor?s neck, soon devouring her muzzle and continuing to consume Cyanide?s body until her apex submitted to its fate. Breaths came out in rasps as her gaze remained fixated upon the area where the assassin had disappeared, just lying in wait to see if Cyanide would pull a Houdini and manage to struggle free from death?s grip. If any would wish to ruin this moment for the wraith and attempt to save the dying creature, she?d be sure to push them into the muck and secure the same fate upon them.

Speech,

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