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*Noire* · 04-04-2013, 10:27 PM

The monster had been lurking in the shadows of the terrain, with the mud and muck clinging to her pelt as she slithered through the shadows. Her burning ember eyes glared with a trembling sort of ferocity, the unknown power surging from within her causing her pelt to shudder. She was a creature, a monster, of no true purpose or aspirations, but merely survived and excelled in life by relishing in the satisfaction of current desires and impulses. Simple urges that would send her forth, molding each of her days as a new one that could not, and would not ever, be replicated in its exactness ever again. A hefty, gurgling exhale that rumbled through her throat as the she-beast began to wade out of the waters, her paws gripping and thrusting against the shifting mud beneath her. This land that she creeped up upon, the trees and the shrubs and the mere terrain, simply reeked of a desperate, wannabe dominant force. A cluster of mindfucked morons, clinging to the crumbling idea that another, single idiot could somehow secure them a place in life so that they wouldn't have to secure anything for themselves.

A horrible scowl spread on her maw, fangs poking out like snaggleteeth from her blackened gums, eyes narrowing into slivers as they stared across to the boulders and rock formations ahead of her. She could scent them - the inadequate, and she could only hope that they'd find themselves moronic enough to cross her. There was a coarse rhythm in her step, her hefty form slithering up the greenery, thick paws leaving heavy imprints behind her, as if letting any weary wanderers to know she had been there - come find her for a fight.

Noire didn't always go looking for a fight, but she had never turned one down that stumbled upon her.

Snorting in displeasure of her surroundings, the brutish female hoisted herself up the rocks aggressively, a few huffs and puffs sounding with each leap, her bushy tail swishing behind her. Large ears would swivel after each bound, as if waiting for the inevitable encounter. A low rumbling in her throat, a wrinkle itching on her maw, and she'd shake her pelt curtly, turning around as she stood atop one of the higher boulders. Moss and vines creeped over the steady thrones, as if trying to reclaim what had been their conqueror in previous days. But as the overcast in the skies offered no sun, no redemption, they began to slowly shrivel. A soft couple of rain drops, the signs of an oncoming rainstorm, and Noire would sit - never calm, never leisured.

Simply stoic.

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