Broad paws lifted and fell repeatedly, effortlessly as the dark figure trod a steady path towards, what his nose was telling him was a large body of water, fresh water at that. A long ways back he assaulted the lines of marked territory, crossing into the lands of a female Alpha without consent. Sure his mind was lingering on his recent activities, like now, but he had stopped and sniffed around the borders for quite some time gathering information through scent. With my name comes a past. And with this past comes certain consequences I’d rather keep left in the archives of my story. The phrase of his new found, so-called alliance kept repeating itself in his head. Atreyu was rather curious as to what part of Zendelrin’s history did he want kept a secret? With my name comes a past… With every name there was past, but only those wolves’ whose actions may be frowned upon by a decent society would say such things. Although, Zendelrin was not the type of character who Atreyu pictured thriving in a well behaved pack atmosphere. But that didn’t explain why he wanted to keep his true calling from those he pledged alliance too; Atreyu had never heard of him or his story. …with this past comes certain consequences. His mind ran wild with hypotheses of his comrade’s previous encounters, most of which were based off of happenings in his own life.
“Remember that young femme who was searching for a lover and a new life…?” the voice whispered heavily. His brain began to pull photo memoirs that had been tucked away and nearly forgotten of that day. “We were still young then… So was she… Cute too. Remember now?” a voice cooed. The memory came rushing back to him as if it were yesterday, a type of recording played in his mind and a voice narrated the scene as Atreyu continued to walk through a forest of trees in autumn bloom.
“She had just left her parents territory, off to make a name for herself, join a pack and maybe one day fallow in her mother’s paw steps and become Alpha of her own pack one day. This was shortly after we left your brother and that bitch, still blood thirsty for more… You played the nice wolf routine well and still being young and naive she was eager to join you in your search for ‘a new life’ as well. We walked for many miles, further into the depths of unknown territory of nomad lands. The look on her face will forever be priceless as you turned and said, “You shouldn’t have left your family… Didn’t they teach you to never trust a stranger?” Both Atreyu and the voice chuckled, but only Tre’s was audible to the rest of the world. “That heart stopping, gasping for breath type of fear is what drives you Atreyu. Her cries were wondrous music to our ears…”
Emerald eyes had been watching, but weren’t really seeing where he was going or what he was passing until he encountered an odd obstacle obstructing his path. Initially he just loped over the limb of a tree as the voice continued its proud tale, “By the following morning, the only trace of our encounter was a mangled corpse of a wolf with many hopes and dreams for her future…” He continued walking on without a second thought until he came across another branch crossing his path. He halted and began to look around at his surroundings, now somewhat confused as to what he had come across. Turning his attention to the left of him, eyes followed a branch that was low to the ground; barely inches away from coming into contact with the fallen leaves of nearby trees, but stretching out another fifty paces or so, leafed fingers stretching crookedly outwards and up near the end of the branch. A single brow raised curiously, eyes tracing the branch back towards the center, where he stood, and then off to the right, climbing up to where a large branch connected to a massive tree trunk.
Eyes feasted on the grand spectacle of the Angel Oak tree that had rooted itself hundreds of years ago in his path. Paws carried him up to and around the base of the tree that must have measured nearly thirty paces as his head craned allowing his eyes to gaze at the broad branches covered with vinery vegetation. Atreyu was captivated by the sheer size of the ominous tree; it wasn’t the tallest he had ever come across but this one was by far the most unique form of timber he had bore witness to. He circled the oak tree once more, spiraling away from the base and heading off to investigate the low branches that made the tree look like a giant melting candle. He dipped his head to avoid a losing battle against a knotted arm that created a low archway as it gravitated towards the ground. The branch eventually fell to the earth, sinking beneath the ground and rising above the dirt and fallen leaves a couple feet away like a sea serpent wading across the waters. He continued his investigation of the old Angel for nearly a half hour more, captivated by how it managed to be described by adjectives not even remotely related; the tree was daunting and yet graceful, wicked and yet wise…
Continuing on his way, leaving the wonders behind for another day, Atreyu came across his destination, a large pool of cool water to refresh his pallet, his coat, his mind and just possibly his soul. His appearance caused a large flock of birds that had found rest on the sandy terrain took flight, the sound of nearly a hundred wings flapping and beating against the crisp autumn morning air disrupting the calm silence that had been laid over the pond like a thick blanket. He moved forward, dark orbs intent on watching the birds stain the open blue sky like a cloud of smoke rising above and floating on the wind as they twisted around, sunk low and flew higher, splitting apart to several smaller fleets and then each finding safety in the tall canopy of trees that bordered the pool’s shore. Tired paws sunk into the muddy shore and waded in up to his knees. He bowed his head to the clear film and salmon-hued appendage lapped at the fresh water, eyes scanning the colors of the season across the water, lobes alert to the noises of the dawn.
Lifting his head his eyes drifted towards the water in front of him, ripples disfiguring his reflection for a short period of time and when the waters calmed he stared intently at the beast starring back… He remained stoic for several minutes and then waded further into the pond. His coat was matted with his blood and that of others, the young couples, Rapture, even his comrade Zen… He padded in a horse shoe figure, out towards the center of the pool, pondered about not returning, thought again, and returned to the shore. He shook vigorously several times, even before he was completely out, liquid crystals flying from his coat sprinkling the shore, bubbling together sand grains. He found a type of tranquility in his solitude, in resting out in the open, in the irritated clamor of bird in the tree tops all while witnessing the sun rise above the horizon and sparkle off of the pond.
***** Words: 1216 Notes: The great Angel Oak Tree, Clicketh. I had never seen one until my niece pointed one out at a house on our way to daycare and she said, "Look at that creepy tree." It was so cute. -heh- Also, since I'll be gone for the next... two weeks, I won't be able to reply until I get back... Sorreh...
Shadows twisted and contorted, dancing upon the surfaces of every object that dared to call itself part of the scenery. They shrunk and grew, morphed or disappeared all together with every passing step. They were taunting the light that dared to vanquish them; they were taunting the light that gave them life. Every stride forwards brought a new image. The light would catch in a new way, marring the surface of a tree or plant. One set of shadows would vanish, replaced by another that coiled around ground. The cycle was rapid, full of change. Each step meant the passing of one obstacle despite the appearance of another one. The female found it... comforting. If everything behaved like shadows then maybe she would find some peace.
Ever since she'd dared to limp her way out of Exodus's lands, the hallucinations had started again. Though her pace was slow, timid, Denali's heart pounded within her chest. She was terrified of all she saw around her, desperately hoping relocation would make it all vanish. Her reality had been altered, and unlike the vanishing shadows it would not distort itself to the point of again appearing somewhat normal. She was trapped with no hope of escape, fear gripping at her body and driving her further, deeper into madness.
Cream paws carried the fae through an endless bone-yard, the lighting dark and dreary. Foliage decayed around her, rotting, dying... And it was not the decay of winter's icy hand that inched ever so closer to the earth's surface. This destruction was different. This destruction was the manufactured kind. Vines twisted their way through numerous corpses, their bodies reduced to bone. Every crack that sounded from beneath her body caused an involuntary jerk. Was it a leaf she had just stepped on? Or, had the brittle limb of an ancient one just been snapped in two? The songs of nature were eerie melodies daring to tell her a story. Her panting was unconscious, uncontrollable. Her body feeling icy cold despite thick fur and the fever she'd begun to run. Everywhere she looked told a story of death. Ears backed and tail between her legs, the snow hued wolf pressed on, a nagging voice in the back of her mind insisting she was on the path leading to her own funeral.
Denali was terrified. Yet, she was well aware that she'd brought this all upon herself. She was safe, comfortable within Salen's grounds. She had been... happy. Happiness was not an option for the Tundra femme, however, and like always she had once again broke loose. She ran from the things that brought her the most joy; ran from the place she best belonged. Like always, she expected to bear her self inflicted punishment with a brave face, was determined to carry her own cross. This was the first time her mind had been so harsh on her though. This was the first time running seemed to have been the wrong choice. This was the first time she wasn't sure she could carry her cross on her own. This was the first time reality had altered so drastically that the new images refused to release their hold upon her mind. Denali was stuck in Death's realm, every step further sealing her fate. There was no freedom here; only destruction, her destruction.
Clouded eyes did not pick up on familiar landmarks. Her nose was too clogged with the scent of decay to pick up on the subtle markers. Nothing looked, smelled, or sounded as it once had. A whimper caught on the wind as she pushed forwards. Her body crossed the borderline, her mind too far gone to realize her mistakes. Again she was in Aldgar lands. This time her mind was too far gone to notice.
Tears stung in her eyes as she tried to keep her breathing steady, even, calm. She drew closer to the bubbling black ink and its bony fingered guardian. In panic her body dodged weaving tendrils as they dared to claw their way into the earth. They were long, snake like hands of bone try to catch her, crush her, kill her. But she would not let them! Denali wanted her life, as shattered as it may have been. She would not die here, in this fabricated world of evil. She could not lose so easily the fight that lasted her entire life all just because a new symptom dared to suffocate her.
A startled cry came from her maw as suddenly she found herself upon the ground. The bones had caught her, pinned her down. In truth she'd trip over the Angel Oak's branches. She did not know this though, body thrashing and twisting as she tried to escape the clutches of death. She would have continued in this fashion for many long hours had her amber gaze not suddenly fallen upon him. The largest shadow of them all emerged from the inky waters of the lake, and suddenly reality clicked back into place.
The hallucination dissipated like fog struck by sunlight. Bones became branches, leaves, twigs. The lands were yellow-green, filled with autumn's dying grasses and numerous winter pines. And the hands that held her were no longer all over her, smothering her body. She lay atop the hands, her movements slow as she picked herself up off the gnarled bark. All the while her eyes did not move from the figure of the black demon that stood before her. The fear still lingered, though this time it was different. This fear was mixed with hatred and wonder, curiosity and relief. What stood before her was a dark knight, someone of whom she didn't know what to think.
Regaining her composure, Denali cautiously found her footing. She stood on three legs, pain throbbing in the old injury. One ear flopped against her skull, destined to never stand tall. The other was pulled back in submission, fear, worry. Eyes were wide as she stared in wonder, her brain refusing to function. The land again looked normal, familiar. It wasn't enough though. The hallucination was gone, but in its wake lay a more frightening force. Her voice was a chocked whisper as she dared to speak, thick with emotions that were not yet ready to be released. "You." And then her body gave out, plummeting to the soft earth out of sheer exhaustion. She continued to stare, however, no longer sure what to think. No longer sure what to do. No longer sure what to expect.
Last Edit: Nov 13, 2009 17:54:23 GMT -5 by Deleted
The winds had picked up and as a chilled gale swept through the naked late autumn forest several dead leaves that had fallen to the floor caught the breeze and lifted; floating through the air, they tumbled and turned over one another in a mass. Through the forest they drove until they reached the sandy shores of Nyspoli where they lost momentum, most simply falling although a few happened to land on the shallow waters. Tagging along with the cluster of leaves was a vaguely familiar scent to Atreyu.
He had been resting awake with his head in his paws; the biting chill of the winds on his damp coat wasn’t much for comfort but he figured he would stick it out until the sun raised high enough to warm his core and dry out his hide. Of course, that was until he caught on to the presence of a stranger nearby. A low murmur of a growl reverberated from deep within the caverns of his chest and boiled over with irateness and warning figuring it was the Knaves on the hunt after him. In one liquid motion he leapt to his paws and spun around facing the forest. He went into a high sensory mode, leathery nostrils flaring and ears perked forward intently listening to the noises, deciphering which ones where out of the norm. Emerald pools narrowed scanning the vicinity, stopping as they spotted a low lying figure a short distance away.
Thinking back he tried to recall a cream colored wolf in Ardemu’s gang – there had been that ogre of a wolf, but he was darker, and larger than the wolf that was spying on him now. This could be a fresh member of Ardemu’s; one he sent after Atreyu to either capture him as a slave or to kill him. “Ha! That will be the day,” chimed a voice. Well wouldn’t Sir Ardemu be pleased to come across his scout’s decaying carcass… Tre pressed on, if this spy thought he was smart he would turn tail and run now. He lowered his head and tail but still claimed an aura of dominance. Slowly loping forward he kept his eyes on the cream figure, the birds fluttering about the trees quieted their chirps as he enetered their domain.
As he neared the wolf he was taken aback by the lack of movement, as if the wolf was paralyzed. An odd choice for ‘demu, thought he preferred fighters… He raised his head and stared down at the wolf, something about -- her catching his attention; this wasn’t one of Ardemu’s cronies. He walked forward, nose investigating her lingering smell. He gazed at her for a while longer, not being able to place where the two of them had come across one another before when it struck him. He noticed one of the femmes ears were disfigured, floppy. He locked eyes with her, a coy, smug grin creeping across his mug, his eyes drifted, paying a glance to their surroundings before moving closer. “Get up.” His tone was cold and hardened, but he was more of a to-the-point type anyway.
Last Edit: Nov 22, 2009 19:47:06 GMT -5 by Deleted
Nature's music seemed to fall silent as the beast of a brute approached her, not that Denali was able to take much notice. Her ears had long ago tuned out the paltry sounds, senses trained on the figure that stood before her and him alone. Trapped by fear and awe, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. Such a feeling was just as disorienting as the dizzying effects of some of her stronger emotions. It was as if she and Atreyu were the only two creatures in existence right now. They were all that mattered. And, even if she wanted to change such a horrid truth, she could not. The Tundra femme was paralyzed, too weak to do much more than blink.
As he towered over her, analyzing her hunched form, the fae desperately to retreat within herself. At that moment it would have been nice to have the adaptive abilities of a turtle, able to hid within the sanctity of a personal shell, blending in with rocks and moss in order to escape the spine chilling eyes within a living nightmare. Denali did not have such capabilities though. All she could do was tremble as her body ran on autopilot. In some ways, it was a miracle she had not passed out. After everything that had happened, she felt exhausted. Her entire being ached, no muscle left untainted by the sting of life. Her mind was swimming, trying not to drown in the million thoughts that caused a dull, throbbing headache. Breaths came in shallow gasps, and she did not have the energy to force herself up unto her paws. She wasn't even sure she wanted to stand.
But then the command came, and suddenly she was filled with the desire to move. He'd ordered her up, and she would comply. Denali had always valued her life, even the high price she payed where social interaction was concerned. So long as she obeyed, maybe she would be able to walk away from all this. Maybe she would retain her life while in the position that Mike had lost his own.
Her mind screamed the command to her muscles, echoing throughout her nervous system. 'Stand up!' she urged desperately, trying to claw her way to her paws. Her body would not listen, however, could not listen no matter how much it wanted to. She was too frail, too weak given the state she'd stumbled into Aldgar. What she needed was rest and recovery. Her legs would not hold beneath her, especially when one still stung with the dull reminder of her last encounter with the black male before her. If he wanted her up, he'd have to drag her up by the scruff of her neck. Unfortunately, chances were she'd only collapse again, even her own weight too much to presently bear.
For the briefest of moments she again caught his eyes. Then her gazed dropped completely in defeat. There was nothing she could do. Denali felt completely and utterly helpless. She would face more torment in these lands than she had in her entire lifetime. Of course, she wouldn't be suffering from such a cruel fate had her early years not crippled her so badly. Her mind had been taken from her, almost completely, and now she could not even control her own body. Again she was at the mercy of the murderer of her friend, though this time she was not so sure he'd be saving her.
Has your soul sipped Of the sweetness of all sweets?
Atreyu reclined to his haunches as the crème female flinched to his command, her body’s muscles visibly contracting with dread. The welcomed sight sent a shiver down his spine and his ears laced back against his skull momentarily. He lightly chuckled as he watched her feebly claw the yellow leaves beneath them eventually reaching towards the moist dirt and loose roots of grasses that shortly sprouted months ago, pulling the debris towards her while failing at raising herself from the earth as if gravity’s pull was too strong. In a dead stare his mind fell back into the recesses of his mind to reluctantly find a memory from a time long ago; a memory that he had, until now, been successful in repressing.
A bruised and bloodied ebony form flew through the air, abruptly striking a tree and falling limp to the cold, damp and unforgiving forest floor. The form lay lifeless for a long while, it was a pup riding along the borderline of conscientiousness and downright fear of moving, fear of breathing. Maybe if he just stayed there his attacker would leave him be; feel accomplished of his deed and walk away until another day. The pup kept his eyes closed as the shadows of the forest grew larger and darker with night approaching quickly. He waited with abated breath, wishing, hoping the older male would leave, disappear into the night; go just as fast as he had came. A pain began to strike at him from within, lungs burning, aching for fresh air, but as he drew in the crisp night his rib cage expanded and a groan escaped him. He felt more than defeated as the paw steps he was waiting for were finally heard, except not in the direction he wanted. Silently counting, one…two…three… They advanced painfully slow until they stopped, “Get up!” his father barked.
Atreyu watched the entire scene play out in front of him from a third-wolf perspective, rather than in the place of himself. His mind had been so deeply engrossed by the day dream he had lost the sense of his physical presence and at some point he had risen to his paws. The deep rooted anger, frustration and pain from his past boiled over to the present and a snarl contorted his features. His gaze never left Denali. “Strike! Strike her… She’s pathetic!” Having no other sense of being he did as instructed. Muscles coiled and released in a short lunge, agape jaw briefly contacting the femmes shoulder. Quickly withdrawing from her, liquid movement carried him behind her.
He paused when he reached a blind spot directly behind her, silently cursing the war waging within him, despising losing control of himself to the voices. He shook out his pelt in a desperate attempt at freeing his mind. Slowly turning back to her under the realization that the anger hadn’t subsided he decided to just roll with it, listen to what they told him, even if it meant destroying her life…
Has it well supped But yet hungers and sweats? [/blockquote][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
Quotes from the poem Has Your Soul Sipped? by Wilfred Owen.
Pain. Fangs in her shoulder. Blood matting ivory fur. It lasted only seconds but felt like antagonizing hours. Her body was pinned down, the earth cold and dead beneath her. There was no escape. They had her trapped; they would not let her go. Constantly pricking at her. Drawing her blood. Taking her mind. Disposing of her when they were finished. Tossing her aside as if she were insignificant, as if she didn't have a soul.
Denali was unable to make a sound as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Pain shot up her shoulder and ricocheted through her veins, culminating in her mind. Her head throbbed in time with her heart, the headache unbearable. Though it had only been a glancing blow, it was enough to force her body to curl into itself and roll her on her side. Her head hit the ground with a light thud, feeling too heavy to be raised up. Silent, broken, she lay.
She could feel his eyes on her despite not being able to see him. Oddly, she didn't actually seem to care. She'd walked through hell to get here. Clearly it wasn't ending any time soon. The Tundra femme had become resigned. She wouldn't fight; didn't have the energy to. What was the point? The nightmare would end eventually. If she were lucky, it would pass in a few minutes. More likely, the torment would be lasting several hours like the hallucination had. Denali wasn't even sure the hallucination had stopped. Sure, the land looked normal again. The fear and pain were still in excess, however, drowning her in ways only a shattered mind could.
In reality, this nightmare she called life would last more than minutes, or even hours. It would last days, weeks, months, years. It had started the moment she'd been captured all those years ago. The humans had taken her, broken her. Then they'd released her and left her to pick up the pieces of her own life alone. Sure, there would be an occasional spike of happiness that would glue a piece or two back together. Something worse always happened to shatter her even more though. No matter how gradual the incline, Denali was forever destined to walk a downhill slope. She'd accepted her fate, signed her name in blood. Now all she could do was wait for these new fractures to finally splinter off. Maybe then she could try again. Or, maybe paranoia would break her more, leaving her a cracked porcelain doll instead of just the hollow shell.
Last Edit: Dec 12, 2009 17:57:19 GMT -5 by Deleted
The warm sun that had graced the lands earlier was now shrouded behind a dreary mask of clouds. Flurries of snowflakes were falling from the grey sky and a bitter cold wind whispered through the barren forest surrounding the pond. White crystals landed on his onyx coat, at first dampening the top layer as his body’s heat melted the snow, but now, as the two stayed silent for the better portion of an hour in the day, the frozen crystals started creating another layer over his back. The voices in his head raged on, the minutes passing like hours. The wolves stayed perfectly still; two statues frozen in time as their minds whirled crazily until the black brute came alive again drawing in a long and deep breath. The temperatures had plunged and the oxygen he inhaled threatened to freeze his lungs and windpipe just as hot blood flooded his veins and warmed his breath that when exhaled vaporized in an opaque cloud, lifting like smoke from a dragon’s mouth and dissipating in the wind.
He had been debating with his consciences on how he should handle the situation, one voice said murder, another pleaded to torture her; both were great ideas in Atreyu’s book. Now you see, when it comes to making daily life decisions, most living beings with a conscience have a good side, and a bad side. The divine white Angel complete with a set of wings and halo and the fiery Devil mischievously flicking their tail; the two imaginary figures argue with one another as they counsel as to what should be done. The Angel bribes with a pass to the golden gate of Heaven if you’ve done right by their word while the Devil will always say being bad is much more fun.
Atreyu’s soul, if he ever really had one, had been won over by the Devil years ago, his contract signed in blood. There was no good side – bad side with Tre, he was just all bad. Not once could he recall an Angel perched on his shoulder. In waiting he recalled his and the floppy-eared femme’s first encounter, her presence evidence that he had inadvertently saved her life from the wrath of that- … Rapture. It hadn’t been about saving her; it was about ridding the world of a waste of space…right? After an eternity of silence the black demon made a move. The ground was covered with a thick layer of snow that crinkled and compacted as his paws drifted towards her. They had only been a few steps away from one another to begin with so the distance gap was closed quickly as he hovered over her to the side, his eyes intent on every contraction of her muscles; she may be in a healthier state of mind than before and quicker to lash out at him if she had the nerve, after all, she was in a compromising position. He leaned his head closer to hers and whispered in her lame lobe, “Do you remember me?” His vocals were rough and his tone hardened.
He let the question set in and slip away into silence again as he remained right by her side for a minute longer. A prolonged exhale escaped his blackened lips, warmth breath lingering and enveloping her sensitive nape. He chuckled softly as he trod forward, careful to take a step out to the side in case she decided to snap at him. Dark emerald eyes did a once over of their surrounding, but he was more dependent on his nose and ears to detect any third party that might happen upon the duo; the heavy snowfall was making for low visibility and the skies were only becoming darker as night quickly approached.
Atreyu positioned himself directly in front of Denali, standing for a minute, calmly shaking out his pelt. As he reclined to his haunches though, a lonely call from another rogue wolf on pack territory echoed through the cold forest. Tre’s ears pinned back in the direction the howl had come from. Great… Now the whole pack will be making their way over here to investigate this new broad. ”Don’t worry my boy, we know just what to do with wolves who try to be heroes.” True. His cold stare never left the female before him and his demeanor made it clear that he didn’t care about the other wolves in the area. “Don’t try anything foolish…” a clear reminder that her life was in his paws and he controlled how much longer she would draw breath, and that if she were to attempt a cry for help, it would all end much sooner than planned.
Last Edit: Jan 16, 2010 16:58:01 GMT -5 by Deleted
Soft, white powder fluttered about on bone chilling wind, a murderer masqued in an innocent facade. There was something so sweet, pure, delicate about snow. It was... enchanting. And yet, the flakes that danced and twirled about the pair were as cruel and twisted as the inner workings of their minds. They blurred visions, playing tricks on the eyes until nothing seemed real anymore. They stripped the body of all levels of comfort, leaving it frail and broken to suffer a fate worse than death. They made death an art form, burying the living in a blinding canvas insistent on being admired.
One stood strong, ready to engage in the dance of death. His ebony pelt was in stark contrast with the snowy white, but his intentions were the same. Like the snow, Atreyu delivered death in a cold, heartless manner. This was unlike his ivory coated companion for the evening, who lived only to ensure she saw another day. Lying limp against the ground, she painted it in white. Nothing was ever as she saw, the world ever changing. One minute she was there, the next long gone and forgotten, melted into a distant memory not meant to be remembered.
Denali lay motionless aside from the involuntary shivers that dared to try and keep her warm. The heavy snow was coating her over, burying her as if she were no different from an insignificant piece of scenery in hibernation till warmer months. Lids were heavy as they blocked out the dizzying illusions before her. The fae had lost all sense of reality. She could no longer tell what was real and what was simply imaginary. Did the black beast really exist? Were the distortions of the shimmering white caused by inclement weather or were they a product of her own fragile mind? Everything around her seemed to point only towards death. Was this land to be her grave? Better yet, was she already dead? Maybe she herself was the walking corpse, the twisted lands she saw no different from what anyone else would view.
Only when she felt warm breath against her limp appendage did she grasp for any sense of normalcy. His voice constricted around her being as poison did the heart. When had this demon grown so close? The femme had missed his approach, eyes only gliding open to watch as he retreated. A mournful howl broke through the deafening silence mere moments later, and suddenly her world was exploding with sound. Atreyu's voice seemed to echo around her, his words ringing in her ears. Every snowflake thundered that fell closely to her head. Yelping, panicking, Denali scrambled to her feet as best she could in the deepening snow. Her own heat kept her feverish, her stomach in knots as fear continued to eat away at her soul. What was she supposed to do in such a hopeless situation? She saw no way out of this. In fact, no matter where she looked all she could see was death. The imagery consumed her. She was no longer living a life. Denali was living her own death, condemned to it for eternity or as long as her body dared to live.
Standing on shaky legs, the creme femme stared blindly at the shadow that dared to haunt her. He'd asked her a question, but what to say? Should she lie? Or would that only seal her fate faster? Would telling the truth have the harsher results? Why should she even care? She was dead no matter what, empty, hollow, the shell of someone who could have once been great. What did it matter what she did anymore? “Don’t try anything foolish…” Hah! The warning dared defy her life. No matter what she did, Denali had only foolish actions. She lived in fear, a pathetic coward who wouldn't dream of letting others help her.
If this beast thought he held some sort of power over her, he was sorely mistaken. There was no one there for him to command. What stood in place of the ivory being was a rotting corpse, damned long before he'd ever tried to save her. He had as much control over her life as she did: absolutely none. Whatever happened to her, them, was left to some higher fate. If Atreyu wanted to dance with death, so be it. The lady would entreat him to a tango. She'd drown his soul in the horrors she called home, a slave to her own actions as her mind ran on autopilot.
Boldly the Tundra took a step forward, feeling as if she were walking on air. Her body trembled, though whether from fear, the cold, or anticipation it was unknown. Denali was walking a fine line between life and death. Nothing made sense anymore. She felt invincible and yet so fragile all at once. She was lost and found and broken and whole, unclear on the boundaries of right and wrong. Was she walking to her death or guiding Atreyu to his? Was there any chance at all she'd survive whatever was about to happen? Was there anything left to her original self to survive?
Her eyes were lifeless as she stared the black brute down, so detached from this world, this life, that it was astounding how intimately acquainted with the memories of the one known as Denali she was. "Do I remember you?" she questioned innocently, voice like poison as she slowly blinked and tilted her head to one side. A bitter smile curved its way up her dark lips as she released a barking laugh. "How could I possibly forget?" The words were practically spat as she surrendered herself completely to the complex workings of her mind. "You're my dark knight. You are the guardian that delivered me from the ire of that fiend. You are the bastard that murdered my friend in cold blood. I owe everything and nothing to you all at once. And yet..." She paused, as if collecting her thoughts. Then, "I have nothing left to give, no matter how much I don't want to."
'Give in. Give in. Give in. Give in. You play the game, you'll never win.'
