Kold's house was nestled a good distance from any trees, though close to the plaza. It was far enough for no one to really hear her tossing and turning, breaking a pot from her bedside table. Her forepaws scratched across her face, dark blood welling in the small wounds. Her sleep was plagued with terrors, visages of her mother and brother, her own body and Boy. Images of what she could do, the terrors she could bring, all because of who she was. Who's daughter she was. The blood that ran in her veins.

Fire licked at her bedsheets, formed by her own paw, and quickly started to catch onto any fabric and wood it could find. The rose she had kept, dry and withered, was one of the first to go. The wooden supports above creaked and groaned, waking the woman up. Then the smoke had filled the room. With a startled and slightly strangled yell, she fell onto the floor, limbs refusing to work for a second. Her bedsheet followed, burning parts of her wings before she could wrestle it off of her.

The fire had grown quickly, partly influenced by her own emotions, and as she stumbled out of the bedroom, it's brilliant heat had lit up most of the wooden supports around her. Boy's room had already been engulfed in flames, oddly enough, and she turned for the door, grabbing the dragon bone dagger Bai Jing Ai had given her. She was almost there, almost out, when her manipulation had given life to an apparition. Canid in form, the fire blocked her path.

She was frozen in place, staring at this ghostly visage of family, before she felt her lungs burn from smoke. And she screamed, ruining her vocal chords, and ran through the fire. Her burned paw pads stung on the sandstone porch and her partially burnt wings stung from the sand as she collapsed upon the earth, loosening her grip on the dagger. It skittered from her, and she found herself staring at it.

Rousing herself to look at the burning house, she couldn't find it in her to scream. To yell out for help, for someone to get water. She could only watch as everything that house stood for started to burn away. It was, morbidly, a beautiful scene.

Kold Darcia Di Angelo - Pitt - Marauder

smoke.

a smell he knew far to well from his fathers old wars. a smell that brought back a sense of dread and anger. anger stemming from fear he felt as a cub watching many prisoners burn. his war hungry father never deserved his mother. she was peaceful and kind. she was a blessing to that pride and his father never should have been given her.

she loved him, and night never understood why. what she had seen in that killer. yet, he was a monster like his father in his own right. he sucked the blood from others that had families. drained them all dry and never cared that someone would look for them. what was that old saying again?

'inside each of us is a monster; inside each of us is a saint. the real question is which one we nurture the most, which one will smite the other.'

the words were true despite not recalling where he heard them said. the lion left his own home and followed the faint flickering light and the smell. stopping when he spotted the house and realized who it belonged to. kold! he bellowed as he moved towards the inferno. wondering if she was inside still. if she was alive.

had someone tried to kill her?

had they succeeded?

speech