[div style="background-color: #210808; color: #9B5151; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 340px; padding: 10px;"]It was time, Deldrach decided.

She gathered the jungle juice, padding towards Haven Island. What really was this about, anyways? The jaglion's mismatched eyes flickered to the bottle she carried, and a snort rid from her maw. This would be easy. She's drank worse, Deldrach thought as she stepped onto the Island. She padded through the secluded island, wary of how quiet it became without the crew around her. She shook it off as she settled down in a clearing, waiting for dusk. It didn't take long, as she popped open the concoction. She took a wiff, before tilting her head back and downing all of it.

There was no.. immediate taste. But she frowned as she finally tasted a tiny bit, before setting the jug down. She sighed as she pulled her sheath off, leaving her sabre settle near down her as she lay down. Her eyes stared forward, waiting for something to happen as the sun finally disappeared, the last rays barely kissing the ground before it was gone completely. And suddenly, vertigo over came her, a scent long forgotten- long hated, and still is to this day- washed over her. A snarl slid forth from the Jaglion's maw as she stood, whipping about to stare at him.

He smirked at her. Two plain, brown eyes stared back at royalty as she stood there, whipping her tail back and forth. The lion standing before her was built with muscle, his claws longer than hers but he was always slower then she could have imagined. "You're supposed to be dead." She replied, her eyes narrowed, her tone still steady. The smirk grew on his lips. "Dead, dear Deldrach Akaodon?" She grit her teeth. He leapt at her, and Deldrach scrambled to her left. "Oh, I'm not dead, and you know it." He chuckled.

Her eyes widened. No, that couldn't be true. She sank her fangs into his neck herself, as he stood there, tearing her cub open. "Shut up. I'll have you silenced." The jaglion snarled back in response. "You're not real. This is because of this stupid.. hallucinogen that they gave me-" She didn't have time to finished before she was bowled over, and pinned. Deldrach's hind paws pummeled upwards, her claws digging into his stomach as she rolled him over. She turned, grasping her sabre and dashing for the water.

"THE DAY YOU DIE, DELDRACH-" He heard his voice chase after her, both of their paws drumming on a stretch of beach now. "IT WILL BE AT MY CLAWS!" Deldrach suddenly whipped about, and the sight behind her was what haunted her for eons. A pure white lion cub stood in front of her, and Deldrach stopped and stared. She worked her mouth, trying to say anything- something, but it didn't come from her, no matter how hard she tried. "You didn't even bury me, did you?" Deldrach slowly sat down. The mangled, white furred cub sat too.

"No, I didn't Jumba." She murmured. "And I'm sorry." Jumba was the nickname Deldrach used to call her cub, and she knew it well. Jumba. Short for Jumbalie. She was a young cub- Deldrach ached to see her again, but never did she think she would see it like this. Deldrach shook, her sabre at her paws and her cub watching the queen crack and break. She didn't cry- she had no tears to spare over this anymore.

She remained there until sunrise. It didn't appear like she slept, but Deldrach felt refreshed, telling her she had somehow slept there on the beach. Slowly, achingly, Deldrach pushed to her paws. She wandered out towards the main island, her sabre sheath held in her jaws, the jug forgotten back in that clearing. Did she learn anything she wanted to? No. She remembered Jumba too well now, and He.. was still plaguing the back of her mind.

Deldrach closed her eyes, her head tilted down as she walked.

#psychosocial.

[div style="background-color: #210808; color: #9B5151; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 340px; padding: 10px;"]Her eyes opened, lifting at the sight of Caeser. She said nothing as he spoke, holding her sheath in her maw as she stood straight, ears perking up and her eyes narrowing. Staring at her directly was hard- the anger, the utter distaste for the thing standing in front of her, all stemming from His fault, and the fact his tone was playing with her. "Fair enough. How was yours, when you decided to become a part of the crew?" Deldrach suddenly said, her maw spreading with a cruel grin. She felt no problem with him asking, honestly. But his tone.. it distracted her, to say the least.

She looked to Rochelle. A sigh escaped the maw of Deldrach, and what she had given to Caeser in the way of mouth, was completely absent for Rochelle. ".. I don't think I need anything. You wouldn't happen to have any alcohol in this place, would you?" Deldrach muttered. She had a sip of it, long long ago, and it had helped- at the time. She pulled on her sheath, the sabre flashing in the rising sun. She looked to Rochelle, nodding gently- Thanks. I mean it.

#psychosocial.