Vathmos' home was one the plain-looking homes on the outskirts of town. She had never done any decoration to the outside, she didn't feel the need to do so when she lived in Tanglewood. Her house wasn't repaired like some of the other homes were, and Vathmos questioned why she lived in there so many months ago. Vathmos' paws creaked on the porch as ancient, untreated wood leaned under her weight. Maybe she should move houses. Maybe one a little closer to the center, or to Aurum's. She turned, pointing her head in the direction of Mrish's home, a few houses down. She should probably stay in this area though, wouldn't want to leave the little one alone. Vathmos turned back around, pulling on the rope to that turned the latch to let the hyena into her home.
It was dark and dusty- her nose crinkled at the smell of rat. Black eyes wandered about her home, her lips pulling up in disgust. Was it this bad when she left it? No, not as bad. Some pests must have gotten in here.
Vathmos' home was a small, ranch-style home. Most of the rooms were empty and devoid of life. Vathmos didn't live in Tanglewood long enough to make her house into a home. It had a small living room with old, patchy, rotting carpet. It had a singular couch, a club chair, and a empty, rotting entertainment center. She never did anything with this room- its vacancy made her feel lonely. The chairs were meant to accommodate more than one, and the prospect of being with others made Vathmos aware of her lack of friends. She glanced up at the hole in the roof, providing the only light in the house besides the broken windows. The entire area of the floor under it was black with rot and mold.
Vathmos stared at the couch for a moment. She couldn't think of most in Tanglewood as a friend. They were assets. They let her live here and let her participate in things. Tanglewood was a tool critical to her own survival. Tanglewood wasn't her family. No one was. Vathmos' priority in life was to survive, she needed to use anything and anyone to further that priority.
What Vathmos didn't realize was, if she could feel secure enough to stop focusing on her basic needs, she could work on building other things. She could try to be more active and helpful, she could get a better grasp of everyone, she could finally kill Snarl, she could do so much more.
At least she had Aurum, and maybe Mrish. How was the little Boarboya anyways? She should feed her later. Was Aurum even her friend, or was she just using him too? What did she gain from her friendship with Aurum? He didn't feed her, and he didn't protect her, so why were they friends?
Vathmos lifted her head, glancing at the empty, tiled room where she used to store her meals. She noted the trail of darkened, aged blood that led from the door, through the living room, and into the kitchen. The hyena moved, poking her head inside to see the skeletal remains of a deer she didn't finish before she left. Her nose crinkled again. More rat smell. Where were the little bastards? Their shit was everywhere.
She turned around, padding down the hallway to her room, and going inside. It was quiet and dusty, Vathmos noticed the mold on the carpet from rain getting in through the broken window. She moved to the corner, where her bedding once was. When she lived here, Vathmos had slept on a pile of skins of her kills. In her absence, the pile had been ripped apart by vermin and holes eaten through it. She cringed. She would have to make a new one. Vathmos moved to the medium sized box next to it- one of the few things Vathmos considered she actually owned- and opened it with her teeth. She tipped the box over with her nose to spill its contents, the skull making a clacking sound as it rolled over the wood and onto the carpet. Vathmos flipped over the large skull with her nose, her shrill chortle leaking out of her throat, tail wagging as she sat to inspect the skull. It was her mask. Something that proved she was once a member of Tanglewood. The mask was made from the top half of a lion skull, and Vathmos had gotten help to pad the inside and adjust it to her own face, so that the lion's massive fangs could be used in conjunction with her own teeth. It was painted with black and red markings, a symbol in the shape of teeth across the forehead of the skull. Vathmos considered it to be her own symbol, but perhaps she would add something to it later. She put the skull back in the box, grabbing it with her teeth and closing it inside.
She moved to the adjecent corner, where her pile of bones laid. Maybe she should organize it later. Her eyes pointed out the multiple skulls, spines, and various other bones of mismatched animals, counting them in her head. She needed more, but she should sort through what she already had.
The hyena moved again, to a folding wood panel door, the closet, and pulled on the rope to slide it open.
"Mayy gehohdadaesaysay, yohuhj aree ujndaamayageheda."
Vathmos' eyes were greeted to her shrine of Lamashtu, bowing her head to it. Lamashtu had kept her alive, and brought her back to Tanglewood. "I'myah sayohreryeh I leefte yohuhj hayeree. Paleeasaye fohregehivaye maye." How dare she leave her symbols of Lamashtu here? They were of Vathmos' own creation- a jackal skull on a bed of now-rotted fur, watched over by a painting of Lamashtu's symbol on the wall, done by Vathmos with her own blood. The symbol had taken her a while. It was as tall as Vathmos was and she wouldn't dare make it of blood unworthy to her goddess. Drawing enough blood for it out of herself had been draining and took weeks. The fur was surrounded by a ring of stones, and other animal bones from Vathmos' collection, as an offering to the Mother of Beasts. It had been disturbed by the same vermin who ruined her things, so Vathmos made a note to repair the shrine soon.
She closed the closet door, turning back to the bed of skins, and beginning to grab layers of it with her teeth, and carry them outside. Once outside, she would put them into a pile there to dispose of. Maybe she could do this in peace before someone came to bother her.
TLDR; Lengthy discription of Vathmos' house and some character introspection. The pile of skins she used to sleep on rotted and got gross in her absence and now she's dragging it outside a few skins at a time to get rid of it.
NO NEED TO MATCH
It was dark and dusty- her nose crinkled at the smell of rat. Black eyes wandered about her home, her lips pulling up in disgust. Was it this bad when she left it? No, not as bad. Some pests must have gotten in here.
Vathmos' home was a small, ranch-style home. Most of the rooms were empty and devoid of life. Vathmos didn't live in Tanglewood long enough to make her house into a home. It had a small living room with old, patchy, rotting carpet. It had a singular couch, a club chair, and a empty, rotting entertainment center. She never did anything with this room- its vacancy made her feel lonely. The chairs were meant to accommodate more than one, and the prospect of being with others made Vathmos aware of her lack of friends. She glanced up at the hole in the roof, providing the only light in the house besides the broken windows. The entire area of the floor under it was black with rot and mold.
Vathmos stared at the couch for a moment. She couldn't think of most in Tanglewood as a friend. They were assets. They let her live here and let her participate in things. Tanglewood was a tool critical to her own survival. Tanglewood wasn't her family. No one was. Vathmos' priority in life was to survive, she needed to use anything and anyone to further that priority.
What Vathmos didn't realize was, if she could feel secure enough to stop focusing on her basic needs, she could work on building other things. She could try to be more active and helpful, she could get a better grasp of everyone, she could finally kill Snarl, she could do so much more.
At least she had Aurum, and maybe Mrish. How was the little Boarboya anyways? She should feed her later. Was Aurum even her friend, or was she just using him too? What did she gain from her friendship with Aurum? He didn't feed her, and he didn't protect her, so why were they friends?
Vathmos lifted her head, glancing at the empty, tiled room where she used to store her meals. She noted the trail of darkened, aged blood that led from the door, through the living room, and into the kitchen. The hyena moved, poking her head inside to see the skeletal remains of a deer she didn't finish before she left. Her nose crinkled again. More rat smell. Where were the little bastards? Their shit was everywhere.
She turned around, padding down the hallway to her room, and going inside. It was quiet and dusty, Vathmos noticed the mold on the carpet from rain getting in through the broken window. She moved to the corner, where her bedding once was. When she lived here, Vathmos had slept on a pile of skins of her kills. In her absence, the pile had been ripped apart by vermin and holes eaten through it. She cringed. She would have to make a new one. Vathmos moved to the medium sized box next to it- one of the few things Vathmos considered she actually owned- and opened it with her teeth. She tipped the box over with her nose to spill its contents, the skull making a clacking sound as it rolled over the wood and onto the carpet. Vathmos flipped over the large skull with her nose, her shrill chortle leaking out of her throat, tail wagging as she sat to inspect the skull. It was her mask. Something that proved she was once a member of Tanglewood. The mask was made from the top half of a lion skull, and Vathmos had gotten help to pad the inside and adjust it to her own face, so that the lion's massive fangs could be used in conjunction with her own teeth. It was painted with black and red markings, a symbol in the shape of teeth across the forehead of the skull. Vathmos considered it to be her own symbol, but perhaps she would add something to it later. She put the skull back in the box, grabbing it with her teeth and closing it inside.
She moved to the adjecent corner, where her pile of bones laid. Maybe she should organize it later. Her eyes pointed out the multiple skulls, spines, and various other bones of mismatched animals, counting them in her head. She needed more, but she should sort through what she already had.
The hyena moved again, to a folding wood panel door, the closet, and pulled on the rope to slide it open.
"Mayy gehohdadaesaysay, yohuhj aree ujndaamayageheda."
Vathmos' eyes were greeted to her shrine of Lamashtu, bowing her head to it. Lamashtu had kept her alive, and brought her back to Tanglewood. "I'myah sayohreryeh I leefte yohuhj hayeree. Paleeasaye fohregehivaye maye." How dare she leave her symbols of Lamashtu here? They were of Vathmos' own creation- a jackal skull on a bed of now-rotted fur, watched over by a painting of Lamashtu's symbol on the wall, done by Vathmos with her own blood. The symbol had taken her a while. It was as tall as Vathmos was and she wouldn't dare make it of blood unworthy to her goddess. Drawing enough blood for it out of herself had been draining and took weeks. The fur was surrounded by a ring of stones, and other animal bones from Vathmos' collection, as an offering to the Mother of Beasts. It had been disturbed by the same vermin who ruined her things, so Vathmos made a note to repair the shrine soon.
She closed the closet door, turning back to the bed of skins, and beginning to grab layers of it with her teeth, and carry them outside. Once outside, she would put them into a pile there to dispose of. Maybe she could do this in peace before someone came to bother her.
TLDR; Lengthy discription of Vathmos' house and some character introspection. The pile of skins she used to sleep on rotted and got gross in her absence and now she's dragging it outside a few skins at a time to get rid of it.
NO NEED TO MATCH
━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━
