⛥ drop of rum on my tongue with a warning ⛥
Quiet came the thoughts of perseverance within her head, dragging of pad against soil, ears drooping. Foolish did she feel, pain still worming it's way through her body, as she knew it would remain for ages to come. Around her felt the presence of guards, ensuring a safe trip home, back to where she knew she belonged. Back to Atbash, one of her few friends, truly the one she could call the closest she'd grown to in her time within the group's boundaries. She knew that those who knew her, they would be happy to see her back home. That little bit of I belong here, sat a heavy stone in her chest, giving her the ability to return with a sense of happiness. Head lifting up high as she inhaled the scents of the swamp brought to them by a strong gale, her eyes closing as she took in the different medley of scents. The mire she called home was a place she could feel a sense of peace, where she would return to for the rest of her days.
Grievous the wounds she had suffered, the loss of such beautiful wings once held upon her back, a symbol of her deal with the bastard that had granted her a sick form of immortality. Alone was his control of her life, he alone chose when her life would be forfeit. She was sworn not to harm him or any of his bloodline, a bloody guardian made for bastard gray lord of the fae. New still was she, a child among the eyes of the elder fae, their ways of strange creation a sore thing to think of. Remembering the sworn deal, she could only see the twisted truth in his words. He had promised her lie with her family, and though her biological family laid six feet under across the land, there began new sprigs of a family within the fen she lived.
Pace struggling between her companions, the dull spirit within her eyes returning with a flare, jaws open to drink in the scents of the swamp, stomach growling for foods she knew. How she couldn't wait for a proper bowl of stew, nothing wrong with the food supplied by the Coalition, though she ached for certain comforts. One such missing comfort was a savannah by the name of Atbash, her nose twitching as she strained to push herself faster.
The scene left behind when Jormungand had captured her had been a mess, their fight had been a struggle, but she hadn't given in. She hadn't been able to protect herself, but she hoped that she had been able to in a way protect her groupmates from the menace that had taken her - she had served a suitable distraction for the brute. Towering had he been, met by the fury of a drunken Celt. She could only hope he'd learned his lesson in picking on the small ones. If not, her own claws had bore him reminders for time to come. His own marks upon her served no deterrent - she would gladly take him on again or any other enemy that threatened the peace of her home.
Head lifting as she was escorted to the border, her ears twitching. Home. Hone, she was home. Shaken her inhale, neck stretching as she stumbled forward, her voice breaking as she called out, "I'm home!", as her tail flicked behind her. She could move fairly freely though the weight of her missing wings often haunting her rest. She glanced back at the bodies that had guided her, looking for the few faces that she had recognized from her time there. Romulus himself was one of the few people she'd interacted with, and if she remembered from the haze, he'd been there to help guide her home.
Retro to typhoon raid on cotc//
MERLIN GWYNNE
penned by teef
penned by teef