I don't need God. // Alexandre

[SETHIRAM]

Sweet dreams are made of this,
Who am I, to disagree?

The serval ruled out that shit had hit the fan. And even so, the wounded woman was next in line to go tend to the prisoner Seven had so rightfully beaten into the ground. She wished she had been there to see it, but the serval had heard the curdling scream that Seven had let out, and it chilled her. It reminded her too much of a past she wanted to leave out. But some things stayed. The hooked tooth that was wrapped around a cord and tied around her neck jostled with each step as she entered the dungeon.

The basket of very bare and essential food items swayed gently as she continued, eye adjusting to the darkness as she walked. The other eye had been patched up, leaving her muzzle to remain torn and scarred. She didn't really mind -- her own stench of sickness overwhelmed the smell of blood any time of the day. The spoils of war.

"Food delivery." She chimed, halting at the metal rails that held back the prisoner. She dropped the basket, sitting down to wait for the Typhooner to approach.

[member=16449]ALEXANDRE[/member]

— Reggan