To me, the word of an old fool like you means less than nothing.
ELLE — FEMALE — PITT — PITTIAN — SERVAL
Good god, she was aging faster than a speeding train.
The serval's footfalls pounded through the marshy environment, the aches of multiple, all-in-one cramps travelling throughout her hind-legs. Her neatly chiseled head craned halfway over her shoulder to peer down at her flanks, and she paused in her tracks briefly to give them each a renewing quiver. Damn. How long had she been walking for at this point? Truth be told it felt like years, despite the fact Elle had endured many such travels similar to this very one. Her muzzle wrinkled back in irritability, revealing an array of polished white fangs. Now, of course, they were polished only because she preferred the method of rinsing them off. Typically the carnassials would just be more evidence to prove the number of kills she had made throughout her days. Just this morning she had managed to fight and eventually take down an ocelot, having gouged its chest with her magnificent black horns. A fine meal, it had been, a fine meal indeed.
But relevantly, Elle had cracked out this distance solely because she was on a... mission, she supposed. Just the teeniest reminding thought made the serval's blood start to boil. Bill, that pathetic fucker, had kicked her out, and it had all been thanks to Beatrix Kiddo. The serval spat out her disgust, a wad of saliva dampening the preliminarily moist dirt. She had to find a new refuge, thanks to the moronic pair. Ugh, good god she was growing sick already of all this... pointless walking. Nevertheless, only because the serval had oftentimes overheard of this cannibalistic clique which she was making her way toward, Elle had decided upon making her potential "home" there.
Once she had came to stop at the borders, the feline paused in her footsteps and sat back on her haunches, whiskers quivering impatiently. She would sit here and anticipate her escort. It may take an eon or two, but so long as it provided her a new shelter she was willing to take the risk. And, well, it wasn't like Elle hadn't taken plenty of risks before, anyway.
The serval's footfalls pounded through the marshy environment, the aches of multiple, all-in-one cramps travelling throughout her hind-legs. Her neatly chiseled head craned halfway over her shoulder to peer down at her flanks, and she paused in her tracks briefly to give them each a renewing quiver. Damn. How long had she been walking for at this point? Truth be told it felt like years, despite the fact Elle had endured many such travels similar to this very one. Her muzzle wrinkled back in irritability, revealing an array of polished white fangs. Now, of course, they were polished only because she preferred the method of rinsing them off. Typically the carnassials would just be more evidence to prove the number of kills she had made throughout her days. Just this morning she had managed to fight and eventually take down an ocelot, having gouged its chest with her magnificent black horns. A fine meal, it had been, a fine meal indeed.
But relevantly, Elle had cracked out this distance solely because she was on a... mission, she supposed. Just the teeniest reminding thought made the serval's blood start to boil. Bill, that pathetic fucker, had kicked her out, and it had all been thanks to Beatrix Kiddo. The serval spat out her disgust, a wad of saliva dampening the preliminarily moist dirt. She had to find a new refuge, thanks to the moronic pair. Ugh, good god she was growing sick already of all this... pointless walking. Nevertheless, only because the serval had oftentimes overheard of this cannibalistic clique which she was making her way toward, Elle had decided upon making her potential "home" there.
Once she had came to stop at the borders, the feline paused in her footsteps and sat back on her haunches, whiskers quivering impatiently. She would sit here and anticipate her escort. It may take an eon or two, but so long as it provided her a new shelter she was willing to take the risk. And, well, it wasn't like Elle hadn't taken plenty of risks before, anyway.
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[/td][td][div style="margin-top: -6px; margin-left: 5px; height: 75px; width: 250px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 8px;"]Elle is a female serval with she/her pronouns. She is a Pittian of The Pitt and is 52 months old. She is physically combative and mentally unstable. Speech in bold. Played by Elysianglory.[/td][/tr][/table]