03-01-2021, 08:57 PM
tw - mentions of gore
The lioness reeked of the Typhoon but more importantly she reeked of blood. The smell was embedded into her pelt, sticking to her skin. The red substance dyed it and plastered her fur against her body thanks the the pelt she wore for she had no real care to clean it. Maybe later on. Still she had went to the Typhoon and stood at their gate to have a meaningful conversation with her father. But alas, the dead could not speak back and the four and a half year old lioness had encountered someone else. Someone who for all purposes was innocent of the war and threats she proceeded to go through on the Typhoon and the residence there. It left her confused to be so casually chating with her and to break that confusion after he had left her she had snuck into the territory. She had done what they had expected of her, to stop any sort of thought that there would be any chance of change between the two groups. She had descended on the tiger before he had a chance to so anything. His body carefully carved into with thick shards of ice. His screams quickly muffled as he collapsed to the ground. She hadn't wasted much time, skinning him alive so that she could watch the twitching of his muscles. His pelt was beautiful, one of white fur and golden stripes.
Now she wore it dropped over her form and her head almost like a cloak. Poor thing. Much of the body she had eaten halfway from the territory. Taking time to savor the morsels she was indulging in. The feeling of feline flesh sliding down her throat. It was satisfying, it silenced her true hunger. And now she carried his skull in her maw, a wistful feeling in her chest. Coming home. Home. It was what she deemed it to be and the mountain village was predominantly bustling. Moving through the evening rituals some kept. Some stopped to stare at her and she merely smiled back as she carried her companion to her porch. There she flopped down and curled her tail around her paws, holding the skull up to rattle it as if it was speaking to her. She giggled as she looked at it. "Well maybe you should have fought better. Harder. Smarter. You Typhooners are always so dull." Her brow furrowed as if she was listening for a moment. Skull jaw bones clanking and she snorted.
"Not my fault. Not my problem. And I can wear you for however long I want. The fur is lovely and will keep me warm. You don't need it anymore anyway." A smug look crossed her features before she suddenly frowned and the skull went clattering to the ground. Her eyes became black for a split moment before she began to try and lick the blood from her paws. "Never innocent to begin with."
The lioness reeked of the Typhoon but more importantly she reeked of blood. The smell was embedded into her pelt, sticking to her skin. The red substance dyed it and plastered her fur against her body thanks the the pelt she wore for she had no real care to clean it. Maybe later on. Still she had went to the Typhoon and stood at their gate to have a meaningful conversation with her father. But alas, the dead could not speak back and the four and a half year old lioness had encountered someone else. Someone who for all purposes was innocent of the war and threats she proceeded to go through on the Typhoon and the residence there. It left her confused to be so casually chating with her and to break that confusion after he had left her she had snuck into the territory. She had done what they had expected of her, to stop any sort of thought that there would be any chance of change between the two groups. She had descended on the tiger before he had a chance to so anything. His body carefully carved into with thick shards of ice. His screams quickly muffled as he collapsed to the ground. She hadn't wasted much time, skinning him alive so that she could watch the twitching of his muscles. His pelt was beautiful, one of white fur and golden stripes.
Now she wore it dropped over her form and her head almost like a cloak. Poor thing. Much of the body she had eaten halfway from the territory. Taking time to savor the morsels she was indulging in. The feeling of feline flesh sliding down her throat. It was satisfying, it silenced her true hunger. And now she carried his skull in her maw, a wistful feeling in her chest. Coming home. Home. It was what she deemed it to be and the mountain village was predominantly bustling. Moving through the evening rituals some kept. Some stopped to stare at her and she merely smiled back as she carried her companion to her porch. There she flopped down and curled her tail around her paws, holding the skull up to rattle it as if it was speaking to her. She giggled as she looked at it. "Well maybe you should have fought better. Harder. Smarter. You Typhooners are always so dull." Her brow furrowed as if she was listening for a moment. Skull jaw bones clanking and she snorted.
"Not my fault. Not my problem. And I can wear you for however long I want. The fur is lovely and will keep me warm. You don't need it anymore anyway." A smug look crossed her features before she suddenly frowned and the skull went clattering to the ground. Her eyes became black for a split moment before she began to try and lick the blood from her paws. "Never innocent to begin with."