rather be dead than live a lie! 乂 returning home

[merlin]

⛥ there's talk going 'round this town ⛥

the years that had passed since she had last stepped paw into tanglewood were few but the scent of peat and decaying greens was not one easily forgotten. nor were the mutated gators amongst other prey that called this shit-hole home. well, shit-hole was a bit rough, but it was home, or it was so long ago. except that now she wasn't as small or as 'delicate' as some would have put it. atbash wouldn't approve of her way of calling the swamp a shit-hole but her girlfriend was gone now - and she was all alone on the trek back through the beyond to lay to rest a few last memories.

paws squelching in the gross peat-y ground of tanglewood's swamps, the woman re-entered the territory that she had known for a few short months, the territory that jormungand had nearly killed her in, the territory that she called home once upon a time. now that time had rolled again for the fae, she was keen on returning and laying to rest the dead and missing, including her memory of sweet atbash cipher. there were many dead and missing, she would come to find out not too long from now, her paws now carrying her to the deathless hound tavern as the lioness moved with a mission.

looking at the doors before her, a faint flickering of emotion in her gaze before she pushed the doors open and walked inside, heavy paws carrying her inside. gaze roving the tavern, over the many faces and bodies there, her lips curling up into an easy smile. the celt was back home now. "ayo! guess who's back!? ya might not recognize me, but i'm back, ya goons!", she called out, easily interrupting the hub-bub of the patrons. it felt good to be back, "anybody remember a scarred up calico from a couple years ago? yup, that's me. merlin.", she rumbled on, walking to the front of the tavern bar to order herself a drink, more than gladly banging it back. nothing better than the ale of the swamps, nothing better than the folks of the swamp either!