Aut Vincere Aut Mori

“Fuce-sheema Kame-crazy War Boys!”

New Mexico.

(( come here and get some smooth lovin bby))<\p>

19 y/o Flamma.

Flamma and ghoul mount sketches.

-I actually prefer salty things, too many false promises and fights have begun from others offering sour things in the guise of sweet. -The monsoon season is always my favorite. Rain is a rare and much loved event in the life of a desert dweller. Not that water isn't plentiful at The Fort, but a gift from the sky is to be treasured.-It is no great secret that my life and status hinge solely on the chance Lucius took on me. He has mentored me and shown faith in me. I dare to imagine when I achieved the rank Praetorian there was a subtle glimmer of pride in his eyes.Each hard lesson; each painful defeat, a reminder that if he did not care and wish to see me succeed he would not even bother, or have spared me the day he found me.

Ah. Nightmares.Bright. Vivid. Ethereal memories that last only moments after the last vestiges of sleep drain completely to consciousness. They seem almost harmless at first, but usually this benign facade gives away the inevitable conclusion. As if my mind wishes to pretend the eldritch horrors that ghost behind each gentle image do not exist.It is fortunate I can never fully remember them, only the cold sweat and pounding heart the terrors leave behind.

I prefer night. The sun is harder on me than he is on most, my skin is pallid and vulnerable; prone to infection and burns. The night is cool and feels---right. Et Luna pulchra has been a kind mother on most nights.