#ask-fredtin

Something compelled Julie to act, and ever since coming to the fog, there wasn’t much deliberation between compulsion and doing. She merely jumped from one urge to the next, desperately grasping at the next fix that might make her feel good. Or just feel something. 

She wasn’t sure what was up with this guy. Quentin. Was he apart of the Legion? Was he a survivor? She never took a strong liking to new members, and he wasn’t an exception. She didn’t trust him, but she felt held back from acting on her frustrations. That was until something changed suddenly. Something weakened in him. Like he no longer had the veneer of power that the rest of the Legion held. Maybe the others would see through his farce now, but even that doesn’t feel like enough. 

His dampened state plays into her killer’s instinct beautifully. And like an orchestra at it’s crescendo, she rushes up on him, wrapping a strong hand around his neck and pushing him up against the nearest wall. She slams his head against the wood without any consideration to how it felt. 

At the slam, she lets out a low growl that oozes with the anger she’d been harboring for so long. It feels good just overpowering him, not that anything was stopping her from trying before. But the power shift feeds her murderous desires, and her growl is quick to turn into a taunting purr.