#huntcraft

         the wood she wanders heedless of danger or lingering high is quiet.  the quiet almost unsettles a warm stomach as formless flames flicker and spin all about.   her claws leave naught of pawprints in the underbrush,  the sweep of silver furs contrasts against the dark,  dark bark of these trees  ;  her presence barely echoing in that quiet.   there is more,  certes,  upon unforgiving winds do voices whisper of ill things,  dead things.   a bouquet of rot wrapped up in bloodstained satin and broken twigs.  ears snap forward upon her head as the cracking of leaves presses behind her.   

a bundle of pals !

                ❛   my  blood  knights  are  spread  impossibly  thin  as  it  is ,   ❜      liadrin  steps  away  from  the  war  table ,   hands  finding  her  hips  as  she  straightens  her  back  and  golden  eyes  find  the  man  across  from  her .      ❛   i  will  not  be  calling  the  squadrons  in  quel’thalas  away  from  their  posts .   the  ones  already  here  and  in  arathi  are  all  you’re  going  to  get .   surely  you  can  find  another  order  to  bully  into  doing  your  banshee  queen’s  bidding .   ❜

His was not the realm of salt and sea. He was the earth and sand, impossibly nestled against the bosom of that which they all had coveted. Immense in power, and now through the outreach of his kin, immense in renewed influence. On the beating wings of a small silithid does the voice of C’thun creep into your ear. A buzz, a whisper, one indistinguishable from the rocking crash of waves against wooden vessel.

     THE SILVER SOUTH  clings to her flesh in the form of sweat - beads, marinating old skin with a rancid fervor.  if the heat doesn't kill her, the  impatience  will.  bony knuckles press into her cheeks while she stares dreamily at their newest family member, waiting for any sign of mutation to surface.  how proud he was to strike at his victim ;  how giddy he was to swallow it down !  the smell of it still sugarcoats the air.

     it's been a long while since she's seen a successful transformation.  the last two girls were wretched failures (  UNWORTHY !  ) that continue to taunt from their waterlogged graves.  but he  ——  oh, he just oozes potential !  marguerite licks over cracked lips as she leans closer to him.