| LIKE WATER FLOWING INTO LUNGS.
The shadowspinner had seen strange things - unspeakable things - happen upon these lands. However, she could detect a palpable shift in the ground underfoot. There was simply more. More magic in the air and imbued within the lands themselves. More unpredictability than before. This place was more alive than it had been in years. She wasn’t sure if this was an advantage or detriment to those that called this place home, and she didn’t particularly care. She was never one who required stability. This unpredictable, evolving landscape suited the shadow-mare just fine.
The cold woman had never existed in a world defined by stability, not even when she was young and mortal. Chaos was where she thrived. It’s where she’d first cut her teeth in the twisted world of politics and had existed ever since. She knew her children - her monsters - would thrive in such an environment. However she would never risk them by calling upon them before she was certain of her next move. The shadowmare was many things, but impulsive was not one of them.
Her ice blue eyes flicked back to her surroundings. She’d been unnoticed by most who continued to go about their business. She could hear the dull thrum of mundane conversation in the background. Her nostrils flared as the musky, canine scent filled her nostrils. She found the sense of the scent immediately. She fixed her cold gaze on the creature as it moved through the tall, dry grass.
She sensed the equine form that lurked below - long abandoned for the beast within. She could relate to that, in a strange way. She’d never demeaned herself to living as a dog but she could relate to leaving behind yourself to become something greater. It was clear that she had caught his attention as well, but she did not move to greet him. She never was one for pleasantries.
“That’s close enough, Pup. I don’t want fleas,” she said, in a cold, expressionless voice. Her gaze remained fixed on the hellhound, her face betraying no emotions. No amusement. No pleasure or displeasure at being approached. Only cold, ice, and shadow.
“Who are you?” she asks, in the same cool voice, with no discernable curiosity in her voice.
A N A X A R E T E
been there, done that |
