SabbatH
i'll let you play the role. i'll be your animal.
She has mostly kept to herself since she found Adna in the north. Her rage has kept her warm throughout the winter months but now spring summons her from the depths of her jungle home. The serpent girl travels to the east in the hopes of stretching her legs for a while and shedding her worries over the latest disaster hanging like electricity in the air. Her parents had told her the dead were walking amongst the living once again but she found herself uninterested in such matters. They aren’t trying to eat anyone and she doesn’t know anyone who has passed on, so what does she care?
Sabbath passes through the autumnal forests of Sylva and the desert hills of Loess until she comes to the forests. She likes it best here, she thinks. All her worst memories revolve around the river or the regions further east. But she doesn’t reflect on the bitterness that wells up in her heart that threatens to spill over into her mood. Instead, she pushes it down as she always has. She carries on with her head held high, broken horn raised proudly.
The sun bleeds through the fresh spring leaves to highlight random inches of her dappled rose gray coat or to reflect off the vibrant scales adorning her hips and shoulders. She doesn’t know how beautiful she has become now that she has matured. Her mother’s high cheekbones and soft gaze, coupled with her father’s fierce green eyes, have come together to form something venomous and divine all at once. But she only loves her fangs, which she now runs her tongue over just to remind herself what she is.
A monster, cursed.
Where her ancestors were ashamed, however, she remains prideful and arrogant. The scales across her face and the venom in her jaws keep her safe from those who would harm her anymore. She is the medusa of the modern age, come to turn men’s heart to stones.
Sabbath passes through the autumnal forests of Sylva and the desert hills of Loess until she comes to the forests. She likes it best here, she thinks. All her worst memories revolve around the river or the regions further east. But she doesn’t reflect on the bitterness that wells up in her heart that threatens to spill over into her mood. Instead, she pushes it down as she always has. She carries on with her head held high, broken horn raised proudly.
The sun bleeds through the fresh spring leaves to highlight random inches of her dappled rose gray coat or to reflect off the vibrant scales adorning her hips and shoulders. She doesn’t know how beautiful she has become now that she has matured. Her mother’s high cheekbones and soft gaze, coupled with her father’s fierce green eyes, have come together to form something venomous and divine all at once. But she only loves her fangs, which she now runs her tongue over just to remind herself what she is.
A monster, cursed.
Where her ancestors were ashamed, however, she remains prideful and arrogant. The scales across her face and the venom in her jaws keep her safe from those who would harm her anymore. She is the medusa of the modern age, come to turn men’s heart to stones.