05-17-2018, 08:09 PM
Abra
The forest is her home now. Morty has certainly picked a suitable place for the nightmares of Beqanna to dwell. Muscular limbs pull her across Sylva’s vastness, as spring sunlight pours through the various breaks in trees. Her home stays dark more often than not, and the copper color of the leaves gives it a distinct, eerie glow. There is nothing quite like it.
And there’s nothing quite like the golden mare she stumbles upon. It isn’t often that Abra finds another as hellbent on torture and killing as she, but here they are. Morty has told her about the laughing lady - how she’s crazy, but in the best way.
Jackel, he’d said her name was. And she was standing over her kill, licking blood from her lips with a pleased look on her face. They’d encountered each other once before, but Abra decides this is as good a time as any to get to know her better.
Living dead girl steps into the pool of crimson plasma. Two-toned eyes gaze up curiously at the laughing lady before looking down at the ground. Her ebony hooves becomes covered in the thick liquid, and she gives a wry smile. “You sure have some good handiwork,” Abra states, chuckling. “How is it that you’re not a warrior yet?”
I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams