[open] you're the means and the end

[asphyxea]

asphyxea

i've been around this world and now everything's a bore
i don't know that much, but i know about keeping score

With a crescendo of whips and snaps, Asphyxea crashes through loosely grouped trees to the pebble-strewn shore of a quiet cove. She comes to a sliding halt in the water, liquid splashing upward to spatter her teal and gold fur. Moonlight from an oval opening opposite her illuminates her panting, alive face as the furious snarling of hungry wolves sings behind her. She cranes her neck around to peer at the direction the wolves are following her from, face now shadowed as her aquamarine mane glitters beneath the moon.

Around her is pockmarked rock, save for the opening steeped by levels of rock and gently falling water. She could run for it, escape into the light and toward the ocean; but what fun would that be? Instead of fleeing those that wish to make her prey, Phyx turns back around to study the clinging vines trailing up the damp rock walls, then back to the trees and the sparkling pebbles.

The chorus of wolves grows louder.

Phyx digs her talons into the sucking mud, cursing her parents for not passing on their wings. She'd light the creatures on fire from above once she was finished with them, but it appears as though her only option is potentially losing their chase through the stacked waterfall. The princess snorts to herself, nodding her head up and down energetically before turning to splash into deeper water. She is just in time, too - for the wolves now crowd the bank and splash desperately into the once-calm cove.

Boisterous, haugty laughter peals from Phyx's throat as she launches onto the first waterlogged ledge, talons digging into the silt and rock for a better hold. From here, she sees how the opening stretches into a wide river and even wider ocean. She gallops now, out of the water and into rough sand that kicks up as she goes. The wolves nip hungrily at her heels, frantically attempting to surround her but not quite fast enough to form a circle.

Phyx cackles now, barreling toward the gentle washing of the winter ocean. Smoke rolls from between her open lips, twisting and spiraling around her sharp teeth and gold lips.

When she reaches the sea that the predators won't dare venture into, she'll blast them with fire and fury.

As long as they don't catch her first.

and if there's one thing i know for sure,
it'd be a long cold day in hell when i take you back

i think she's a psychopath but we'll see