01-23-2021, 09:32 PM
give my all to watch you fall
There is a lot she has yet to experience in this new, second lifetime still. She has died, but she hasn’t lived – not fully, anyway.
Before, she’d been the master and keeper of her every move, had existed only for herself and the next step into the unknown ahead. She had kept her brother and his family after that, had circled their edges like a predator looking for any weaklings in the herd lest one of them try to break away. Eventually she failed at that endeavor, too, and their little clan splintered and fractured into individual parts that once made a whole. Had once made her whole, even. She carried on but it was never the same. All the wild places that were the most unforgiving became her spaces of repentance for all she hadn’t done, all those she had failed to protect.
And then the flames licked at her old feet and consumed all of her first sins.
Titanya relishes her rebirth because she will not let herself become a cesspool of stagnation again. She has already done more than she could have ever imagined the first time around, but it is not enough. There is an urgency that brings her back to the common lands day in and day out, always searching for what comes next, always craving something she cannot find. Taunting even-keeled men who hardly react brings her no closer to satiating her hunger, she finds. And talking of hunting instead of actually hunting only leaves her frustrated.
Too soft, he muses, and she barely hides a contemptuous snort. It does present an opportunity though, something to do. “That can be fixed, you know.” Her amber eyes narrow on the champagne’s face, sizing him up and not giving any indication either way on what she decides. Titanya sends a few tendrils of her own power out to him. It is his for the taking, this increased density, if he chooses to use it.
“Have you ever wanted to destroy something? I do, all the time.” She says it plainly and without remorse. Her gaze shifts to a crooked young tree with a missing crown, perhaps one that had been sheared off by wind or lightning, she thinks – the perfect target. “You should easily be able to kick it over, or kick through it, even. If you want to that is. It’s what I do besides hunting: creative rearrangements.” She laughs a little, caught up in her own bravado. Adrenaline surges through her veins at the thought of what he can do, of what she has done many times herself. She wonders if he’ll feel the rush too, if he’ll decide today that he is made of iron and not wool.
Before, she’d been the master and keeper of her every move, had existed only for herself and the next step into the unknown ahead. She had kept her brother and his family after that, had circled their edges like a predator looking for any weaklings in the herd lest one of them try to break away. Eventually she failed at that endeavor, too, and their little clan splintered and fractured into individual parts that once made a whole. Had once made her whole, even. She carried on but it was never the same. All the wild places that were the most unforgiving became her spaces of repentance for all she hadn’t done, all those she had failed to protect.
And then the flames licked at her old feet and consumed all of her first sins.
Titanya relishes her rebirth because she will not let herself become a cesspool of stagnation again. She has already done more than she could have ever imagined the first time around, but it is not enough. There is an urgency that brings her back to the common lands day in and day out, always searching for what comes next, always craving something she cannot find. Taunting even-keeled men who hardly react brings her no closer to satiating her hunger, she finds. And talking of hunting instead of actually hunting only leaves her frustrated.
Too soft, he muses, and she barely hides a contemptuous snort. It does present an opportunity though, something to do. “That can be fixed, you know.” Her amber eyes narrow on the champagne’s face, sizing him up and not giving any indication either way on what she decides. Titanya sends a few tendrils of her own power out to him. It is his for the taking, this increased density, if he chooses to use it.
“Have you ever wanted to destroy something? I do, all the time.” She says it plainly and without remorse. Her gaze shifts to a crooked young tree with a missing crown, perhaps one that had been sheared off by wind or lightning, she thinks – the perfect target. “You should easily be able to kick it over, or kick through it, even. If you want to that is. It’s what I do besides hunting: creative rearrangements.” She laughs a little, caught up in her own bravado. Adrenaline surges through her veins at the thought of what he can do, of what she has done many times herself. She wonders if he’ll feel the rush too, if he’ll decide today that he is made of iron and not wool.
@[rapt]: she is lending him some increased density if he wants it, if not, feel free to ignore it