Dead Empress Backwater i like girls with degrees, i like girls on killing sprees

Something had changed, most certainly.

Isla found she cherished the way this occurred and happened. That she had simply been able to make him falter, bow out. It mattered not if her own face bled or her chest bruised. His opening to get away was there as she ceased finally. She didn't want to kill the boy, much like a rabbit. No, she only wanted to scare him, to remind him of things that he just didn't seem to understand!

He could escape and she would graciously let him.

Not without a few more warning clicks of her teeth though, hoping to send him far away from her and her now ruined meal.

It was easier to breakaway than he anticipated, relief flooding his bruised chest as finally he was no longer tangled amongst her stomping limbs. He didn't think twice about bolting from the scene altogether, scampering to one of his more reclusive hiding spots. Finding familiar limestone crevices he crawled deep within until he could hardly move at all. The pressure all around helped calm his hammering heart and the cold wet of the stone soothed the aches along his frame.

Asmund couldn't help but think that something had to give, finally recognizing his habits as unsustainable. When the world pushed him around as it constantly did, he needed to be strong enough to hit back.

(This post was last modified: Dec 06, 2022, 11:50 PM by Asmund.)