Myra's Revenge
Myra \ Revenge / 4 / Loner / ~~ / Shapeshifting ; Feral Mind ; Empathy
Myra felt her body try to block the red and black ball from entering her heart, but she didn't resist in any other way -- at least, not to her knowledge -- and then let herself stretch out on her side, falling into slumber.
Revenge felt something tight around her stomach and throat, as though it were choking her. She tried to moved away from it, but she felt tied back. Her gaze turned to the wooden pole that the leather around her throat and body was tied to. As her gaze shifted elsewhere, she could only see stands full of people. No. No no. She could hear loud cheering and the baying of dogs, and she knew she was helpless. Again. The ropes that held the dogs and half-wolves back were cut, and she was attacked, viciously and brutally, teeth and sharp nails digging through her thick fur and into her skin as though it were simply paper. Her wings were tied down with the leather around her stomach. This wasn't a dream, she knew, it was a memory, but it felt just as real as it had been those years ago.
The scene changed. There were no dogs or half-wolves, but the pain was still there. Or rather. There were no living dogs or half-wolves. She was no longer a wolf. She was a human, and her hands were red, and she could hear herself laughing with what could have only been interpreted as pure glee. The people in the stands were silent, staring down at the hardly-a-teenager girl who was tied to the post just as the wolf had been, dressed in nothing but wolf skins. She used the blade in her hands to cut the leather from her throat and stomach as she rose to her feet. Myra's body shifted, a restless whine passing through her maw. Myra didn't want to. It was like watching a stranger. A bloodthirsty stranger who looked just like her, covered in fresh wounds and scars. Instead of black eyes, they were violet, and each person or animal she came across, she knew had died. Most escaped, but many had died by her hand that day, nearly three years ago.
Revenge watched as that scene faded away, and she approached a large pack of nearly twenty wolves. The majority of them were black and grey, and watched as "she" approached and dropped to the ground before the largest wolf, whose eyes were solid violet. "Myra's Revenge, I cast you out of the Prairie Wolves. You are to never return." She could feel her heart break again, and the fury that overcame her, and caused her to attack her own father. Myra didn't know if he had died or not, since she had run away the instant she'd regained control of herself. A distressed whimper escaped her partially open maw, her legs curling up against her body. It was almost obvious now, that her greatest fears were to return to her "fighting block" and to attack or kill her family.
{( Wee long post )}
