Desreal: savage; --

“Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave.”
- Blade Runner

There were four of them now.

Two to one, one to three. Aunt, nightmare, daughter – Hobbes.

There are things she should do, others she should avenge. Artaxxas, who wished not to fail. Artaxxas, young and honorable. It had taken her days to find the missing piece of the jigsaw (conveniently, perhaps).

But Fenrisulfr is not stupid; even as she feels the familiar, nearly-welcome shiver of lightning that bursts at her skin like static and the faint sense she always gets when she is near the shards (perhaps because she has been bound to one and then enemy of one) she knows this is not the time.

Never be it said that Fenrisulfr has unrealistic expectations over herself.

A shadow, yes, she says almost as if their conversation never ended and the world didn’t take a 180 degrees turn to the left. And so are my parents, daughters and sister.

And so was the Wraith, she thinks. The Wraith bound and begging for his life as her sister murdered him.

From essence, and descent, falls the shadow.

Her one lover.

Figures.

But that doesn’t really matter, the winds sigh as she takes a step closer – her yellow eyes narrow for one small moment as she drifts, shadow-soft, to place her lips upon the claw-mark on his chest. it leaves a bright red smudge against the gray of her fur; when she breathes, the familiar scent crawls into her nostrils and nestles there.

Once upon a time, when she was young, the first time she’s met her father, she drank his blood like this.

He’s dead anyway. Severus.

fenrisulfr
some there be that shadows kiss,
such have but a shadow’s bliss