bloodline (p)
Mar 9, 2015 18:52:11 GMT -5
Post by spook on Mar 9, 2015 18:52:11 GMT -5
GIVE ME THE LIGHT, GIVE ME YOUR LOVE
GIVE ME YOUR INNOCENCE
GIVE ME YOUR INNOCENCE
Morrigan hated the indoors—for a dog with very few emotional reactions, her loathing of human constructs and the unnatural shade they provided often proved taxing. She’d never examined her adverse reaction to being inside—undue rumination on the past also irritated her, as did repeated prying questions regarding her history. All she knew, and all she cared to know, was that upon arriving in this city, she’d established herself high in the mountains where she had to fight to breathe. The only shade she knew flitted between the trees, dappled with sunshine. Even so, when she’d found the clandestine entrance leading to the fortress’ dungeons, she’d followed the path.
Because it smelled like nothing she’d ever smelled before—an intoxicating mixture of fear and death, ancient scents that endured, engraved into the stone walls. What had initially been a mission of nostalgia became a mission of exploration. The tall white greyhound walked through the dungeons, drifting along the walls, lingering in the patches of sunshine that filtered through the broken windows. It was dark in a way she’d rarely known, old fear baking out of the walls and into her, dark thoughts lighting within her brain as she walked.
It would be a dangerous place, she thought, for someone without the mental fortitude she possessed. She closed her eyes and lifted her muzzle, became very still. Yes—she felt it, hatred, pain, the distinct black stain on her mind that signified death. And beyond the defunct scents inscribed into the fortress’ foundations, she smelled something else, many newer scents that suggested other dogs had also found the tunnels leading into this place. No matter—she was alone now.
She curved her muzzle down to the point where her foreleg met her chest, cut a divot into her flesh with her front teeth. It was a neurotic, almost distracted motion, carrying none of the purpose of her usual rituals. After a moment she blinked, eyes opening, and lifted her head again, blood staining the front of her mouth.
for »River