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theateared · 4 years

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ii.

The second time they crossed paths, she was much more presentable.

Or at least, ever the skewed individual, that was how Edgar would have described her.

He’d tracked something into the depths of the forest, though by the time he’d wound himself through the thick bracken and brambles overhead, his kill had been stolen-- or, that was the word he would use. In truth, she’d merely been hunting the same thing from the opposite way; though they’d met in the middle, she had ultimately been closer to it.

“Oh?” he asked, standing in the mouth of the clearing, watching her feed. The sound of his voice was like a bolt of lightning; it caused her spine to straighten, tail automatically coiling into a defensive position before she turned around to regard him, her fur matted with blood. “That was mine.”

“Was,” she said, a paw swiping across her face to rid it of as much gore as possible. “Past tense.”

He should have been annoyed, should have displayed his dominance in a fit of rage, but he felt his mouth curl into a grin. Who are you? I like you.

This time, when he took a step closer to her, she didn’t retreat.

“It isn’t wise to hunt alone,” he remarked, ears stood tall. They hadn’t picked up on any other sound as he’d entered the clearing, giving him the solid impression that it was just the two of them there. It hadn’t taken as long as one might imagine for him to learn the ways of the wild. Some would argue that he’d been an animal long before he’d occupied the body of a lye. “Where are your creedmates?”

“I don’t have them,” she replied, voice unflinching. Even so, he could smell it: that hint of trepidation; the apprehension that accompanied a lone soul in the midst of a confrontation. It led him to a startling truth: she really didn’t have anybody to come to her aid. The thought made him grin wider, approaching until he was sitting beside her. A crooked leg of the dead separated them, though the gap was small, barely mindful.

Up close, she looked all the more intriguing to him. He could see small indents in her ashen fur, proof of teeth and claws, and the hint of multiple different scents clinging to her had him assuming that she was either a whore or she’d had a close shave with an unsavoury group of lyes. Whatever the case, she had wound up injured, small and kitten-esque even in his wake. What interested him the most, however, was the patterns in her fur. Though the area around her mouth had taken on a crimson sheen, the light grey mark resembling a heart beneath her eye drew him in. He realised with some amount of intrigue that she had a similar marking on her chest; it lined it attractively, the sides curving behind her legs, leaving her underside an adorable grey.

You had a Signature*… but something clawed over it. Did you do that?

“ … you truly don’t belong to anyone?” he asked, one paw settling atop the carcass he’d been dead set on since noon. When she didn’t respond, his claws sank in, drawing meat from the fleshy body, teeth bared in a wide smile. “Nobody to come and help you?”

“I don’t need help,” she spat back with a glare.

“Why are you so aggressive?” he quizzed with a chuckle. “I could kill you for commandeering my kill, you know.” Come the end of things, she could do nothing to keep him from feeding too. If she struck an issue with his imposed sharing methods, she knew it was likely that she would face the wrath of a far stronger lye. Even his expression was enough to put her on edge... though she didn’t want to bend to his whim, she also didn’t want to annoy him too much. After eating her fill, Grace stood up from her spot, taking a few calculated steps away from him.

“You can have it,” she commented dismissively. At the very least, the illusion of choice was there. She watched his head swivel in her direction, black sclerae seeming all the more dark when accompanied with such a ghoulish smile.

Why do you look like that? What are you so damn happy about?

“What an angel.” “Don’t call me that.” “Struck a nerve, dear?”

She’d been doing so well. Though cold and unresponsive, she hadn’t revealed her anger until then. It caused her face to slacken, the uptight scowl there melting into a resigned line. Part of her wanted confrontation; awaited the swift pierce of his claws and teeth with breath so bated that it made it feel perverse. As tough as she was, she was certain that he didn’t miss the hint of anguish she carried along with her like a small block of concrete, like a stone in her pocket, its weight manageable but present nonetheless. It followed her cleanly, even as she turned her back on him and left.

#🞮 — if i could i'd trade my heart for a second brain. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#long post /#* a signature is an alpha's official mark; every lye's teeth leave a different imprint. however slight that difference may be #the alpha's scent also clings to them through the bite.

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theateared · 4 years

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❝ I got sent upstairs, ❞ she said with a huff, legs dangling out of the window. In her hands sat a juice-box, the end of her straw chewed out of frustration. ❝ Tch. Wanna know why? ❞

#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#☆ — show me your violence. ❜ ( opens. )

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theateared · 4 years

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Today’s doodles.

#🞮 — if i could i'd trade my heart for a second brain. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#🞮 — i think you're gonna be my biggest fan! ❜ ( murr. )#☆ — give back my halo you stole. ❜ ( image. )#crow's art *

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theateared · 4 years

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LYE HEADCANON / ALPHAS AND INFERIORS.

_____ 【 🞮 】 _____

So I’m basically just gonna drop some general notes about lyes and how they work because I’ve been wanting to distance myself from shady genres for a while now. I also want my own lore to be acknowledged for my own race, so I gotta explain how it all works!

There are only two roles lyes can slot into in terms of their position of power within a creed - Alphas or inferiors. As a rule of thumb, there is one Alpha per creed and the rest are inferiors. There are no inbetweeners. There is one clear leader, the Alpha, and the rest are his/her followers. Factions ( hunters, scouts, etc ) are separate from positions of power; they are JOBS, not TITLES.

Lyes are not born or assigned the role as either an Alpha or an inferior based on temperament/personality/any other bullshit ‘’I can just tell’’ reason. Any lye can be either, because lyes are sentient creatures that, while wild, have a moral code of their own to follow. They themselves crafted the terms ‘’Alphas’’ and ‘’inferiors’’. They themselves decided that having one definitive leader is the best way for a creed to operate.

Alphas only become Alphas through trials that prove their competence. They are elected, much like people elect presidents/prime ministers. They are not like monarchs where they are born into it. Lyes have determined that giving existing Alphas the power to crown their offspring as the '’heir’’ to their power has led to some truly incompetent leaders, and it causes direct conflict between how lyes raise their children anyway ( as in, they are supposed to be sent off on their own after three months ). These trials could be anything from hunting missions to brawling his or her competition to prove who is stronger. As a rule of thumb, most aspiring Alphas are posed with three different trials, each one different and meant to test different abilities ( their ability to hunt, their ability to fight, etc ).

On a similar vein, ALPHAS HAVE TO BE MULTI-TALENTED. It’s no good to be the best hunter in the creed but be unable to scout, for example. That is why the trials all differ. An Alpha must be chosen carefully for they are to lead the entire group. Some would argue that it’s actually the inferiors that have the most power during this ‘election’ process. They determine who serves them the best, nobody else, and their word is final.

Being an inferior does not make a lye automatically submissive/meek/a damsel/etc. It simply means that when their Alpha tells them do something relating to their duties, they do it. They’re not little doves that can’t do anything just because they themselves are not for the leader of the group; it just means that, when push comes to shove, they answer to their Alpha.

Alphas are not treated like kings or figures that ‘’get everything they want’’. In a lot of regards, Alpha actually come last. They are the last to eat for they are expected to either kill for food for their pack or orchestrate/plan hunts that the group’s hunters can go on to retrieve food en-masse. During heat, they are often the last to mate for they are to perform routine checks to ensure their litter squats are safe and that no predators are around to take advantage of their compromised state. They are also often the last to be considered. Because an Alpha is responsible for him/herself as well as everyone in the group, inferiors tend not think too much about their leader’s feelings or wellbeing. He/she is expected to maintain that on his own.

Some extra notes to really expel those bad A/O/B vibes from these funky little guys: 1) Alphas are not automatically entitled to mates just because of his/her status. It does however make them more desirable. Because relationships don’t typically unfold between lyes, an Alpha does not have to be careful when it comes to ‘’choosing the right suitor’’.

2) Alphas can change. If an inferior feels their Alpha isn’t up to scratch and feel that they are more capable, they can challenge him/her for his position.

3) Despite being sex-obsessed little critters, lyes do not actually ‘’pair off’’ with anybody based on their position, because there are only two and the Alpha spot can only be taken by one lye.

4) Alphas are often targeted, both by rivals and by lustful parties. The quickest way to shatter a creed is to take out its leader, as a new election takes time, and the quickest way to be seen as the shit in a creed is to earn the Alpha’s interest/become the Alpha’s go-to for mating/even, in rare instances, become the Alpha’s mate. For these reasons, Alphas are often very self-aware, very vigilant and very cynical when it comes to their inferiors’ intentions.

#🞮 — if i could i'd trade my heart for a second brain. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#🞮 — i get lost in the nothingness inside of me. ❜ ( moxie. )#☆ — my tired thoughts don't take vacations. ❜ ( headcanons. )#/ long post #/ PLS PLS PLS GIVE THIS A READ TBH I PUT SO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT!#AND I FEEL WITH THAT ANON I GOT EARLIER - IT WAS HIGHTIME I WROTE THIS!#and ofc if you have questions feel free to ask!

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theateared · 4 years

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- soft sigh -

#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — give back my halo you stole. ❜ ( image. )#crow's art *

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theateared · 4 years

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LYE HEADCANON / HOW LYES FIGHT.

So, as I’ve stated multiple times in the narrative and out of character with the few people who talk to me, lyes are some of the most fearsome predators in No-Man’s despite their small size, and I wanted to kind of detail how they use their small statures to their advantage, even without the use of their potent venom or, in hybrids’ cases, ‘extra powers’.

First off, lyes almost always hunt officially in packs. Though there are different ‘factions’ within most creeds-- hunters, scouts, etc-- hunters tend to go off together. Sometimes, sheer number brings prey down, because while one tiny creature latched onto one leg might not be a problem, one tiny creature around every leg/arm, and your shoulders, and your throat, and your wings or whatever it is you may use to retreat, it quickly leads to you being overwhelmed and subdued.

However, a lot of confrontations they engage in aren’t calculated events. A lot of lyes just kill in the moment, either to feed or to defend themselves from foes. So what then?

Firstly, they’re fast little things. Fastards, if you will. Because they’re so small, the majority of them are able to carry themselves with extreme speed. It’s very unlikely that you can outrun a lye if they run at you for real. They often use this agility to dodge hard-hitting attacks from larger creatures and then strike in the next breath. Lyes often go for a bottom-up approach, meaning they’ll often take out the legs first. And it makes sense - if something is running away, it’s using its legs; take out the legs and most are unable to continue fleeing. Once prey has been rendered immobile, they often go straight for the kill, either by snapping their teeth into their neck, or by injecting them with poison and waiting the short amount of time it takes for the poison to take over their body There’s also the fact that their tails are likened to metal in some folklore. Though they are thin and unassuming, they can withstand a great deal of weight, and apply a great deal of weight too.

Lyes also learn. Even before Edgar became what he was, my main thing with lyes was to have a post-burial Church from Pet Semetary sort of vibe: it’s an animal, but it’s not. It knows things. It has some level of sentience that it shouldn’t have - it reacts much like a person would. It can hate, it can hold grudges, and it can retain knowledge. Case and point: Edgar has learned that if he jabs the sharp end of his tail into the barrel of a gun, the weapon will often jam up, either for a short amount of time or indefinitely. Or, if it’s a poorly/cheaply made gun, split in two and fall apart. Once he realised that his tail was strong enough to do that, he utilised it in future confrontations with hunters. And this isn’t an isolated incident; lyes do this sort of shit all the time. They learn weak spots of certain species/races; they learn the limits of their own abilities and don’t tend to overestimate themselves; they have even been observed to use objects on occasion, like birds sharpening sticks into makeshift spears and whatnot. The fuckers are smart.

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theateared · 4 years

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❝ How do you feel? ❞ he asked, as he watched Grace leave the bathroom, long blonde hair rubbed between two ends of a fluffy white towel. Their chosen inn had started to recognise them at this point; stored their usual things with more purposeful abundance whenever Edgar called for their reservation.

❝ Better, ❞ she replied, a relaxed smile on her face as she perched on the end of the bed beside him. She didn’t stop him as he wound an arm loosely around her waist, squeezing her to him for a moment before releasing her once more. When he looked down at her, he witnessed a strangely pensive look on her face, damp strands of hair twiddled absentmindedly.

❝ What...? ❞ he asked, watching as she turned to look up at him.

With a bashful smile: ❝ It’s stupid, but... don’t you think that one day, it’d be nice to have a place of our own to return to? Not an inn? ❞

He raised his eyebrows, an almost coy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ❝ Like a house? ❞

❝ Heh... yeah. Like the huros? ❞ She fumbled with the towel in her lap then, smile sobering somewhat. ❝ We’re not like them... I know. We can’t. But it’s a nice thought. ❞

❝ Mm, ❞ he hummed in agreement, already beginning to fantasise. We’re rolling on down the ol’ dirt road again, Eddie. We’re thinking about bedrooms, and welcome mats, and nurseries-- ❝ That it is. ❞

#🞮 — if i could i'd trade my heart for a second brain. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#/ I'M JUST DOING TINY DRABBLES BEFORE WORK AAAAAAAAA #but at some point. i'm TORN obviously because of eddie's past but i kinda like the idea of him marrying grace come the end of things.......#but obviously there's a lot of 'no i can't beacuse -beatboxes- then i will murder u' first #but them talking about houses and children and shit when they belong to a breed that's considered 'animal'? my kink

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theateared · 4 years

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It Doesn’t Matter. ❜

Summary: No more.

Warnings/Author’s notes: Mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of forced conception. All sensitive topics are treated with sensitivity and are cast in a wholly negative light. This isn’t a kink-fic, nor a self-indulgent NSFW drabble like when I write Eddie/Grace content, this is important backstory for Grace, hence why I’ve written it and not shied away from certain details. Thanks.

It rarely ever stopped.

When one lye was finished, another took their place, and the cycle continued. She’d lost feeling in her body several days ago, her stare blank and empty as it remained glued to the sky. At night, she would stare at the stars and wish with all of her might to join them, to cut ties with her empty vessel and float aimlessly along the Astral Plane. Not even laying eggs made her feel much anymore - and even though her heat cycle had finished a couple of weeks ago, making her incapable of conceiving children any longer, it wasn’t stopping them from using her.

That night was strange.

After the woman atop her had moved away, spitting on her face to finish, nobody else came. Gradually, Grace’s ears perked up, listening for the approaching footsteps, the dread in her stomach thick and heavy.

Someone’s coming. They always are.

For the first time in weeks, Grace brought her legs together, closing them. She was a small thing in her true form. Her normally sleek black coat was ruffled and matted by her legs, a myriad of fluids soaking the fur until it had turned borderline solid. Only when she was certain that nobody was coming did she dare to roll onto her front, the grass sounding all too loud to her alert ears. Tired eyes fixed on the trees in front of her.

I wish I could run into them. I wish I could get up and not look back.

Her heart stopped as she heard somebody coming towards her, body tense and frightened. However, they walked past without even looking at her. I wonder where they’re going. I wonder what order they’ve been given. I’d kill to receive an order at this point - I’d do more than kill.

The lye’s head slowly turned to the side to regard her fallen companions. Those that had met a similar fate to her had either turned into unresponsive drones, died at the hands of those that abused them, or worse, turned into whores in heat. That was the worst, Grace would argue. Previously well put together women begging for strangers to defile them-- to make her watch as they were surrounded and overpowered. Though she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t personal, that these poor women had been broken, just like her, she couldn’t help but feel mortified by their taunts.

Don’t act like you don’t love it, Grace! This is what we’re made for!

She turned away, unable to look any longer. As much as she hated to admit it, her respect for these lyes was gone. It wasn’t their fault. They had simply snapped under the circumstances in a different way, but she still couldn’t find it in her to forgive them for the horrible things that they had said to her-- for the depraved things they had begged their abusers to do.

I want to run.

The forest was stared at out of the corner of her eye, then wholly. Though she hadn’t moved from her position on the ground, it seemed much closer than before-- as if her willpower had tied a string around the earth and tugged it closer to her.

Everything aches. I don’t know if I can move. I haven’t moved properly in weeks. I’ve had children recently, so I’m weaker.

Dear Raku, please have my children survive this. Please God, take care of them.

“Think she’s almost done.”

The voice caught her attention, ear subtly flicking in its direction. As she honed in on the conversation, she realised that Nyx ( her current Alpha, by technicality - Grace had denounced her involvement with the creed privately several weeks ago but had not been in a position to do so officially ) and one of her hunters were talking.

“Doesn’t even scream anymore. She’s like a corpse. Best to kill her.”

“Don’t be so quick, Flit!” Her voice makes me sick. “She’s still of use. She’s still alive, so she can still be bred.”

“But she can’t lay more eggs until the next heat cycle. What do we do with her until then?”

Her Alpha laughed. It was a shrill noise, as if she was about to explode from the hilarity of it all. “Whatever we like! You’re thinking of her as a lye, not as a possession. That’s a dangerous thing to do.”

Grace zoned out then, not content to listen to them any more. She felt hurt and worthless, but most of all, she felt angry. It started as an ember in her stomach; a flicker of annoyance in the hollow dark, though as time went on, it became a wildfire. In her mind’s eye, it tore down trees and burned this sorry creed alive. It melted her Alpha’s flesh from her bones and buried her beneath a poetic heap of ash. It charged her aching limbs, making her slowly rise from the ground on shaking legs, the movement discreet so as not to draw attention to herself.

How could you do this to someone? How dare you do this to someone?

Her battered body protested against her weight, joints cracking, vision bleary and unfocused as she stared into the hole through the trees. You’re not a toy, Grace. You’re not a toy. Are you going to let these lyes take your life? Are you going to let this woman reduce you to nothing? She isn’t your Alpha, not really. An Alpha wouldn’t hurt you like this.

Then why have both of my Alphas been shitty people?

You have to take care of yourself, Grace. No. More.

She didn’t even think about it when she tore off. Her desperate movement alerted both her Alpha and Flit, their heads snapping in her direction. Traitor. Don’t fucking look at me.

“OI!” It was all she heard as she darted into the trees. She was slow to start-- or at least, what she would consider slow. Her main skill was her speed and agility, and that had been so no matter where she had been. In both of her creeds, she had always wound up a scout as opposed to anything else. Her footwork was clean, beautiful, coveted even; so much so that it could put world-famous ballet dancers to shame. Everybody was replaceable, or so the idiom went, but she would bet a bitter cold’s worth of food that she could outfox most.

It didn’t take long for sets of feet to register in her ears.

They’re chasing me. And if they catch me, I’m dead.

She forced her legs to move quicker, for her brain to wake up. It had been a long time since she had moved at all, nevermind run for her life, and it was wearing her thin. The only thing keeping her going was knowing that, if she didn’t, she’d wind up there again. It would go back to how it was, she’d be nothing more than a sex doll - and that was if they didn’t kill her for attempting to run away. The fact that being reduced to a toy again was her best outcome just made her run faster.

Her ears gradually became attuned to her surroundings, senses guiding her through the dark. As she became accustomed to movement again, her footwork became more elaborate. I have to throw them off. I can’t run in a straight line.

She weaved through trees and ran through bushes, curling herself up trunks and flitting through branches as if she had wings and not legs. She barely leapt aside as a hunter descended from above, sending him barrelling into a tree instead. He hit it so hard that he didn’t get up again, lying motionless at its base, and Grace couldn’t help but laugh as she tore through the dark. It was a crazed noise, one full of fear and fury, and it echoed around them as they ran.

Shut up. It’s keeping you on their radar.

“You’re DEAD, bitch! FUCKING DEAD!”

Furiously, she forced herself to pick up speed, charging straight into a thick fog. It was a risky move, though she heard the briefest of hesitation before they continued to pursue her. They didn’t want to go in there. They didn’t want to compromise their sight even further.

At some point, she stopped thinking. Her brain switched into autopilot, carrying her seamlessly through landmarks and obstacles alike. With her ears and nose fully focused on where she was going, it wasn’t too hard to manoeuvre, even in spite of the dark. With the adrenaline coursing through her, each shot like a tsunami more powerful than the last, her tired body fell into the back of her mind.

I refuse to fall back into your lap. I won’t ever open my legs for you again. You’ve already taken my children from me, and you’ve already stolen my honour - I will not let you keep it. I’ll keep on running forever if it means you’ll never touch me again.

She prepped herself to jump over a large ravine, body thin and small as she cleared the ten-foot-gap. As she landed, she heard another lye jump after her. Quickly, Grace turned, hacking up venom and spitting it into his face. It landed straight in his eye, and it sent his body off-kilter. What would have been a clean landing turned into an aimless plummet as he missed the edge of the cliff, tumbling into the gap below. If he hit the bottom, she didn’t stick around to hear it, her pace picked up immediately.

I’m so tired… I need to rest… I need to stop...

But she couldn’t stop. She ran until she was sure she’d turned in a circle; until the undergrowth she was hurtling through looked very much the same as it had half an hour ago; until the roar of water entered her ears and drowned out the sound of footfalls.

“Is she crazy?! She’s headed for No-Man’s Bluff!”

“Don’t stop! Either she runs into the woodland again or she jumps to her death.”

She ran towards the light of the moon, tiny form illuminated as she emerged from the trees. Ahead of her was a curious sight: a formation of rocky cliffs and narrow streams, all arranged in some sort of circular foundation. In the middle, a single jagged cliff jutted up and outwards, overlooking an eerie pit of nothing. It was hard to describe just how cavernous the darkness was. If there was a bottom to the gaping chasm, it wasn’t apparent.

Grace wasted no time, darting across uneven terrain with little difficulty, weaving between rocks and jumping over small rivers. Even moving as quickly as she was, she noticed that some of the gaps weren’t full of water; instead, a small amount laid along the bottom, spilling into other, much smaller crannies.

If I could somehow just slip inside of one and wait…

The footsteps behind her were getting slower. The unpleasant landscape made it difficult to place their feet without tripping, stumbling into rivers and slipping along smooth rock. The water had polished it over time; corroded it steadily until it was a composition quite reminiscent of ice.

“She’s getting away…!”

Nyx growled to herself, watching helplessly as Grace vanished behind a tall pillar of rock.

“She’s headed into the forest on the other side. Once we clear this bluff, it’ll be fine.” After a moment, she levelled Flit with a hard look, one of utmost sobriety. “You’d best catch her. Or you’re in trouble.” You didn’t get your name for nothing. Don’t you dare disappoint me now.

Grace paused for a moment, scanning her surroundings quickly. The roar of water so close to her drowned everything out, made it easier to think. I have to be quick, but I have some time. Hastily, she followed a crack in the ground, internally rejoicing as it widened. The further she walked, the further it opened, and she found a spot where she was able to squeeze herself through. Her body wriggled and writhed, getting wet on the way down, though eventually she was inside of the crevice. She squirmed in an effort to turn around, attempting to cover as much of herself in water as possible.

I want my scent masked as much as it can be. It’ll be bad if they find me down here. There’s nowhere for me to run. I can barely move.

When she was sure she’d done all she could, she waited with bated breath. She could only pray that they would assume she had darted into the forest. Why would she stay there anyway? As far as they were concerned, this was a stepping stone from point A to point B; a means of getting to a place much more eligible to hide in.

I can’t keep running. I’m exhausted. If I picked running into the forest, it wouldn’t have been long until my body gave up on me. I’m not in a good condition. Adrenaline can only do so much.

The stress of it all began to weigh on her. How did my life wind up like this? I know what I thought a few times while this was happening to me: that I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant escaping it… but I don’t want to die. I want to live. Hot tears gathered in her blackened eyes, and a paw went up to cover her mouth, caging the sobs inside. Not yet. I’ll die if they hear me.

She barely held back a gasp as Nyx passed over the crack she was lodged inside. Her ears strained to hear over the sound of water, only a few words audible.

… trail’s gone cold… didn’t see her… get to it… gone ahead…

She waited for what felt like years, staring blankly ahead of her until the sky began to change, until the sun began to rise, until the birdsong became audible above the rippling stream. Do I dare move? What if they’ve waited for me? What if they circle back and I wind up running straight into them?

But she knew that she couldn’t stay there

After a few minutes, Grace forced herself out of the hole, wriggling much like a worm through the narrow space until she was able to claw herself out. When she emerged, it was with a grunt of exhaustion, wet body collapsing forward onto the rock beneath her as her mind reeled.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

She didn’t get to choose whether the tears in her eyes welled up or not. They just did. Before she could even think to smother it, she was wailing into the silence, her cries filling the pit that sat mere metres away from her as she emptied her sorrows into the void space. Part of her felt uncontrollable; like she could get up and hurl herself headfirst into the darkness below, and she wouldn’t mind if she never reached the bottom. Thankfully ( or perhaps un-thankfully, depending on who was asked ), her rational side outweighed the primal desire to send herself plummeting to her death.

If I do that, that means my survival was for nothing. Why run from death only to kill myself?

Angrily, she dragged a paw across her face, ridding her eyes of tears. I won’t cry. I won’t cry ever again. I already did so much of that in that creed, and now I’m free. Without thinking, her claws sank into the place that Nyx had signed her, a congregation of pin-pricks by her neck, scraping over the teeth marks with vitriol. A stuttered gasp left her, one full of both pain and pride, blood mixing with the water that made her fur heavy.

It hurts… it hurts so bad but it hurts so good too. I don’t belong to you anymore. Even if I can never get rid of your mark on my own entirely, I can keep scratching at it until my self-made wounds overwrite your signature. I’ll craft my own meaning. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need an Alpha.

I don’t need an Alpha.

I DON’T N E E D AN ALPHA.

She headed east that foggy November morning, even though she’d never headed east in her life.

#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ oof fuck #god i hate what happened to her #but i ultimately decided on it because it gave me an opportunity to a) have a relationship with edgar be very important #and b) to delve into the SHITTY side of alphas. because. just because they're not common doesn't mean they don't exist #grace has had SHIT luck with alphas. until edgar

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