Andarin: The Mountains: To Alcatraz; --

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

Yes? the wind answers for her. For her part, Fenrisulfr just smiles – a baring of teeth that is more wolflike (and stereotypical) than she’d like.

There’s something quite invigorating in having the shadows of the world around her; and whenever she closes her eyes, she can feel them, thrumming elusively in her mind – all the shadows for a range she can’t even understand, all delicious and beckoning in their own strange voices.

She had no minions; she has been one, once upon a time in a land far far away (not really); but she has her shadows and the pleasure that is walking in them.

Compared to that…

Let them keep their slavery. She has her private shade of darkness.

The storm – her storm, her winter – dissolves into a formless haze of whites and grays.

And shadows, of course.

There. I don’t think we’ll be disturbed here.

The scent of blood, she thinks while watching him – and wondering idly why he was here at all – shouldn’t be this alluring. It’s not polite to lick complete strangers because you – for some Pavlovian reason – developed a taste for blood in the first weeks of your life.

Well, she hums, a sound deep in her throat – voiceless, as she had none, rattling off her larynx and making the throat-scars dance. Fire away, babylove.

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