menace to society

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She was restless with the way rebellion still called to her like a moth to a flame, to the way brotherhood and sisterhood cried her name. Marlene mourned and missed, waged an inner battle with herself of war and love, and knew that their loss would cut deep for the rest of her life.

When she closed her eyes, she saw him laying on the stone in front of her. She remembered the feel of the stone beneath her cheek as she lay with him as blood pooled around, as if magnetic to her as crimson melt porcelain. Her throat had not yet fully felt as if it were truly healed, and she was certain her voice may stay with a small rasp for eternity, a reminder of her screams.

Her friends, her wayward found family remained lost to her, and Marlene's loss remained gaping in her heart and chest both. Frustrated, the Rosewood stomped her paw down on the small cluster of flowers she was sat in front of, frowning as she lifted her paw up and the crumpled petals and stem stared back at her.

She was restless with the want of a fight, to scream and hit back at someone for the injustice of her life. Marlene's fire crackled and roared, but it burnt nothing in its wake. Nothing fed it, stoked it — only her memories. Marley scuffed away the crumpled flower and groaned, angling her head back and stretching her neck to stare at the sky. Blue, a mockery of wanting summer, and white clouds peered back at her.

Marley puffed her cheeks up, giving herself a shove to fall back against her haunches so her spine hit the grass.

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@Nagito traveled, and while ælfrǣd knew his companion would return — or so he hoped — the fox's departure was nevertheless felt.

winchester remained silent, but its king had gained headway on stone cairns set to mark a future road. many miles of greenery would have to be so etched, and rolling each large or midsized stone to its place had shoulders and spine bitten with ache mere hours in.

a better result was muscle building to the royal's trim frame, an understated masculinity.

he had gone down the nearest river, thought of as winterholme; king took long draught of water.

a woman lay ophelia in the flowers. he saw the movement of her breathing and was still, unnerved.

noble mien bid him approach. "hello, my lady. you've reached winchester." ælfrǣd did not stray so close. "might i be of assistance?" was this a spy of the high king? he must then be on guard.

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