08-01-2018, 06:25 PM
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WAIT FOR ME HEAVEN
(i'm here 'til i die)
[/td][/tr][/table](i'm here 'til i die)
"Well, I'll be fucking damned." Not that she isn't, already.
It's been - how long? - since she last saw Anima, the myth herself. She can remember far too many fond memories between them in their old home, and a handful of distasteful ones that she'd rather forget (she's never really forgiven Fenrir for making her lose control). Months? Years? Time has become so fluid ever since she left the Old Lands that she's long since stopped counting the days that pass - after all, what's a time limit to an immortal soul? She's lived for, perhaps, far too long than she should be allowed, and yet still she stands with her chin up and her chest out. Proud. Perhaps the gods did her something good, after all.
A voice tells her that she's being awfully unfair. Talia apologizes to Ghil and goes on her merry way.
"Last I saw you, you weren't doing too well," she murmurs, remembering when they had last met in the Old Lands - Anima hadn't recognized her there, but Talia still hopes that her friend would remember. While she's changed bodies since, her voice is clear and certain and familiar, undoubtedly, to someone she'd once called a good friend.
The hellhound pads closer, wings furrowing before sitting still on either side. From underneath her chin, two amber eyes peek out almost curiously - the pygmy owl recognizes her too but has never learned to speak, anyway, so it simply lets outs a soft trill in greeting before hiding again. "Let me ask the question I did before. Are you Anima?" She hopes, this time, that she would agree. She misses her friend, after all. She misses having a friend at all.
It's been - how long? - since she last saw Anima, the myth herself. She can remember far too many fond memories between them in their old home, and a handful of distasteful ones that she'd rather forget (she's never really forgiven Fenrir for making her lose control). Months? Years? Time has become so fluid ever since she left the Old Lands that she's long since stopped counting the days that pass - after all, what's a time limit to an immortal soul? She's lived for, perhaps, far too long than she should be allowed, and yet still she stands with her chin up and her chest out. Proud. Perhaps the gods did her something good, after all.
A voice tells her that she's being awfully unfair. Talia apologizes to Ghil and goes on her merry way.
"Last I saw you, you weren't doing too well," she murmurs, remembering when they had last met in the Old Lands - Anima hadn't recognized her there, but Talia still hopes that her friend would remember. While she's changed bodies since, her voice is clear and certain and familiar, undoubtedly, to someone she'd once called a good friend.
The hellhound pads closer, wings furrowing before sitting still on either side. From underneath her chin, two amber eyes peek out almost curiously - the pygmy owl recognizes her too but has never learned to speak, anyway, so it simply lets outs a soft trill in greeting before hiding again. "Let me ask the question I did before. Are you Anima?" She hopes, this time, that she would agree. She misses her friend, after all. She misses having a friend at all.
TALIA PENDRAGON — HELLHOUND COUNTERPART — TANGLEWOOD ROGUE — [color=#ac9488]TAGS