[P]  Fleeting Memories


6 y/o xlarge Female

Whispers called to her in the depths of the falling waters. Their voices echoed in the depths of her labyrinth mind. Brilliant violet eyes searched for their sources as the world around her shifted. Soft caressing illusion safety did pool around her limbs. The air around her began to form into a soft fog as it rolled around her. Their tendrils embraced her eggplant coat with a false attempt at security. Everything was always uncertain when the reality and illusions blended into one. 
Enormous paws pressed against the soft earth. She flexed her toes deeper into the soft spring mud. When she withdrew it the waters around it consumed what was left of her imprint. “Fitting.” She said, her voice sounded husky and unused. How long had it been since she had spoken into reality? Was her mind simply portraying the existence of what she wished for? She could never truly tell the difference. Perhaps that was why her mind always teetered on here and there.
She huffed at the fog that rolled around her. It always found its way to haunt her. When in reality she was merely haunting herself. It took far too much time to dive into the past trauma that plagued her in order to remember the sanity that she was born from. Instead the voices in the fog did taunt her mind into madness. There were ways to bring her back to the surface but she had lost those ways. However, the blood of her blood always knew how to call her back. It was unfortunate she had lost them all in her madness.
“Light the candle, remember the song, to find your way through the forgotten thorns.” She murmured, in and an attempt to remind her that the road she traveled wasn’t always upside down. Sometimes the truth of reality came crashing down on her in the guise of teeth and fury. Sometimes it came in smiles and manipulation. All the while someone always wished something from her heavy physique. Why have a monster that was unusable? Surly someone remembered what it was like to hold combat with a behemoth like her? All those broken promises and false queens and kings. They had never imagined that she would one day wear a twisted crown of bones and blood. She was the queen slater after all, or had they all forgotten her?

"Newt Speaks,"

Table @Centience



2 y/o xlarge Female
Octavia Blake

“Light the candle, remember the song, to find your way through the forgotten thorns.”

the sound of a husky voice found her audits, drawing her from her nap — which in all fairness she wasn't in that deep of a sleep anyway, when she did sleep in the dead of night she slept like she was dead. Nothing could wake her, immune to the worlds happenings, but this, her bright eyes which contrasted against a dark face slowly flickered open. Ears drawing atop her crown to try and catch the lyrics over the roar of the falls, listening for movement, or anything else that might follow the hum of words. She sighed then, reluctant to rise straining to hear any sound over the falls persistent static. Octavia remained where she was for quite some time, only staring blankly into the distance perhaps lazily searching for the source of the sound. Moments passed, lingering aimless silence before she finally decided she'd had enough waiting. The behemoth pushed herself up, taking the time to stretch rolling her massive shoulders before she drew from the shadows, the confines of the treeline in which she'd called home these last few weeks. 

Upon exiting her cove, stretching out her back as she moved, the spikes which line her rump shifting with her motion her gaze came to fall on the only source of the words. It was nothing but another beast, the first she'd seen, her sharp eyes cast over the other woman, breathing in her matching hues of plum and shadows. But where Octavia's fur grew darker, where she had black stripes cascading across her side, this womans color fell to lighter shades of grey and soot. "Well, this is the first i've seen of my...kind" she rumbled, large, daunting - amazonian. But this woman lacked something — Octavia's intimidating set of horns; and a plated nose to match. This one bore no mutations in fact. Her mind danced on the idea of colliding skulls with this one, was her size enough to protect her? Or would she quake beneath the impact? She wanted to know. 

The behemoth strode forward, invading the other womans space easily; assuming she did not pull away from her invasion of her bubble. Blackened nose reaching out to push her nose into the fur around the ruff of the other womans neck, wanting to breath in her scent. Who are you? She asked with body language alone.

Table by Centience. Art by marinated mermaid @ DA

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