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PRP a dance with life

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the little nightmare
Northfall (Seer)
Statistics
Species
Wolf

Sex
Female (Female)

Age
3 years (5/30/2022)

Height
Average

Weight
Average

Build
Average

Eyes
Amethyst

Fur
Black, brown, gold, white

Scent
smoke • haunted house • decay

Oddities
Ear tufts

Mark of Mythris
Idle motes of light

Writer

Posts

Threads

Rating
3L - 2S - 3V
Gore, Strong Violence, Substance Abuse

• Deadpan • Morbid • Macabre • Independent • Analytical • Inventive •
#2
 
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[Image: 16303161?1765670197]

Sreda did not enjoy the daylight or the sun. She did not praise the open fields or the flowers. Why? Well ... sunlight faded. And the flowers would wilt. Some things would melt and disappear, and yet there were things ... there were beings ... that remained. Some relationships lasted a season. But some lasted a lifetime.

And as Sreda crested the den into the light of day, facing an element she so previously despised ... she knew. She knew that she would chase this 'being'. The being that remained: Her warrior. Her Queen.

Her Wardruna.

Despite what anyone would surmise, it felt ... normal. The two had grown up together. They had shared cultures. Shared dreams. Shared lives from across the universe. There was nothing in their childhood but distance that kept them apart (that and their intermittent infatuation with men, of course). Eventually, they succumbed to one another.

And that was why Sreda neared the flower fields.

Purple. Their favorite color.

And there, in proximity, was Wardruna — The Queen Viking, enjoying the fruits of the sun's labors. Wardruna was grace ... she was beauty ... she was ... absolutely demolishing those flowers with her broad shoulders.

Sreda's brow would twist upward, her frame moving forward with stalwart grace.

And for once ... for the first time ... Sreda said ...

Nothing.

The witch would near her counterpart, silence as her vessel as she pressed her own narrow shoulders into the blossoming fields. Sreda would roll upward, onto her back, twisting herself with an experted angle toward Wardruna in hopes of 'accidentally' touching skin.

But nothing Sreda did was accidental.

Her gaze would twist, upside-down and full of intent, locking onto Wardruna's own. Is this another ritual I was unaware of?" Their eyes met as Sreda pretended not to be as playful as she was.

[Image: dg9r9iv-ef1e32a4-b5fc-454a-8201-de53cca1...V8lCO39ptc]
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Messages In This Thread
a dance with life - by Wardruna - 7/10/2026, 8:19 PM
RE: a dance with life - by Sreda - 7/22/2026, 10:56 PM

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