Post by Sivoncé™ on Aug 28, 2008 17:31:01 GMT -5
She didn't really remember how she'd ended up at this place.
She'd meant to kill Rye. Not physically. But Rye as the world had known him. To turn the world against the honorable Sheeran warrior and turn him against the world. To continue in the pawsteps of Regulus and to continue his fued and his quest for the ultmate revenge against a father who had disowned her. To help in the complete deterioration of Fenrir's bloodline. To make it a bloodline of Regulus.
But Risika had let Rye go. Let him go and thrown herself back to Hellfire....right off of the sharp-fanged cliffs and into stone daggers. She'd laid there an hour before death had kissed her lids and set her to sleep. And what good had that done? Three weeks later she was back. Back into the world again. And so very much alive.
She could never escape Regulus now. He would find her.
And damn, when he does, he's going to be one pissed of son of a gun.
She hadn't even had time to look for Lustin the confusion before her uncle had snatched her away to the battle, as if Risika actually still cared about his petty little fued. As if she really still enjoyed seeing wolves she used to love, in another life, be torn apart.
She was not the Risika that had been born to Fenrir and Snow.
She was not the Risika that had succumbed to angst and depression in Silver Mist.
She was not the malicious killer of Blood Mist.
She was just Risika....Risika whoe loved Lust. Risika who would live out the rest of her days far from this place. Before Regulus could find her. Before Babylonia could find her. Before anyone would find her.
And if they did find her....before she found Lust....
Well, dying was bearable compared to leaving without Lust.
She could always restart.
She'd meant to kill Rye. Not physically. But Rye as the world had known him. To turn the world against the honorable Sheeran warrior and turn him against the world. To continue in the pawsteps of Regulus and to continue his fued and his quest for the ultmate revenge against a father who had disowned her. To help in the complete deterioration of Fenrir's bloodline. To make it a bloodline of Regulus.
But Risika had let Rye go. Let him go and thrown herself back to Hellfire....right off of the sharp-fanged cliffs and into stone daggers. She'd laid there an hour before death had kissed her lids and set her to sleep. And what good had that done? Three weeks later she was back. Back into the world again. And so very much alive.
She could never escape Regulus now. He would find her.
And damn, when he does, he's going to be one pissed of son of a gun.
She hadn't even had time to look for Lustin the confusion before her uncle had snatched her away to the battle, as if Risika actually still cared about his petty little fued. As if she really still enjoyed seeing wolves she used to love, in another life, be torn apart.
She was not the Risika that had been born to Fenrir and Snow.
She was not the Risika that had succumbed to angst and depression in Silver Mist.
She was not the malicious killer of Blood Mist.
She was just Risika....Risika whoe loved Lust. Risika who would live out the rest of her days far from this place. Before Regulus could find her. Before Babylonia could find her. Before anyone would find her.
And if they did find her....before she found Lust....
Well, dying was bearable compared to leaving without Lust.
She could always restart.
