BURN
BRIGHT
BRIGHT
When she wakes from her regular noon nap, alone and angry, Ninazu stays curled in the blanket for a long moment. She stares at her paw, clenching and unclenching her claws. It is a game she plays with herself, a rhythm she taps out. Can she remember all the faces she’s tortured? Can she remember all the faces of those that hurt her?
The lioness stirs only once the rage tears itself out of cold apathy. Flames lick down her face, taking substance where a male lion’s mane would be. If she were born male, perhaps she wouldn’t have suffered as much as she had. Her tail flicks the floor, the tip igniting and sparking.
Rage is an illusion, Ninazu knows all too well. All forms of anger are energy in its purest form, with no easy outlet.
She breathes, noticing the bubbling frustration. Rising. As it so often does, these days. Everything the lioness suffered flashes through her mind’s eye; she is used to the mental pain. But the dreams don’t stop. She sees them, over and over, stuffed in the hours where her body relaxes enough to close her eyes.
She rises to her paws. The blankets and skins fall off her shoulders, Stryker’s smell with them. He loves her. She doesn’t know why. Ninazu’s silent mind contemplates, but she doesn’t understand why many of these things others care about… matter. How jaded she is! How much brutality can one person inhale before growing bored of it all? She hit that number long ago.
The lioness pauses before leaving their makeshift home, glancing at the serval body in the corner. Her birth body. A thing. Why has she bothered with it, for this long? Keeping it around. Her claws poke out, she imagines killing and eating the damned thing, get rid of every trace of it. Turn the skin into a soft blanket.
She turns away and leaves it alone, flame-tipped tail flicking, flicking, flicking.
She saunters onto the beach. Her earth manipulation powers activate with each step, collecting the sand underneath her to keep her paws from sinking in. When her paws rise from the sand, not a single grain sticks to her pawpads or fur. This looks strange, on the beach, when she leaves a trail of impossibly perfect pawprints behind her.
But she will not stay on the beach for long. Like clockwork, Ninazu rises from her noon nap and walks into the surviving forestry of the island. She will pick a tree, appearing at random, to sit under. There she will remain, for hours until sunset begins, meditating. Occasionally, she will forage for a psychedelic mushroom before selecting the evening's tree.
Today, she considers… not meditating. Yet she will meditate, anyway; the days when she shouldn’t are the days when she needs it the most. If someone doesn’t interrupt her, that is.
The lioness stirs only once the rage tears itself out of cold apathy. Flames lick down her face, taking substance where a male lion’s mane would be. If she were born male, perhaps she wouldn’t have suffered as much as she had. Her tail flicks the floor, the tip igniting and sparking.
Rage is an illusion, Ninazu knows all too well. All forms of anger are energy in its purest form, with no easy outlet.
She breathes, noticing the bubbling frustration. Rising. As it so often does, these days. Everything the lioness suffered flashes through her mind’s eye; she is used to the mental pain. But the dreams don’t stop. She sees them, over and over, stuffed in the hours where her body relaxes enough to close her eyes.
She rises to her paws. The blankets and skins fall off her shoulders, Stryker’s smell with them. He loves her. She doesn’t know why. Ninazu’s silent mind contemplates, but she doesn’t understand why many of these things others care about… matter. How jaded she is! How much brutality can one person inhale before growing bored of it all? She hit that number long ago.
The lioness pauses before leaving their makeshift home, glancing at the serval body in the corner. Her birth body. A thing. Why has she bothered with it, for this long? Keeping it around. Her claws poke out, she imagines killing and eating the damned thing, get rid of every trace of it. Turn the skin into a soft blanket.
She turns away and leaves it alone, flame-tipped tail flicking, flicking, flicking.
She saunters onto the beach. Her earth manipulation powers activate with each step, collecting the sand underneath her to keep her paws from sinking in. When her paws rise from the sand, not a single grain sticks to her pawpads or fur. This looks strange, on the beach, when she leaves a trail of impossibly perfect pawprints behind her.
But she will not stay on the beach for long. Like clockwork, Ninazu rises from her noon nap and walks into the surviving forestry of the island. She will pick a tree, appearing at random, to sit under. There she will remain, for hours until sunset begins, meditating. Occasionally, she will forage for a psychedelic mushroom before selecting the evening's tree.
Today, she considers… not meditating. Yet she will meditate, anyway; the days when she shouldn’t are the days when she needs it the most. If someone doesn’t interrupt her, that is.
© MADI
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｢ BURN IT FUCKING DOWN ｣[div style="width:360px;font-size:8pt;line-height:1.2;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:2px;margin-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify"]Back from the dead to tell you that I’m alive / Killed the old way but I survived / Fuck the blueprint, I redesign / Death or exile, you decide / Tell ’em all that I made my name / Tell ’em all that I paved my way / Found the fear then went face to face / Now it’s mine to send up in flames / THIS RIGHT HERE IS AS FAR AS YOU GO ! | TAGS & PLAYLIST [color=transparent]-
![[Image: 47407915_RucwlSELKxeGt9A.png]](https://f2.toyhou.se/file/f2-toyhou-se/images/47407915_RucwlSELKxeGt9A.png)
[div style="font-size:20pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;font-family:impact;padding:8px;letter-spacing:1.2px"]｢ THIS IS WHERE I LOSE CONTROL ｣
