(living of course never was the easiest thing, some could give up without even trying. texas for a time had done similar in how she moved through the motions, life was nothing she enjoyed. that she faded fast and felt almost as if nothing might ever drag her out of that pit. then eventually, texas found herself thinking that wasn't what she ever wished for. to die that easily when she began to find her way once again and rebuild. but, rebuilding could be another hardship. with or without how her life's direction changed; she found it to be one of the hardest moments she's ever experienced. going from living corpse to back to a girl that had lost more than she'd ever talk about.
as that title she was given, her past was and still is falling under a single word (omertosa) in everything that happened. texas isn't thinking about it, what she thinks more about is that there are some things that she should have done better. those were regrets, she would always carry them. yet here they are, alone. they aren't bound by their dni, not even by the fact rhodes island contracted them. all they're here as is two wolves. two wolves that nobody knows the history of, two wolves who have been picked apart cleanly by the system they were once part of. they do not belong here, perhaps, not any further than they did in terra. likely not ever would they find a true home even if texas did make friends. cellinia is good at it, but that didn't mean she's the greatest of friends and people.
her demeanor leaves much to be desired, though she pauses her thoughts and snarls back at the mockery she's met with. the two of them would never know if cellinia doesn't try now, won't they? she didn't say that just to sound "cool", not even to sound like she's a big shot of sorts. texas intends to try. that's all she can do.
that's all she has to do, with or without a weapon in her hands.)
I'm hardly being delusional, despite what you think.
(a hiss, the cloth and fabric rips easily, the buttons popping off at least to reveal familiar (that one lappland gave her along her side and abdomen in particular) and not so familiar scars once her dress shirt falls to the floor with accessories. maybe even signs of another newer scar in the shape of talons along her right arm. those were healing from an event in october, but it must have been bad if a winged clawbeast got its hands on her.
her bra is exposed too, black and sitting pretty with patterns in the fabric whenever texas reaches to undo her belt. annoying clothes, but she's almost freed of them. almost free as the belt buckle comes undone and the sound of her zipper coming down fills the air. she's in a hurry to undress all the same.
they're likely never bound to change in some ways, but they're both culprits of being hypocrites about their own ideas. their own thoughts and more.)
no subject
as that title she was given, her past was and still is falling under a single word (omertosa) in everything that happened. texas isn't thinking about it, what she thinks more about is that there are some things that she should have done better. those were regrets, she would always carry them. yet here they are, alone. they aren't bound by their dni, not even by the fact rhodes island contracted them. all they're here as is two wolves. two wolves that nobody knows the history of, two wolves who have been picked apart cleanly by the system they were once part of. they do not belong here, perhaps, not any further than they did in terra. likely not ever would they find a true home even if texas did make friends. cellinia is good at it, but that didn't mean she's the greatest of friends and people.
her demeanor leaves much to be desired, though she pauses her thoughts and snarls back at the mockery she's met with. the two of them would never know if cellinia doesn't try now, won't they? she didn't say that just to sound "cool", not even to sound like she's a big shot of sorts. texas intends to try. that's all she can do.
that's all she has to do, with or without a weapon in her hands.)
I'm hardly being delusional, despite what you think.
(a hiss, the cloth and fabric rips easily, the buttons popping off at least to reveal familiar (that one lappland gave her along her side and abdomen in particular) and not so familiar scars once her dress shirt falls to the floor with accessories. maybe even signs of another newer scar in the shape of talons along her right arm. those were healing from an event in october, but it must have been bad if a winged clawbeast got its hands on her.
her bra is exposed too, black and sitting pretty with patterns in the fabric whenever texas reaches to undo her belt. annoying clothes, but she's almost freed of them. almost free as the belt buckle comes undone and the sound of her zipper coming down fills the air. she's in a hurry to undress all the same.
they're likely never bound to change in some ways, but they're both culprits of being hypocrites about their own ideas. their own thoughts and more.)