what nightmares are made of [open]

[DAMASCA ANYA GRIFFIN]

Damasca was patrolling the edge of the town, trying to find her dinner...generally, it was whatever small creature happened to be unfortunate enough to cross her path. Wandering the edges was also a fine way to champion her cause to whatever Humanis might be returning to town. With her were her two guards, following a safe distance behind, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

The forest was good. The forest was safe. That was the mantra of the last Humani that Damasca had passed…and subsequently dismembered. Oh, don’t be quick to judge, she was an animal at heart and animals needed to eat. It was a weak Humani, anyways, and how was the species to continue if the weak were allowed to live and reproduce? In her defense, she hadn’t played with it the way her cat-like instinct had demanded, instead making death swift and merciful…if such a death could ever be deemed merciful. With the stronger, wittier ones, she used her meals as her entertainment as well, stalking them, letting them think they were safe, then reappearing. It was oh so delightful to play those games of cat and mouse and she found herself dreadfully disappointed in the end, despite the fact that she gained a meal from it. Some might say that it was counter intuitive, to kill off those of her species, but she strongly disagreed. The weak caused more harm than good and it was detrimental to let them survive. Perhaps it was a ruthless view of the world, but the world was what taught Damasca to be ruthless.

After her little meal, Damasca, as with any typical cat, thought it was an appropriate time to take a nap. She had little to worry about as far as being attacked went- she had her guards as per norm. It wasn’t as though she was paranoid- she knew she would have little problem with whatever came her way. It was more that she liked being able to sleep soundly without worrying about being bothered by some irritating Humani who thought to take her unofficial crown. Thus, after giving instructions to her guards to let no one pass, she curled up and started to sleep. While certainly human in appearance, it was when she curled up that her less than human assets became more noticeable. First was the white spotted fur that covered her back, followed down her legs, but just barely creeped around the front (not that one could see it when she was curled up as she was). The second was her tail…normally well tucked into whatever cloak she was wearing, while asleep, it always managed to find a way out. Her ears, well, for a while when she was trying her best to fit in, to be human, she would pull her hair up around them. Now they poked up, just a shade lighter than the almost white blond hair. Her fangs left barely noticeable indents on her now blood stained lips as she slept soundly.

Damasca’s guards, as per norm, kept their station. Quite the pair, they were, though Damasca (wrongly) thought them more talented in the brawn department than in the brains…they were quiet creatures, both cat-like themselves, one being a panther Humani and the other a lion. Unlike Damasca, they had not quite perfected the art of human speech and spoke in broken sentences when they were forced to. She saw this as a lack of intelligence and often wrote them off. She was quite lucky that they were still willing to stand by her, although that had more to do with a loyalty to the cause than any personal allegiance to their queen. Oh, they were both aware that she was a strong leader and that, if nothing else, she was a role model for the others, with her ability to communicate and sheer force of will. Her personality, however, left much to be desired and they often joked that if she was to have cubs, she would likely abandon them, she had so little warmth to her. There were a few who were frightened by her coldness. Her lack of humanity was surprising, even for her species.

The sound of a twig cracking roused Damasca from her slumber into full alertness as she turned about, her lips twitching downwards into a frown as the hair down her back visibly stood up. Her two guards moved closer to her looking around. Clear blue eyes took in her surroundings, but found nothing out of place, which was quite disturbing…she would send her guards out, but was far more comfortable with the two of them close by her side for there was power in numbers if whatever was out there had devious intent. Then again, she could be getting all worked up over a squirrel. She lifted her nose a touch, trying to catch the scent of whatever was there…there were no unfamiliar scents. Perhaps it had just been the wind knocking a twig from a tree? She was still uneasy about the whole situation. She licked her lips as she stood up slowly, her back to the massive tree behind her as she peered around, prepared for whatever might be out there.

[HURRICANE EVE KIRST]

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Instinct was typical of animals. It was expected. It was surprising to see animals think on their own, like a human might. However, when you were half animal and half human, you were even more unpredictable than a wild beast. You could retort with a witty comment or simply mangle their body. It was almost like a game of Russian roulette with the humani.

Hurricane was no exception to the rule. She wasn't quite as feral as most of the humani, but was violent when she needed to be. Her speech wasn't perfect, either, but it was certainly far more advanced than some of her comrades. She could speak in clear, understandable sentences, at the very least.

Her instinct had driven her to attack one of the guards at Animos. He had bared his teeth at her, Hurricane swore up and down. After that, she sort of blacked out as she leapt upon him. The guard that pulled her off of the other one stated firmly that she had bitten the sentinel's ear, almost tearing it completely from his cranium. She had also left a colossal gash over his eye from her claws attempting to have some kind of grip on him. Basically, Hurricane had mauled the guard for simply giving her a wrong look.

The humani who ripped her from her victim had led her out of the city, with much ado and growling on her part. He was kind enough to her, but Hurricane certainly didn't return the favor. She burrowed her claws into his skin, tried to bite his fingers, and even tried to headbutt him. All the while, he countered her, putting her in her place. He apparently knew how to deal with humani like her.

Now, she was outside the gates of Animos, thrown out by a single guard. Her face showed her obvious displeasure with furrowed brows, a wrinkled nose, a flicker of hate in her eyes along with clenched fists. The black-tipped cat ears of hers were laid flat backwards, which was a sign of frustration. And also, her white, pitch-spotted tail was whipping from left to right, like a cobra with a twitch.

Hurricane dropped to all fours to scent the air near the ground. The animals close to the earth were easier to smell when you actually got on their level. Since she had nothing better to do, she supposed she would hunt. If she couldn't kill a guard, then why not a poor, defenseless animal?

She curled back her lip, exposing her very large, very pointy incisors and various other teeth. Her tongue withdrew as she inhaled, breathing in the odors of the creatures around her. There were a few prey scents, but there were also three others that smelled nothing like food; they smelled like her, like a humani. This made her even angrier.

Hurricane returned to her two hind legs with little effort before starting in the direction of the humanis' scents. Slowly, she stalked their signals, trying her best to lay low and stay silent. Her footfalls were cautiously placed and they were utterly soundless. Her breathing - even her heartbeat - had become shallow, choking on every inhale and exhale. The blood inside her had chilled, coming to a halt so she could focus completely on the matter at hand instead of regulating her body functions.

The icy blue eyes in her head almost popped out of their sockets when the cracking of a twig underfoot penetrated her ear drums. What a clumsy mistake. Immediately, her heart raced and the adrenaline flooded her veins. She fled behind a tree, staring intently at the bark, and then up at its branches. Hurricane placed her palms against the timber and sunk her talons into it with little difficulty. Once she had a hold on it, she placed her feet against the bark and propeled herself up far enough to grab onto a low branch with her hands. Luckily, she was able to clamber higher up the tree by climbing the branches. Hurricane made it to about mid-length up the tree until she could go no further. She had spotted the humanis she was after, and at that time, she was thankful that she had escaped when she did. Hurricane was wary of Damasca's status and also of her guards'. There was no way that she was coming down unless Damasca came up or left.

Hopefully, that she-devil hadn't heard her or was simply not paying her any heed. Hurricane was in no hurry to get her pride wounded - or worse, be mortally wounded. However, if her fight or flight instincts reacted, she would probably fight just because of how stubborn she was. There was no dodging the fact that she was bull-headed. Unfortunately for her, it got her into a lot of trouble, like back in Animos. Hurricane was always right, no matter what, and she would be prostrate on the ground before she ever admitted she wasn't. As of right now, though, she would much rather be dealing with the watchers of Animos than being up a tree with Damasca at the bottom. Be chastised or be ripped to shreds? It certainly wasn't a difficult decision.

[/blockquote]

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TAG damasca
WORDS 881
NOTES fraidy cat lol
TUNES heaven help us , my chemical romance.
CREDIT template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0[/center]

[DAMASCA ANYA GRIFFIN]

Frustration was causing the more animalistic side of Damasca to rear its ugly head. Rather than simply patrolling the area, casually strolling around to find the source of the noise, she was practically stalking, her tail curling casually behind her as she lifted her nose, delicately taking in the scents of the air. If there was one thing that Damasca had not been blessed with, as a humani, it was a sense of smell. It certainly surpassed that of most humans, but was not comparable to that of other humani. While her unusual clarity of thought generally made up for this, among other shortcomings, it made situations such as the current one infinitely more frustrating. As her guards continued off in one direction, she went in the other, her eyes trained on the ground, looking for prints, tufts of hair, for anything at all that might lead to whoever it was that had intruded on her space.

As irritation continued to sink in, to take over, the human, rational side of Damasca slowly faded, succumbing completely to the animal, who wanted to hunt, to rip, to shred, to kill. Sense of reason and what little sense of empathy she might have had were nearly non-existent now as she carefully tracked whomever it was that had disturbed her rest. The sheer stupidity of the action was, in Damasca’s eyes, cause enough to remove them from the gene pool. While ruthless at the best of times, when interrupted from a cat nap, she was less than pleasant and certainly not forgiving.

As Damasca moved under a tree, the pungent scent of fresh blood reached her nose. It wasn’t animal blood- one could pick out the difference between animal blood and humani blood quite easily. She curled back her lips, sharp canines fully revealed as she peered around, blinking once, then twice when she realized that she could see nothing on the ground, no poor soul straying through the forest. She was more than prepared to continue on her way when she caught sight of the scratch marks at the base of the tree. Her gaze followed the trail upwards until she caught sight of a humani, high up in the tree, a mere silhouette against the sky.

Now, what to do, what to do? There were several courses of action that could be followed in a situation such as this. She could always simply climb up the tree and deal with the problem quickly. It would be a wonderful solution had Damasca been pressed for time, but she wasn’t. She could always ignore the humani- whoever was up there obviously wasn’t looking to cause any problems and might not have meant to disturbed Damasca’s nap. Nonetheless, she had, and that was enough for Damasca to dismiss the option of ignoring the problem entirely. That left one final option- toying with the individual, playing with them, maybe frightening them? It would give her time to decide whether or not she actually felt like dismembering something. After all, she had just finished off another unfortunate humani- was twice in one day entirely necessary? Probably not, but Damasca wasn’t quite ready to make a merciful decision.

Damasca rounded the bottom of the tree, her gaze intently trained upon the Humani huddled up in the branches. Once, twice, her long, catlike tongue edged out to smooth across her lips before disappearing again. She ran a single claw along the bark, leaving a clear line around the trunk of the tree, tracing over it again and again as she continually circled. The intention, of course, was to cause fear. Everything was oh so much more delightful when she could practically feel the other individual’s heart pumping, could smell the adrenaline in the air. After a minute or so of circling around, Damasca stopped, looked down as though examining her claws, the one now well sharpened by its travels around the tree.

Damasca now turned her gaze up to her ‘prey’, boredom the prevalent emotion in her blue eyes now that her primary sense of irritation at being woken up had disappeared. A slow, catlike smile stretched across her face. It was hardly pleasant, one that most would not be comfortable with receiving. ”M’dear, what exactly are you doing stuck up in a tree?” While her voice carried up easily, it came out more as a purr than anything else, a distinct, but not easily placed accent lacing the words, making the consonants sharper, the vowels more drawn out, a slight purring roll accenting each ‘r’ as it came out.

It was difficult to examine Hurricane from her position at the bottom of the tree, but she had no desire to make the effort of climbing at the moment. She had, after all, been napping and supposed that climbing a tree immediately following a nap would completely negate the effects of the rest. Her tail twitched indecisively before she called up once again. ”Do come down and play, we’ll have a jolly good time,” the grin of a Cheshire cat once again crossed her face as she brought her now sharpened claw up to her chest and made an x shape over her heart, ”Cross my heart, I’m a . . . woman of my word.” Granted, woman was hardly an appropriate word for Damasca. Creature, perhaps, even cat would suit her better. But not woman.

[HURRICANE EVE KIRST]

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Hurricane situated her footing on the branch, balancing herself without holding onto the trunk of the tree. She wasn't afraid of falling - she was half cat, for Elejen's sake - but she was frightened of meeting her demise at the hands of Damasca. She wasn't going to die that easily and such a petty death. Hurricane would dishonor both her name and herself if she did.

The humani's eyes watched Damasca's every step as she approached the tree. They were filled with nothing but dread and spite for the unofficial queen, but Hurricane wasn't about to let her know. Instead, she simply held her ground, attempting to keep her composure in the presence of Damasca. After all, confidence was all that mattered in this world. If you could act though, then, more than likely, no one would mess with you.

Hurricane grabbed then branch with her hands, strengthening her grip as she stooped over to look down upon Damasca. From there, her lips drew back in a defensive snarl at her. The feline fangs in her mouth flashed momentarily and then swiftly withdrew behind her lips. She certainly had some large teeth, but was that enough to dissuade Damasca? Surely not.

"If I come down," began the leopard humani, "you'll regret it." Hurricane emitted a venomous hiss - a racuous one, at that. Her audits piqued for one moment, then folded backwards, almost completely flat. Her tail twitched one way, then the other in a sort of spontaneous motion. All in all, Hurricane was not happy about her situation, and she was going to let Damasca know.

The humani peered down at the dangerous queen below, but not without another snarl at her. Despite Hurricane's discomfort, she refused to go without a fight. She would not be bested by fear. Fear was for weaklings and children. And Hurricane was neither of those tings.

Hurricane continued to sneer and growl at Damasca through much grit. However, what seemed to slip her mind was the grip she had on the branch. Her claws were gradually failing her; they became unhinged and limp. Soon enough, her hold on the tree was nought but a memory, and Hurricane was scrambling to grasp onto it again. In her flurry of fret, her foot budged ever so slightly, and that then caused the whole situation to come tumbling down.

With the movement of her foot, Hurricane lost all control of her balance, and with that lack of control, she went spiraling down to the ground. It was quite a ways to the bottom, but with her cat-like senses, she was able to flip herself over and land on her feet. The shock of falling out of a tree, however, was enough to stun her. She stood, dazed for a few moments, before realizing that she was now on Damasca's level.

Immediately, she turned to face Damasca, and Hurricane's ears were again flattened and compressed. She began to slowly back step away from the other humani. However, Hurricane never let down her guard. To let down her guard would mean certain death, she knew this. She had seen it many times. Her hands were in front of her, with claws outstretched and armed. Hurricane also bared her fangs, issuing a caveat to Damasca every so often with a small hiss or growl. She continued to back away, though, in hopes of somehow escaping. If she found the opportunity, she would certainly bolt into Animos, even if she had to fight off a few guards. It was worth it to get away from Damasca. Fending off the god of death would be worth it just to get away from the queen of the humani.

[/blockquote]

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TAG damasca
WORDS 625
NOTES surprise :D
TUNES heaven help us , my chemical romance.
CREDIT template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0[/center]

[DAMASCA ANYA GRIFFIN]

My, what a fierce little kitten this was, stuck in the tree. Damasca responded to the vicious show with a patronizing half smile as she studied her nails. It was the kitty’s pretty little words, however, that caused irritation to flicker across the queen’s face. Irritation was a dangerous emotion to set off in one so feral as Damasca. She had absolutely no qualms about killing off the dear girl. It would be a shame, as Hurricane seemed quite vicious and could certainly be an asset if she was not quite so agitating. Where the girl in the tree was responding as any cornered animal might, Damasca continued to act as the predator she was, occasionally circling the tree, occasionally stopping. ”M’dear, I’ve dealt with bigger cats than you, you might want to reconsider the threats,” she practically purred as she brushed up against the tree. She noted the scent of discomfort, a touch of fear perhaps? The combination was never a good one- the Humani was bound to make a mistake if she didn’t manage to control herself. Damasca resisted the overwhelming urge to hiss back, reminding herself that she wasn’t some small house cat- she was far closer to a leopard, a huntress, a beast that didn’t spit and hiss like a common pet.

The snarling, the hissing, the show going on in the tree above, it all was becoming quite boring and the queen found that her patience was wearing thin. This would be an easy process if Hurricane had just come down the tree- their encounter would, at worst, be little more than a quick talking to, then sending the girl on her way. Then again, Damasca did have a reputation. She wasn’t exactly predictable- she could kill just as easily as she could be kind. If she had more human sense, perhaps she would have been able to understand exactly why Hurricane was reluctant to leave what she considered a safe perch in the tree.

Bored eyes suddenly sparked with interest as she heard the scrambling of claws against bark. Ah, just the moment she had been waiting for, the kitten was losing her composure. She simply watched as Hurricane’s body came crashing towards the ground and righted itself as she made contact. If Damasca had been in a mood to kill, this would have been the perfect moment, while Hurricane was still disoriented. A few well chosen strikes, done. And if not, as soon as her guards heard the commotion, they would be on their way to finish the job. Rather than immediately attacking Hurricane, however, Damasca watched her, amusement flickering across ice blue eyes.

”My, what a sweet kitten you are,” Damasca stated sarcastically, the smile never faltering from her face, sharp fangs quite noticeable, put on display, but not in the most threatening manner Damasca could manage. She wanted to play, perhaps not a game of cat and mouse as per norm, but a game nonetheless. The lack of composure that Hurricane displayed was entertaining, although it would become old quite quickly. ”I suppose you greet everyone in a similar way? Or am I special? One would think that more respect would be deferred to one of my stature, but perhaps I am sadly mistaken…” While no longer in a murderous mood, Damsca was hardly above putting a Humani in her place. She had worked hard to earn this position and it ought to be honored, rather than hissed at. She was the alpha, the dominant, and Hurricane was a young chit. To let the other one threaten her in such a way was quite the insult.

[HURRICANE EVE KIRST]

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Hurricane was the bigger Humani here. Her snow leopard breed was known for its thickness and adaptability. She knew how to be stubborn and just as mold-able in situations. Never budge, never back down. If you gave up, then you had nothing. You didn't win the fight nor did you die with honor. Hurricane wasn't a cheap fighter, and she was very proud, so losing or giving up were not two of her options.

Though she had fallen rather ungracefully from a tree, Hurricane made herself seem unaware of her tumble. Her cheeks didn't show a trace of embarrassment. Showing any sort of emotion other than anger would only be exposing her weaknesses. And, she certainly didn't need that, as she was already down one peg.

Hurricane watched Damasca anxiously, anticipating her strikes, but even as she watched her, she was doing nothing. She wouldn't even circle Hurricane. She was just spouting off to her. "There's nothing special about you, save for your acrid tongue," she spat at her with her own acrid tongue. "I won't have any Humani talk down to me, not even you." With that, Hurricane lunged at her, fangs bared and gleaming. She tried for her neck, for the jugular vein, like any normal animal would do. It was the largest and, ironically, the most vulnerable.

Though Hurricane was unsure of how this would play out, she wasn't going to let Damasca think that she was puny and weak, because she wasn't. She had fought most of her life for what she wanted, just like her parents. She was so slender because her diet was fairly small and she was often running about or climbing trees. Come to think of it, Hurricane couldn't think of a time she had ever seen a meaty Humani. There were certainly fatties of other races, though, that was for sure.

Even if Hurricane died here, today, on this very soil, she could say that she didn't take any back-sass from the queen of the Humani. She may seem foolish to some, but at least she would feel bold before--wait, what was she saying? She wasn't going to die. Damasca couldn't best her. Hurricane was just as bloodthirsty as she was, and just as skilled a fighter. So, Damasca should be thrilled that she could find someone willing to go toe-to-toe with her and be a challenge. How often was it that she actually had to battle for her victory? Rarely. Hurricane had heard stories of Damasca, and though she was frightened of her before, she refused to be now.

If Hurricane's strike was not obvious, then perhaps she could get away with it, but Damasca had probably been grappling with Humanis longer than her and long enough to know that the first strike was always for the neck. If she did know that, then, she had already thought ahead of Hurricane, and was probably going to counterattack. Lovely.

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TAG damasca
WORDS 507
NOTES bah short /:
TUNES heaven help us , my chemical romance.
CREDIT template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0[/center]