The harsh red rock, eroded by time and weather crumbled in places as she began her ascent up the narrow and steep path. She moved silently, her head high, as she surveyed the land before her- the path, seemed worn by others, as she would up and up and up, enjoying the winter sun. And the break, mostly the break. Away from the pride, away from the cubs, away from all that seemed to pulling her in opposite directions lately- until she was so confused about which way was even up.

Her paws still knew the way and so they carried her, up and up- past patches of stubborn grass, plants that somehow refused to die even when the conditions around them did not favor life. She wondered if plants were capable of thought, if they were able to somehow... defy the odds they could see stacked against them.

She did not know, and so she climbed until she reached the top of the small mountain, her breath coming in soft pants- as she laid on the flat rock. She looked down, noting that a fall from here, likely wouldn't kill her, but it would hurt like hell- the ledges jut out- they'd slow a fall, and perhaps provide somewhere for one to land...

Well, that was rather negative.

She shook her head, and laid down, surveying the land from where she rested- her eyes bright as she stared out across the badlands, just appreciating the view.

@Sersie

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Sersie is a predator.

Every fiber of her being is molded and shaped by it. The padded paws that carry the powerful frame of a warrior are nearly silent. The instinct to hunt draws her in, deeper into the depths of Amaryllis. It is a finely crafted suit she wears, an armor so strong that neither words nor physical ailment can truly penetrate it. A fabrication of twisted, horrific reality. A fragment, a fracture.
The words of that fool ran through her mind, like an itch. Ticking, ticking, ticking in the recesses of her mind and--AUGH--sersie couldn't get it to stop! A shake of the head, a swat at the face, she needs to FOCUS dammit!

It's a pretty picture isn't it? How trauma can taint something so beautiful? She twists and turns in her circle, muttering things to herself in an attempt to refocus on what her true quarry was. Gods, it had been a lifetime since the name of her sister graced her ears. Longer still that it had dropped from her tongue like sweet honey.

It was bitter, cold lead now. The acrid taste of it nearly makes her gag. But she persists, as she always does, and catches the faint scent of something on the wind. It's familiar and unfamiliar, enticing her to simply search. But this is in haste, as if not moving at the pace she chose would somehow negate any chance of meeting the source.

It couldn't be, could it? After all these fucking years....

It couldn't....

But it was!

The lioness skids to a halt in the red dust of the trail, good eye wide in utter disbelief--if only for a moment. She stands there, frozen. @Ghyslaine was right there, in the flesh not but a few lengths away. She looked just like she remembered: beautiful , elegant, graceful....

And it turns to anger in her chest. How fucking dare she. How fucking dare she still be the golden girl. Her claws are digging into the sands now, everything in sersie is screaming for her to pounce and rip the eldest sister apart. But she reigns it in, she pushes it down and cooks it with pressure.

not yet

What begins the approach is a calm, collected, dangerous woman. Little is there to betray her true intentions, aside from perhaps the occasional flex of her muscles. Eyes half lidded in quiet judgement, she begins to inch closer, closer, closer still--and then:

".....And here I thought that woman in the passage was full of shit" she says, moving to come astride her so called sister, gaze all but mimicking that of her eldest sibming--gazing bored out at a barren landscape. It had been many years since nature had captivated her intrigued. Her mids eye envisioned a simple shove, a push, and the form of her eldest sibling twisting head over heels to the dirt below. A twitch of a smile dared form at the thought.

code by corvus

@Sersie

Her gaze eventually blanks as she stares out over the barren landscape- studying it all and marking the paths below her. Her mind begins to wander, focus shifting to that space in her mind, where she let her mind just run free.

There felt like there was a line in the earth before her, and half of what she loved was on one side and the other half was on the other. Right on the center of it, she stood, her scruff being pulled from one side by her duties- and on the other by her husband and children.

Which way should she sway?

Ghyslaine stars, as a voice speaks- and she freezes, her gaze not bothering to shift because she knows that voice.

It can't be.

It can't be.

She takes in a breath, and closes her eyes for a moment, and opens them slowly as if the figure in her peripheral vision will have vanished. As if she were truly a ghost- a figment of her past. She turns her gaze fully on the lioness standing next to her, and draws in a soft breath, her eyes widening.

"Xylia." Her words are a whisper, a plea to... Ghyslaine didn't believe in any gods, but in that moment... if she was real, perhaps she should start. "I thought you were... I thought you were dead." She whispers, and just like that her darkest secret- the fact that she had abandoned her sister to her own fate... is revealed and in her face. Ghys pushes herself into a sitting position, her ears falling flat on her face as she studies her sister. "I... " She trails off, and sighs softly.

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As her sister rambles, she cannot help but visibly grimace at the name spewing from her lips. A low guttural growl forms in her throat, and it is not until @Ghyslaine is finished speaking that she makes her own preference known. Shaking her head, her lips twitch before she speaks--

"Xylia is dead, you may call me Sersie"

The poor thing, cast down at such a young age. Something inside her turns, does a flip, makes her heart ache and race. But Sersie crushes it with iron will and ichor. She does not make eye contact for what feels like an age, before swinging her head to the side--just to let her beloved sister get a good look at what had happened in her absence. After all, scars spoke louder than petty, pretty words.

"She died a violent death, and I was born from her ashen corpse. But I see the world has been good to you, as it always is"

There is no hiding the bitterness here, though she might try. So much had happened--and so much had been because of her that the rage inside her ribs was almost unbearable. Her claws ache to taste the flesh of her eldest litter-mate, tail twitching in utter agitation. Let it out, she thinks, show her exactly what kind of person the world made you.

Sersie finds her feet again, walking around her sister--good eye sizing her up. How easy, how fucking hilarious and ironic. "You ever wonder what it feels like to hit the ground from this height?" she questions before coming to the other side of Ghys. Her paw kicks a rock loose and it falls, hitting its kin on the way down as gravity does its magic. "I often imagine hitting the end is painful bliss"

A long moment of silence sits on her then, before she lets out a soft cackle "Kidding, of course." she lies with a smile, a few blinks of her lashes and the relaxing of muscle. No, she was still waiting for that moment.

code by corvus

'Xylia is dead. You may call me @Sersie .'

She feels those words like a physical blow- flinching, where she lay- as she studied her sister. Or, the lioness that was once her sister. Her 'sister' or not-sister's words that she Xylia had died a violent death, and that Sersie had risen from those ashes. Ghyslaine's expression falls into a mere expression of despair.

"I... I didn't know, Xy-Sersie" Whatever she wanted to be called... "I'm sorry" Ghyslaine began, her ears falling flat against her head, as her voice pleaded with her sister to hear her. She watches, as her sister walks around her to look down over the cliff and Ghyslaine's heart hammers in her chest.

"Can't say that I have." She says lightly, glancing over the edge of the ledge. She watches as the rock falls, and as it skitters and then lands on the bottom.... she gulps.

She laughs, as her sister chuckle. Of course, of course she's kidding.

"Where.... who hut you?" She asks of her.

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Her apology rings out in the air, it stings her like a fire's blaze. Xylia--Sersie--this being created by the hands of cruel men, flinched at the utterance of sorrow. She nearly wanted to laugh at it, right back into her face for even thinking such a simple phrase could will away all the bad blood boiling beneath her skin. A rational mind might have seen that it was foolish to place the blame solely on the absence of her sister, but Sersie never claimed rationality to be a forte. No, it was quite the opposite. She was chaos in its raw form; a storm that destroys everything in its path unable to obtain even an ounce of peace. Even in death, she doubted her soul would be quelled from its fury.

Her smile persists as @Ghyslaine matches the faint laughter she had emitted moments prior. How funny it really was, that she had no idea that death was close enough to kiss her pretty ears. The smile is still on Sersie's features, though its colder now like the life behind her eyes has gone rigid. A lifeless kind of hallow, that only those who have walked in the valley of death understand. But it shifts, when Ghys asks who--how, the wounds upon her body marred forever in pinkish-brown scars.

A sigh, and her answer

"everyone, ghys." she says "And I will have my reckoning"

Her ears pin, her body tenses, and suddenly Sersie is a burst of motion. Her claws sought her sister's flesh, just like the teeth bared from dark colored gums. Seconds tick down in her mind, thinking of how she'll sink weapons into fur, to toss this petty bitch over the ledge and watch her fall. Just like the rock, hitting ever obstacle on her way down. She wants nothing more than to bathe the dry ground with red this evening, and howl at the rising moon.

code by corvus

She reflects on the day that she had left Xylia... Sersie, her sister. Ghyslaine had thought she would have gone home- never imagined... never imagined that this is what would have become of her. A lioness she did not know- did not recognize. Ghyslaine's fur prickled on the back of her neck, her fur raising along her spine, as she studies her sister. Watches her smile.

That smile... it wasn't warm or welcoming. It was wrong. Ghyslaine moved to sit, to push herself to standing- her focus on her sister- but split by the pebbles her movements sent skittering on the edge... so split that she didn't see it coming.

Impact knocked the air from her, claws into her flesh, her own pulling at the rock in a fight for traction as she struggled to right herself. "Xylia this isn't funny!" Ghys protested, her maw snapping towards her sister as she felt teeth in her fur. "I'm going to fall!" She protests again- her paws slipping, claws scrapping across stone- her tail lashing as she teeters on the edge. "Stop!" Surely this is a game, and her sisters weird way of playing with her? She couldn't mean to actually toss her from the cliff- to actually hurt her.

@Sersie

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Her teeth found it's prize, and Sersie was delighted. It propelled her further into action, biting down a little harder, claws digging a little deeper. The compact muscles of her body strained in delight at the prospect of an easy win...an effortless kill, if the world was so kind. Back legs pushed forward and gravity likely would take it's roll.

This was what she wanted right? To see her sister fall to a grisly end. For it to be by her hand, her won claw and tooth. It had consumed her dreams for so many years, that this...this was the point of no return, wasn't it? What would her life be, when this burden was lifted from her chest? Where would she go, what would she do?

Did she even care?

There was, for a brief moment, the consideration to pull back and keep @Ghyslaine from falling. To let go and leave, never to seek her out again.

But whatever her thoughts may be, gravity was a force to be reckoned with. She felt her sister's body slip, the tug of fur becoming a full pull with the sudden and massive shift in weight. A panic rises in her theoat--she'a killed before, to survive, to thrive, to feel like she mattered--but this struck different. Her eyes were wide as she yanked back, a full swift jolt of her head as if to keep from going over, or rethink her actions.

Suddenly, she feels the weight release but the taste of fur still lingers. Her claws hang off the ledge and she is stunned by what she's done. But it's inner, on the deepest inside, and all that remains for the world to see is a sneer and glee in pale eyes.


.

code by corvus

Agony sings as teeth puncture into her flesh, and claws snag into her body. Fear like she has never known rushes through her along with adrenaline as she slips and slides- fighting back with all she has, to not give way to the force pulling her down the side of the mountain. Ghyslaine snarls in defiance, snarls as her sister pushes and pulls, her teeth grabbing ahold of her- her paws slipping and slipping- and then...

She is weightless.

Claws sing against the stone in a horrifying sort of screech, snagging and ripping as she tries to grab herself, tries and fails to slow her fall. Then she is twisting and turning in the air- the ground rushing towards her, and then an audible crack and then...

Oblivion.

What she can't consciously know is that her head had smacked into a rock, a small cliff jutting out breaking her fall, so that instead of falling she rolls the rest of the way down. She can't know until she is awake- if she wakes that her sister's face was not a mask of horror at what had happened.

All she knows now, is the sweet call of oblivion.

-Ghyslaine is unconscious and wounded; once Sersie has exited, the thread can open for anyone to find her- OOC: Officially setting this after Ghys has exited LP, for the ease of timelines.

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She falls, and falls hard.

Sersie stands at the precipice of change, a crossroads now of what she should do. Though the panic in her chest is real, it's validity is quelled when her iron resolve surfaces. Whatever fear had been present was locked away, a cold calculating gaze returning to her marred features. She is a woman of Stone Will, and even tis victory would not be enough She knows that now, gazing down at the (presumably) dead corpse of her sister. The fur is still fresh in her mouth, and for a moment the woman lays it at her feet. Its a cold rush of realization that begins to overtake.

She's done it, all these years and she's done it.

...why didn't she feel more elated? Why was there no rejoicing to the heavens, howling at the moon?

Instead there is an emptiness, and a burning ambition to occupy the same space. An odd dichotomy to coexist side by side. To be full and empty at the same time; Like a man drowning in his own thirst. A glare becomes ever prominent on her scarred visage, an eclipse to hide the white and emerald. What is done is done, she cares not any longer--her message is clear, don't fuck with Sersie.

A huff of disgust at one last look at her sister, she picks up the clump of her hide and takes her leave.

----exit sersie

code by corvus

@Ghyslaine