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Early Autumn, Year 1


Eska played by milvine
Eska Huron
6 years Female Deceased, Rogue
No Information No Information
Profile Image (c) Jessica Knowlden
Attributes Statistics
2'6" feet // 70 lbs

She's a sallow little thing, scarcely a shadow of the bold beast she once was --- her skin is perpetually flaky, dry, bitten over and over by the fleas gone unattended and the fur unkempt. The saddle that once lay strong against her back and tail's end is a faded gray like the rest of her being, dusty and seemingly mingling with the myriad of phantom scars on her body. It seems that her hide barely clings to her bones, sagging at points and stretching taut against thin ribs and wiry limbs --- one of which seems to be a bit lame.

Eska's eyes, once proud --- sharp --- as the sun, are disfigured, destroyed, ruined as she cursed the gods. The right is a shadow of its original state, mangled and often bloodshot, milky film where the pupil lies. Her left is entirely gone, cast out by her own claws.

The femme fatale is a common figure in film noir --- a sultry woman leaning upon the down-on-his-luck man and hiding a dark secret --- and, while she abides by the tenants of tragedy and desperation and a stubborn sort of self-reliance, Eska finds herself in the unique cracks in sheets of ice; they are just as broken as she, trampled upon by forces greater than, beyond themselves. She has yet to see the beauty in those faults, in those little traumas and the greater, vast landscape that is living.

Her drive is bitterness, spite, a mother's love gone unused --- she remembers the feeling of him, oh-so-small, clutched between her paws, breaths dead before he even felt the cool rush of air, the bruise of birth, his lungs swelling with the first cries. Eska wants that again, again, again, even as she stares over the sheer cliff of her own desperation and poor choice of coping mechanisms.

Deep down, beneath her seemingly manic desires and need to live in the past that she believes was stolen from her, Eska is just a mother: bereft, forlorn, grieving. The world is wrong, time is wrong--- she needs to fix it, she has to fix it, she will fix it---!

Shoulders sinking, head craning miserably against stone in the red, red, red. Blunt claws scrabbled against the dirt and the sod and the grass already tainted red by the sunset and the flow of blood as she pushed at the limits of her lungs --- wailing and sobbing and beseeching the gods for their silence, forsaking Anodyne and their fickle omniscience --- they must be willfully ignoring her pleas, her cries.

Her jaws cracked against the stone as she drew her skull against it once more, the sharpness of its edge lancing across her skin in a million shocks she refused to register properly. Eska gasped --- a ragged, despondent sound that bobbed with each shaky breath --- and braced herself. Paws spread across the dirt, hind legs pressing hard against wildflowers and grasses. Eyes puffy, bloodshot, stinging, useless. What were they worth if they saw only the physical things, only those that Anodyne had fooled her into seeing--- what she had lost in that night, her only son.

He had been so small.

A sob wrenched its way out of her throat, tail lashing. Her eyes watered, though she refused to let a single tear fall for the bastard god to see. He had been so little. So precious, so fragile, so broken. Life stolen before it had even come to be. Like fire stolen from the Gods--- Eska screwed her eyes shut, forcing a deep, uneven breath.

Her voice, bitter and so, so heartsick, finally slipped past the tears and the aching, "fuck you, Anodyne--- fuck you." A pause, for another breath. Hurt. It hurt and she let it hurt. The tone of her words shifted to hysterical, keening, as she stared into the sky, "please, please--- take my sight. Bring him back to me, tell me how to bring him back, please."

Silence fell, and so did her skull--- an eye dashed across the rock and the other bloodshot and wretched and broken.

Eska slumped against the earth, slowly easing into the very same position her son had been torn away and buried in--- curled up, tail scarcely touching the nose, limbs twisted uncomfortably and unsympathetic in the face of all that life was.


It's been months since then.
Colors: Grey

Eyes: Yellow

Combat: 5 Scouting: 1
Fortitude: 2 Magic: 0

Health Notes:
None yet
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