m e k h i (incomplete)

s e v e n t e e n

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s e v e n t e e n

It's a blur of wind, and fast movement amongst the woods, the thick trunks of trees all beginning to meld together in one solid colour. Her hair billowed behind her, and the air's movement hit her face harshly, cold tinging her features a pale pink.

Alden's fur is warm and thick beneath her grasp, fingers curled tightly and not bound to let go anytime soon. His form is smooth as he paws across lycan grounds, and her face nuzzles into him, fear beginning to flicker in the pits of her stomach.

She didn't know what was happening, and the wolf was beginning to shrink into herself.

The general skids to a smooth stop, and her eyes peel open, vaguely recognising the clearing that they had held the barbecue in, not at all far from the main courtyard of the palace.

Her fear begins to grow, especially when the beast slowly nudges her off from him, movements gentle as to not hurt her.

Ember wasn't scared of vampires. She hadn't encountered them before, but they held no threat.

It was the scent, that horrid and grotesque scent that sent her head into havoc. Ember was sensitive to scents and smells, and now that there were vampires nearing her, her nose burned and her throat began to swell.

It was different to when Orion – the lawkeeper- had been here. Orion didn't have a scent, because he'd given up most of his vampire characteristics to be a lawkeeper. And then, there were a hoard of strong lycan males around Ember, and that was all she could smell, their strong and primal musk.

It was sickly sweet, so sweet to the point where nausea would build. Her head would begin to throb with a sullen ache, and she'd begin to feel faint. The nausea would build and imprison her stomach, until eventually the bile would rise and she'd be sick all over.

She hated the smell, and her body already had a weak stomach, so it was already taking a toll on her. Her throat felt dry, and her thoughts began to feel clouded.

The more the figures began to near, the stronger the smell got. Her stomach writhed, and her breakfast was beginning to threaten to spill from her mouth, throat welling. She's hot, body temperature raising with a sudden fever, and it's like she can't breathe. There's no more oxygen left for her, except for the scent.

It wasn't just her body that took a hit from it either.

Her head flared up with things she had locked away for so long.

The beta used to flood her room with the smell, make her stew in it for the darkest hours of the night, have her throw up and then have her sleep in her sick. She'd throw up until the contents of her stomach were empty, and then she'd have to suffer through the weight of nausea falling over her, the body wanting to rid, but having nothing left to give up.

He wouldn't let her clean herself up, making her sleep in it until every inch of her smelt foul, and the surface of her skin was covered in it's dried contents. It was only when light dawned, when she was allowed to get up and rub her skin raw from it, and eventually wash the sheets over and over again, to not rid only her own mess, but the scent.

Her room would linger in it for days after he chose to do so, and it would always leave a small trace that she'd have to bear. She always felt faint headed in the room he had given her.