"The damage is infectious, and all that can be done is purge it all and start from scratch."
If life is a series of choices, then perhaps that just means that life is a game? To Akazawa Saki, that's all life really is. She refutes the existence of G...
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The air was frigid, touched with invisible teeth of frozen presence, biting into the uncovered flesh like a ravenous feline to a mouse. And as the scent of frosted pine and wood rot sunk into the air, there was little more that could be done but grit ones teeth and move on with the morning.
Akazawa Saki's mind was preoccupied with plans, teeth chewing tentatively over her bottom lip as she scrawled notes and plans across parchment pages.
The injuries that lined her arms were a dull ache against the flesh, scarcely drawing more than the furrowing of her brow as the aches flared to life with the motions of her sweeping quill. A span of motley tan cloth was adhered across the right side of her face by a mixture of starch, a makeshift adhesive bandage, if she had to associate a term for it. A large surplus of ingots lay against the wall within her house, freshly smelted along with the excessively large pile of animal pelts and various other items she had come to possession of recently.
A mass of ebony fur sounded a faint purr as it circled her ankles tucked beneath the rickety old table, the rumbling of its vibrating chest tickling against Saki's covered feet.
She was making many plans, contingency and shopping combined, and her thoughts were in the throws of ascertaining what supplies she needed for her most current venture.
The bandits were getting a bit too frisk with their foul behavior, creeping far too close to her place of residence for her liking. And their slaughter did naught but tide her spitting fury down, lurking beneath the surface.
An extermination felt very much in demand, at least until Saki's anger was ebbed and settled. And if by chance along the way she happened to find a new location to set up home, she would take the opportunity to investigate whether the venture would be feasible.
A few new blades were in order, and she had to forge some more arrows given her most recent rampage. More poisons were a preference, but what with all the complications that had been made, and the apparent progress of whatever happened to that investigation, Saki was reluctant to go in at all. Perhaps after hours, when it was just Garrak still in the Court Herbalists office, if the guards would let her in, that was.
Her preoccupation with extermination was, perhaps, in part, a seething part of her that had yet to ebb completely, something that remained affixed within the deepest part of her soul, like instinct in a wild animal.
It wasn't new, and under every instance these feelings occurred, she was reminded of a conversation she had once shared with Garrak quite some time ago.
'You define Wrath itself, and every piece of emotion that adorns it, personified. Honestly, I would be surprised if there were another person in this world that befits it any better than you.' The woman of blonde locks and violet eyes had told her once, upon an eve touched with that special liquor she brewed, and a touch of topical antibiotic herbs smeared right across the ravenette's face. It had been the end of a hunt she had undertaken, leading to a batch of peculiar herbs she discovered along the way, and she had brought the specimens straight to the woman upon her return. 'It's peculiar in the sense that people won't ever understand you, and you honestly couldn't care less, I imagine.'
