03-17-2020, 12:48 PM
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you cannot domesticate an animal. lake had learned this the hard way, the messy way, the bloody way. as it turned out, she was an animal after all, and she hadn't enjoyed her domestication.
she's seventeen, nearly eighteen, by all measures no more mature than any child. but the issue always arises in that matter, when she struggles to think in any complex manner, but she's bigger and stronger than any grown man she'd matched thus far. nearly seven feet tall, bluntly cut ashen curls hanging just above her shoulders, blue eyes wild and hungry like those of an animal. she's lean, not muscular or thin; hidden muscle so clearly lying beneath a frame that lacked fat, a side effect of needing twice the daily calories of the average person her age.
scars and tattoos line sun kissed flesh, glowing golden in the light of the late winter sunset. covering too many of them, however, is blood in varying stages of the drying process. she's sitting on a rock, perched on the edge, looking every bit a predator as she rests there. she's covered in blood, but from a lack of injuries, it's clearly not her own. instead, it covers her hands and forearms, splatters along her chest and knees, smears over her mouth and jaw, and if there was any question about it's origins, the vague remains of a deer were half buried a few yards away from her. there's a dark look in those blue eyes as she sits, not bothering to clean herself off, waiting for someone to approach.
anyone who'd met lake before wouldn't ever forget her. the teenager, tall and solid as a tree, is hard to miss. you get tall people, sure, but nothing like the creature that rested like a lioness on her own pride rock. it's more than just her distinct appearance, though— it's that personality that was so often impossible to forget.
she'd raised herself, grown up away from society. it left her largely illiterate and likewise lacking communication skills. she had no knowledge of social rules, crossing physical and society rules regularly. she said exactly what popped into her head with no hesitation, blunt and frank. likewise, she was often seen strutting about eating food, and without any hesitation, she could just as easily chase down just about anyone, as was evident by the doe's passing without any weaponry involved. she had no qualms, no restrictions regarding violence, and while it could be dangerous when she was viewed as volatile, all to often she made a fantastic weapon.
built like a tank, she could be as obedient as a dog when she felt there was something to gain from it. the last time she'd been there, it was that coveted brand. she didn't care what the seared flesh represented, only that few people got it, and that made her want it. in camp apocalypse, it was an affection towards willow and jordan, two of the only women who'd ever seemingly given her a chance. that affection carried her to bluestem, willow's next location.
she'd tried so hard to be good, to domesticate herself. but it was like putting a sweater on a wolf; the wool covering it's frame didn't suddenly strip it of it's wicked, wild ways. she'd been left feeling restless and contained, two feelings that didn't compute well for a teenager of nearly seven feet, so she left. just as she had so many times over, she'd stood up one day and left.
but there was a distinction about her now, seated there. she'd always had a wildness to her, but it was different now. the sun kissed flesh surrounding blue eyes was darkened with kohl, and though she'd always seemed plenty impervious to the cold, perpetually in a tank top and cargo pants, this time she wore only black. for once, she wore shoes, mens boots that barely fit. also black, laced up tightly around her ankle.
it was an entirely new look, and though she was plenty recognizable, it was quite obvious that the time that had passed since her last residence in the badlands had brought that legendary teenage angst along with it. perhaps it might be viewed as a phase, but one might just as easily presume that this was simply who she was now. after all, she'd never been the sweet-and-sunny variety.
flesh covered in small tattoos of symbols and scars, covered in blood and smears of dirt and kohl, glowing in the sunset. body clad in black clothing, ignoring the cool weather. a duffel bag rests beside her, lumpy and only half full, her entire life reduced to it's contents. lake stands, done with her meal, and lifts the bag, traipsing into the territory with her usual lack of regard for boundaries. she figures she'll run into someone eventually— was catalyst still here? she couldn't imagine they'd be very happy to see her after her lack of a goodbye, but that didn't stop lake. she'd never been one to give a shit.
( hi hello i'm sick but the tree is bacc bois )
you cannot domesticate an animal. lake had learned this the hard way, the messy way, the bloody way. as it turned out, she was an animal after all, and she hadn't enjoyed her domestication.
she's seventeen, nearly eighteen, by all measures no more mature than any child. but the issue always arises in that matter, when she struggles to think in any complex manner, but she's bigger and stronger than any grown man she'd matched thus far. nearly seven feet tall, bluntly cut ashen curls hanging just above her shoulders, blue eyes wild and hungry like those of an animal. she's lean, not muscular or thin; hidden muscle so clearly lying beneath a frame that lacked fat, a side effect of needing twice the daily calories of the average person her age.
scars and tattoos line sun kissed flesh, glowing golden in the light of the late winter sunset. covering too many of them, however, is blood in varying stages of the drying process. she's sitting on a rock, perched on the edge, looking every bit a predator as she rests there. she's covered in blood, but from a lack of injuries, it's clearly not her own. instead, it covers her hands and forearms, splatters along her chest and knees, smears over her mouth and jaw, and if there was any question about it's origins, the vague remains of a deer were half buried a few yards away from her. there's a dark look in those blue eyes as she sits, not bothering to clean herself off, waiting for someone to approach.
anyone who'd met lake before wouldn't ever forget her. the teenager, tall and solid as a tree, is hard to miss. you get tall people, sure, but nothing like the creature that rested like a lioness on her own pride rock. it's more than just her distinct appearance, though— it's that personality that was so often impossible to forget.
she'd raised herself, grown up away from society. it left her largely illiterate and likewise lacking communication skills. she had no knowledge of social rules, crossing physical and society rules regularly. she said exactly what popped into her head with no hesitation, blunt and frank. likewise, she was often seen strutting about eating food, and without any hesitation, she could just as easily chase down just about anyone, as was evident by the doe's passing without any weaponry involved. she had no qualms, no restrictions regarding violence, and while it could be dangerous when she was viewed as volatile, all to often she made a fantastic weapon.
built like a tank, she could be as obedient as a dog when she felt there was something to gain from it. the last time she'd been there, it was that coveted brand. she didn't care what the seared flesh represented, only that few people got it, and that made her want it. in camp apocalypse, it was an affection towards willow and jordan, two of the only women who'd ever seemingly given her a chance. that affection carried her to bluestem, willow's next location.
she'd tried so hard to be good, to domesticate herself. but it was like putting a sweater on a wolf; the wool covering it's frame didn't suddenly strip it of it's wicked, wild ways. she'd been left feeling restless and contained, two feelings that didn't compute well for a teenager of nearly seven feet, so she left. just as she had so many times over, she'd stood up one day and left.
but there was a distinction about her now, seated there. she'd always had a wildness to her, but it was different now. the sun kissed flesh surrounding blue eyes was darkened with kohl, and though she'd always seemed plenty impervious to the cold, perpetually in a tank top and cargo pants, this time she wore only black. for once, she wore shoes, mens boots that barely fit. also black, laced up tightly around her ankle.
it was an entirely new look, and though she was plenty recognizable, it was quite obvious that the time that had passed since her last residence in the badlands had brought that legendary teenage angst along with it. perhaps it might be viewed as a phase, but one might just as easily presume that this was simply who she was now. after all, she'd never been the sweet-and-sunny variety.
flesh covered in small tattoos of symbols and scars, covered in blood and smears of dirt and kohl, glowing in the sunset. body clad in black clothing, ignoring the cool weather. a duffel bag rests beside her, lumpy and only half full, her entire life reduced to it's contents. lake stands, done with her meal, and lifts the bag, traipsing into the territory with her usual lack of regard for boundaries. she figures she'll run into someone eventually— was catalyst still here? she couldn't imagine they'd be very happy to see her after her lack of a goodbye, but that didn't stop lake. she'd never been one to give a shit.
( hi hello i'm sick but the tree is bacc bois )
[b][i]she'll want the devil on her side