Post by cyrus on Jun 21, 2011 21:05:35 GMT -5
How long had she been here? Long enough to question her name, her sanity and long enough to have forgotten her history. The only thing that had kept her somewhat sane was the name she thought was hers, Onyx Featherstone. Those two words were always in the back of her mind, reminding her who she thought she was. But who was that really? Since she only knew the name how could she know herself?
She had been in this dark cell for a long time, a place without a window or any light, but being a werewolf she didn’t need light to see through this murky darkness. Her senses of sight, smell and hearing were heightened along with her strength and speed. All this making her a formidable opponent that is unless silver was around.
That was why she was trapped here. Silver veins glittered in the stone walls and ceiling surrounding her and the door was solid silver. The only area in her cell that didn’t have silver was the floor. So Onyx spent her time curled up in the center of the room trying her best to distance herself from the toxic walls. The constant presence of silver had made the beauty weak and sick; she was only able to keep down a little food. Not that she really wanted to eat anyway. But she knew she must for if she didn’t she would become even weaker and probably die, not that she would be the first.
The one thing that she hated more than silver was the “Takers.” Just the thought of their name made her pale lips curl in a wolf-like grimace. She didn’t know their real title but that was what all the other wolves called them when they warned of their coming. Warning each other was important; it was the only thing they could do to stand against the evil beings in their state. As the others said, they must be one in order to take on the creatures. The “Takers,” took their blood, for what reason Onyx did not know. The took each wolf from their cell at a certain time and brought them to a place with a silver slab where they strapped the werewolf down and took a liter of their blood. Each wolf should have a large scar on their back caused by the silver slab. What shape Onyx once again was in the dark, but they did it so often the wolves didn’t have time to heal fully. Onyx’s scar was a long whip-like lash across her back from her right shoulder to her left hip. And that was what had reminded her that she was alive.
She had been in this dark cell for a long time, a place without a window or any light, but being a werewolf she didn’t need light to see through this murky darkness. Her senses of sight, smell and hearing were heightened along with her strength and speed. All this making her a formidable opponent that is unless silver was around.
That was why she was trapped here. Silver veins glittered in the stone walls and ceiling surrounding her and the door was solid silver. The only area in her cell that didn’t have silver was the floor. So Onyx spent her time curled up in the center of the room trying her best to distance herself from the toxic walls. The constant presence of silver had made the beauty weak and sick; she was only able to keep down a little food. Not that she really wanted to eat anyway. But she knew she must for if she didn’t she would become even weaker and probably die, not that she would be the first.
The one thing that she hated more than silver was the “Takers.” Just the thought of their name made her pale lips curl in a wolf-like grimace. She didn’t know their real title but that was what all the other wolves called them when they warned of their coming. Warning each other was important; it was the only thing they could do to stand against the evil beings in their state. As the others said, they must be one in order to take on the creatures. The “Takers,” took their blood, for what reason Onyx did not know. The took each wolf from their cell at a certain time and brought them to a place with a silver slab where they strapped the werewolf down and took a liter of their blood. Each wolf should have a large scar on their back caused by the silver slab. What shape Onyx once again was in the dark, but they did it so often the wolves didn’t have time to heal fully. Onyx’s scar was a long whip-like lash across her back from her right shoulder to her left hip. And that was what had reminded her that she was alive.