you're a little much for me — private

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    you'd think she was dancing, if she was anyone else.


    she moved through the camp with grace, silent and mysterious as ever. she always thought speaking unless prompted was silly; it was as though some people lived to hear themselves speak. she preferred the quiet though, preferred the world without the murmur of her voice among it. she was no mute, of course, but she wasn't some chatter box. she preferred it like that, preferred to watch. it was easier that way.


    she moved almost aimlessly, going where her paws took her. her hips swayed, dark, almond shaped eyes focusing on nothing in particular. there was a damn good reason people called her crazy, and this was a perfect example of it - she moved through life without purpose. but she liked that, liked having no purpose, because it was her purpose. she was there to show others theirs, while also meant to do anything but, and it worked wonderfully.


    so there she went, wandering on thin little paws, paying no mind to anyone, and yet, attentive to everything.


    [low key rambles b/c i'm mid-feeding.]


    MALKYN.

    GO AGAINST THE GODS. – malkyn macabre rhodes.

    GO AGAINST THE REAPER. I'M AN ALMIGHTY CREATURE.


    Malkyn preferred to stay on the outskirts of the island, given Deathstroke's appearance. She feels.. sick being around him, his presence triggering memories she didn't want in her head right now. Memories or no, he was exiled, he shouldn't fucking be here. Mal rubs at her face with her paws, laying somewhere in the city-state, humming slightly. Malkyn rolls over then, settling on her side and staring at the wall of the buildings she was in between. She could be doing something more productive, get her mind off things that were happening. Instead, she laid at Talia (Natalia)'s old house, unable to go inside.


    She's too highstrung to use her powers to shrink herself in order to fit inside, too aggressive. It would only cause her to explode into another feral episode, of which she didn't want. She still didn't know what she did in BloodClan (or how Eden was infected, perhaps she did it and didn't remember). She doesn't want a repeat. At least, she says she doesn't. If she's feral, Cyrus can't tell her what to do, Cyrus can't tell her not to rip Deathstroke and Feliks to shreds if she really wanted to.


    Mal is far too caught up in her thoughts to notice Lauren moving through camp (likely stepping around the elephant sized hellspawn as she was stretched out between the buildings.) She's too preoccupied with breathing smoke from her opened mouth, staring a hole through the nearby wall.


    ALPHA OF THE CANOMAGICAE. CAINSMARK'S HELLHOUND.