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Here's a lullaby to close your eyes

It was always you that I despised

Silence leaked from the place, it dripped in a black tide of ink form every pore of this world. Oblivion curled into eternity in the shadows. Nothing moved nothing stirred. As if the breath of life had freed itself of this rotten structure. Pieces of the ceiling fell in its random cascade, dust and dirt falling with it. Decay was this place, it was a name for the broken. Demons haunted these old halls, and their cries echoed through the airless rooms. Breath was nonexistent here, only exhalation. Only the means to death. Skeleton fingers lifted the world high in this place, for that's what lay its claim here. Skeletons, the bones hanging in every closet. The bones that hung themselves in that closet. Broken spines had their heads a tilt side ways, their bonny smiles bleak in the night light. Not that even the moon could pierce the mist. The gloom that surrounded her fogged mind.

Planks of wood creaked under tawny paws, their splinter long worn away by other treading feet. Lean golden body set a drift in this world of silence the animal slunk its way farther into the pitch silence. Always moving into the dark, always hiding her beautiful frame in the midst of the devils. With the loss of god they had moved in. This hospital had become their hunting grounds, and they swooped at every new comer. But she was not one to be frightened, and her short feline snout held its sway over the dark floor. She was not one to be terrorized into disjointed fleeing. It would not claim itself in her mind. For oblivion was her mind. Little held its sanity in oblivion. Swallowed and dissipated. Life and emotion vanished, sucked into the nothingness. It is said that energy can not be destroyed- but what if it never existed in the first place?

Dead brown eyes stared out at the world. She saw nothing but darkness. Darkness and the inky swell of yet another mass collapse. The roof seemed more of a floor now a days. Not that she came here very often. Her Bengal coated body revealing once and for all what clan she claimed to belong to. Or at least what pride she cared enough to go back to. Iris. And yet here she stood wandering aimlessly once again. Whispered air currents curled around her lowered head, her sharp ears swayed with them.
Dead eyes watched silently as she paced farther into the old hospital, awaiting the demon to fly forth from the shadows. But no, they taunted her their sickly voices screaming from other places. Not that any sound actually came. No it was silent, but her hackles rippled with the temptation to snap at her sides. As if something lay tormenting her, and she wanted simply to be left alone.

The mutt shifted her pace slightly, altering her motions. Moving slowly. Darkness slipped, welcoming her with its cold embrace as she slunk farther back. Soon she would find herself facing a wall, or some other obstruction. A pile of rubble perhaps. Then she would climb, or else turn about. Keep moving, isn't that why she came here? To slip soundlessly through the shadows and think for a time that she could always be like this. Calm. Not lost to her dark suspicion. A place where she was quiet, and the want for blood did not eat at her soul. That only came when she felt dead, and for some reason wished to feel otherwise.


ooc:// I cheated oAo

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[atrb=background,http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d146/---Kirstie---/florencemiddle-1.png] The hospital was dark due to the lights failing to work anymore. It had been two years since nearly all humans ceased to exist. They left a footprint on the world, a footprint that would soon become a paw print. The buildings that were spread across the whole Earth were quickly becoming overrun by nature. It was no longer in the possession of humans. They were inferior compared nature. Florence was proud that she was a part of nature, helping take control of the Earth once again. The hospital still stank of humans, though. The reeking smell was smeared along corridors and room after room. The dusty old beds that hadn't been used in years still had the unique scent of a different human. How many had died here? How many had suffered from the disease that had eventually killed them off? How many had tried to find help from Huntington Hospital, only to die in the wards before anyone could find a cure. It was laughable. As she padded through the corridors, her large, thumping, golden paws causing the only noise in the whole hospital, she found it hilarious to see the skeletons of the dead. Once everyone began to drop like mayflies, there was no one to clear the bodies. They rotted where they died, never deserving a decent burial. Their souls were probably still trapped, screaming out for release. She stopped at a corpse, eyes twinkling with humour as she inspected it. There was little skin left. The flies, bugs and beetles had had a field day when they found all these bodies. It had been no time at all that they'd all been decomposed and eaten. No one was there to stop them this time. They were glorious meat to feed millions of bugs. Pathetic, really. Humans had grown cocky at the years went on. Buildings were beginning to crumble now. There was no one there to fix them, so they began to fall like dominoes, row after row. It wouldn't be long before the hospital finally gives up. The wood will rot, the metal will rust and the bricks will crumble. No one would even care. As the lioness crept through the shadows, another scent overflowed her nostrils. It was one she knew well. Scum. Perhaps Florence was in the mood to knock about one of her slaves today. They shouldn't be wandering too far anyway. Following her nose, Florence lashed her tail around as she looked for a pack member to torment. It took a long time to find her. She was a small, sleek cat that was hiding in the shadows. Watching her carefully in silence, Florence debated the best way to go about approaching. She eventually decided to try and scare her. Tensing her body, Florence narrowed her eyes and watched carefully, before pouncing, hoping to land near enough to the cat to frighten her. ooc; is this font colour too light?

[ink]

Here's a lullaby to close your eyes

It was always you that I despised

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Like some sort of disembodied heart beat the sound pounded into her skull. Her brain flinched with each noise, ad with a weak hiss the girl dropped her head. Ears slicking back against her skull, the tawny cat peered weakly about herself. Into the oblivion, into the nothing. Slowly she turned, ears trained towards the sound. And now that the weak sounds of steps where within her mind she backed away from them. She didn't wish to see any one, not form her pride, nor from the afterlife. Demons or devils. She didn't want to pick. Silence had been lost to her and so even in her emotionless twinge she felt annoyance ooze forth. But it oozed back, and with a sigh she padded silently towards them. Towards the sound. Towards her master. Scent whispered into her face now, the air currents drawing it through her whiskers. So one had come here to turn her back. To the slave she was, to scum.

Oh how she loved it.

The pain and the hate. Knowing that she gave someone else a want or a wish. A whim. She was useful. Useful... Pace increasing the feline hurried forth now. Useful useful. A thing she needed a thing that made her heart beat with real power. Almost as good as pain. Almost as good as agony. But not as good. But oh when they both came when they both presented themselves. Oh how she reveled. Moaning in lustful agony. She loved it, oh how she loved it. Let them beat her to bloody rags. Let them tear her and rip her and do with her what they please. Because they didn't know she loved it, because she hid it. If they knew she loved it then they would stop- and she couldn't have that. No she couldn't. With a slight whimper she strode forward even faster, and with a wail she lept back. Brown eyes flaring wide.

Huge, it was huge! Tawny bulk slammed into the floor before her and with a shriek the Bengal feline scrabbled backward. Claws ripping into the wood under paw. Wood worn smooth, and soon to crumble. It gave a soft thunk as she ripped the curves free. Huddling backward the small cat stared up at the lioness, dark brown eyes wide before the shrunk again. Momentary terror over, she slunk back to her paws, finding it in herself to sprawl on the floor. Belly pressed as tightly to the wood as it could go the she-cat loward her eyes and stared at her master's feet. "Ma'am" she breathed, barley allowing her rough under used voice to leak from her lips.

Turning her nose to the dust she dragged her beautiful disgusting body from the ground. Legs locked so she could stand without sprawling forward once again. She was the slave, the one meant to be battered and the one meant to be tormented into her oblivion. Eyes cast low she let her tail drag as she stepped forward to touch her nose to her master's chest. "I am yours to do with what you wish Master" Slipping backward the beautiful felidae stared at the lioness before her, not allowing her eyes to rise above Master's chin. She had no right to look any higher then that. She was scum, and with a secret grin she reveled in her disgusting pleasure.

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[atrb=background,http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d146/---Kirstie---/florencemiddle-1.png] The pleasure of hearing the shriek emit from the small, tawny cat made Florence smirk as she watched the female compose herself. It was always fun to muck about with the slaves. They were toys. They were puppets on strings and Florence was the puppet master. She could do as she pleased with them and they could do nothing about it. They were all too weak to fight back. Not only that, but this particular kitty didn't seem to even care that she was considered scum. Perfect. Stretching her features into a wide, morbid grin, she peered down at the flattened cat. Compliant and submissive, just the way she liked them. Florence didn't lower herself to the ground like that; it would only make it look like she considered them as equals. Instead she stood tall, looking down her golden nose at the stupid female below her. "You call me ma'am yet you also call me Master. Are you thick, child?" She hissed, her face winkling as her fangs emerged from between her lips. Moving her head closer so that her rancid breath would be smelt by the other cat, she continued, "I am a female and you must address me as Mistress."

[/color] With one, large paw, her claws already out, she swiped, hoping to hit the feline anywhere. She could do what she liked. If she wanted to kick this cat around like a rag doll, then she could. Florence probably wouldn't even care if she eventually murdered the cat in one of her games. It would be a damn loss, though, as she's have one less scum to play with.

Eyes glittering with power, she stepped forward again. "You're a fool. A stupid one. You do realise you'll rot in hell, don't you?"[/color] She asked, knowing there would only be one place for this cat to be. She didn't deserve any other place but hell. Only the victorious got a prize, and she was far from a winner. Smirking, she lashed out again, hoping to strike her again. Florence then began to circle her, keeping her eyes fixated on the cat in the middle. She didn't deserve to live. Scum like her never deserved to live, so she should count herself as fucking lucky that she was still alive. Florence could easily give her to the demons if she wanted.

"Tell me,"[/color] Florence continued, almost sounding careless as she finally lowered her rump to the ground and indifferently licked the back of her paw as if nothing was amiss, "Tell me, do you wish that I hand you over to the demons? Do you wish that I could let them torture you for the rest of eternity?"[/color] She asked with a smirk, waiting for a reply eagerly.

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][bg=2b2b33] Losers never prosper. Devils never age. So what was she to do as her mistress spoke her words. nothing, because she wanted them. She craved their ending comfort. Words that could silence her with easy clarity. But it was coming the thing she really wanted, it was coming. "If you say I am such Queen" she whispered after the comment. Rhetorical or not she was to answer when spoken to. She didn't fight back, she wanted the damage too badly. Let her body be broken. Let them beat her against a wall. Oh please? She wanted it so badly she felt the need leaking on to her face. A half deranged smile spiking across the other wise emotionless features. Keeping her head down to hide the demonic grin she felt it coming, the wipe of air before the impact. And then glory. Claws loose she was flung back several steps. Her body staggering side ways form the blow, and her mind reveled. Blood drooled form the scratches along her shoulder, and with a single breath she stepped back into place. Staring at the dirt before her Mistress. Creaking grin shifting across her tawny face she held herself like one lost to time. Muscles rigid as she fought back the cascading pleasure. If she could look like she was in pain she would be set. Oh how they loved their scum to cry in agony. But she couldn't she could only howl. Like one caught in the throws of bloody perfection she shook so hard her legs trembled. Starving off the full on shuddering haze that would soon come the Bengal let her tail swing in the dust behind her. "Yes mistress. Everything you say is truth" And that was so because her word was god's and it was true. For god decided who was to live and who was to die. Florence, her brutal Mistress was god. And such a wonderful god she was. As if she knew the bowls of hell the masochist was dragged from, she played with her. Tormenting her body and sending her into shuddering lust. Thank you god. Thank you Florence. Whiskers detecting the motion, she glanced up in time to see the lioness' chest inch closer to her. Stupid? No she was not stupid. Ilyich new exactly what she wanted and she was in the exact spot she needed to be in to receive it.So let her mistress judge that which she does not know. Let her pretend to understand the inner workings of her broken slave. Good old emotionless Ilyich, ready to be pummeled into the dirt so we can feel better about ourselves. No she was not stupid. She wanted this, and had pissed off the exact right person to get it. The second lash came soon after the words, and the tawny Bengal arched her back to receive it. Let her Mistress think of her as she wishes. But she dear Ilyich is not a bad slave. She never runs or hides or flinches. She knows what she wants and she takes it. Pain. Glorious never ending agony.Let it be hers, and let it rot her soul. "Hell my lady? Its simply not hot enough" the words whisked past her fangs in a long drawn out mew. She sounded deranged, she was sure. But she was right. No flame would ever be hot enough. Eternal damnation was her Disney world. But she did not trust in hell. Did not trust in its beauty. No she would rot, but she would rot and unconscious shell in the earth. her fur would slick away and maggots would eat her flesh. One day she would rot, but not in hell. Hell just wasn't as cruel as earth. She felt the circling but did not look up to view the shark like behavior. Ilyich remained trying to hide the demonic grin on her face. Emotionless, no glint of anything any where. Except for that demonic grin. That cold creepy stretch of bared fangs along her face. Like some sort of grinning skull she stared at the dirt. She also felt her Mistress sit, lowering her ass to the pavement. Slinking towards the lioness with out looking up the domestic cat stood within swiping distance. Hit me again please. Let my blood run a bit more please. This little wound just isn't enough for me right now."Why would you hand me over to them Mistress when you can just torment me yourself?" "speak to me in your devils tongue"

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[atrb=background,http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d146/---Kirstie---/florencemiddle-1.png] Florence snorted in amusement at the cat's answer. Stupid thing. Those mental cats always amused Florence as they were just so odd compared to 'normal' ones. Florence would be lying if she said she understood this scum. She was a riddle; a riddle Florence was determined to solve. Glaring down at the deranged, smiling cat, Florence felt good when her paw connected with her shoulder. Florence sniffed the air, letting out a quiet groan at the smell of blood consuming her. It was nice to know that she had caused that scratch across her body. It was like a brand, showing that she belonged to Florence and only to Florence. She sometimes wished she could brand all her pack members. Her eyes glinted and darkened at the thought of them all bearing the same scar across their body, showing that they all belonged. Florence knew that many would leave the pack, however. No one but this crazy, little cat would want to be branded. Perhaps Florence could strike her a little harder next time? Perhaps if she caught her face... she'd be able to create a permanent scar running down her cheek. Then everyone would know who she really belonged to. Then everyone would know who had the power in this pack. Florence cackled under her breath, feeling slightly drunk with power. How had she coped before she'd been the leader of the Iris Pride? "No, I suppose hell isn't adequate enough for you." Florence replied as she studied her. Florence wished to torment her for as long as possible. From the looks of it, it seemed like the scum seemed to be enjoying it as well. Florence had met few that actually enjoyed torture. It defeated the purpose, really. She laughed as she circled the small cat, like a mouse compared to the large lioness. It was simply just like a cat playing with its food before it finally died. The pure pleasure of the play was just too fun to resist. She eventually pounced, hoping to catch the cat unaware and to be pinning her underneath Florence's body. Staring down at her, she lowered her face toward the deranged creature and stared into her lost eyes, "How would you like it if I punctured my teeth into your neck right now?"

[/color] She whispered, voice husky as her jaws were inches away from the cat's pulse point. The taste of metallic blood was already in her mouth, and however much Florence wished to taste blood, she knew it would be a waste.

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