~*~The Pack of TrueBlood: A Werewolf RP~*~ (Now open!)

I love you, Omri, but sometimes you can just be so heartless. Her eyes read. She walked back into her cabin. Anaklusmos shut the door, collapsing into a chair and praying. "Srung oe eywa. Srung Omri tse'a. srung Omri's menari ne tse'a. srung Omri ne tse'a nga did ke mean ne munge Omri's sa'nok." She whispered. "Rutxe eywa. srung oe ne srung Omri's menari." She added, her eyes closed tight in a deep depression. Her ears were flat, her blade held across her lap, her paws clasped around it as if it would keep her sane. "There's nothing left for me, Eywa."

He looked back at her, his eyes filled with an unknowable pain. You don't understand the pain...No one can ever understand the pain...His eyes said.
 
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A deafening explosion shook the dens, uprooting trees and causing caves and tunnels to colapse. A loud, roaring sound filled the air as the volcano in the BlackFire territory errupted, sending hot smoke and ashes pouring into the sky and completely blotting out the sun. As far as the TrueBloods territory reached, hot grey ashes and embers rained down, covering the ground and trees.
 
Anaklusmos brushed ashes and embers off of her head and parted her jaws in a menacing snarl. She opened the door to her cabin and went in.
 

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