[AW] mz hyde

[Huntington]

nice guys get crucified GOTTA FIND A SCAPEGOAT another place. another attempt. once more into the proverbial fire. once more to throw words like weapons. dance about like she gave a damn about the realm she had trod in. and once more to even live. Huntington had arrived in this new place. old to some. new to her. she treads carefully, though not cautiously, through the sparse treeline. pale hellfire burns like acid across the autumn night. camouflaged enough given the appropriate season. there seems to be no light to these orbs, only a calm acceptance of the reality. she does not know where she is and finds she cares little. a lanky scar-ridden limb shoots out until her ivory hoof is cemented to the ground. another step. then again. until she finds herself out of the treeline and into plain sight. her mane presents down her back, a crescendo of highlights both light and dark. the woman is brittle looking though young. stitching makes up her entirety. old and new wounds cover her frame. she does not blink. she stares, taking in the sight of the area quietly and added it to her memory bank. an ear flicks backward before it returns. alone, it would seem. yet for how long? she oft finds many are drawn to strangers. she is no exception to this hypothetical. someone will come. they always did. for now, she would wait for them to come buzzing about her head like a locust's wraith. she stops in her tracks, half-lids glancing about for any sign of movement. and she speaks not a word. ready to embrace new potentials like a mother would a child, she is.