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“Five devils are approaching. Five black hearts are wanting. It is five who cry a dark and lonely song, calling for their queen. Lion, shark, dragon, wolf and…shadow.”
“Congratulations Aurelia, you are a regina to five animus’ beasts.” Her eyes bore into mine and her voice becomes light with wonder. “Dear girl, I wish you luck. Two are already in prison…but somehow that is the least of your worries.”
“If anyone hurts my chicken, they’re fucking dead! Hear me? Fucking dead!”
The metal board has the school rules written in big black letters and I huff a laugh as I read: Class A offences-subject to judicial hearing · Murder · Torture · Consuming other students or staff Class B offences-subject to local punishment · Permanent maiming or mutilation Class C offences-subject to remedial classes · Shifting in non-shifting areas · Accidental grievous bodily harm · Marking via urination, furniture or any property · Public nudity (accidental or otherwise) · Public fornication or acts of indecency · Disrespectful behaviours towards staff
There are plenty of openly LGBTQ members within our kind and having a male with an anima or a female with an animus are less common, but not unheard of. In our world, the spirit of your beast form takes precedence over your outward appearance. It’s why it’s so hard for us (me) to fight our anima when it wants something. Like my mates. But she’s instinct and spirit only. There’s no logic involved. Only need.
Next time, I’m going to take all of her underwear. She can go without for all I care. All the better for us to scent her as she walks around. I’d have to leave her one pair because what if she has her period and uses pads? I’m not rabid. I know about women’s needs. My regina’s needs.
here Scythe is. Watching me. Threatening me and my underwear, which is currently on fire because my anima wants him so badly she’s weeping hot tears from between my legs.
Resting bitch face? Try resting don’t-fuck-with-me-or-I’ll-gouge-your-eyeballs-out face.
the thing is, you put a whole bunch of feral delinquents together in a room and stories like that are commonplace. Feral children often come from feral homes. Not all of us, like Minnie, but some.
Savage is frowning in disbelief. “Did she just regina-order me?” I snarl, “Yes, and your little bitch-ass complied.”
The man I am cannot see it because he will not allow himself more pain. But he did not fall in his final hour and neither will you. Command me. I am your general of war. Let me lead us into blood and fire and then we will make love on the ashes of our enemies.”
