ℕ𝕖𝕠𝕞𝕒's Den

𝓦𝓮 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓻, 𝓪 𝓖𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽.

𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝓊𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈.
𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅.

𝒲𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝓊𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈, 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒽𝑒𝓃𝒹...

𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝐹𝒾𝓃 𝒱𝓊𝓁𝑜𝓃 𝒩𝒾𝓂𝒶𝒶𝓇, 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝐼𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻.

𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓊𝓈, 𝓌𝑒 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉. 𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇'𝓈 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒.

𝒥𝑜𝒾𝓃 𝓊𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈, 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓂 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈. 𝒲𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒹...

𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮...

You've been walking for a while, cursing yourself for trying to find the pride you only heard rumors of. You were so preoccupied with mumbling you didn't realize how dark it suddenly became, the forest was eerily quiet now. You shake your head and look up, suddenly seeming to notice the darkness and stillness of the forest that was vibrant just minutes ago.

The echoing birdsong is gone, the warm sun on your fur is gone. Your fur itches like there's ants crawling through them, your nose wrinkles when you smell the faint scent of dead moss, hay and old bones. Your body screams at you to turn back but you ignore the unease and push forward, after a while of walking through the darkness, your unease grows. You finally give in and start to turn around but that's when you hear it, laughter, at first it seems amusing, genuine, like a lioness laughing while watching her cubs play. But then it turns mocking, directed at you, wickedly swirling in the dense darkness that seems to now weigh you down.

You lay low, covering your ears with your paws, pawing your ears hoping to drive the laughter away but it seems to drill into your skull, making your body cold with dread. And as the laughter suddenly stops you feel eyes watching you, in a panic you look up and see a light, and behind it a lioness. Her eyes regard you with amusement, but behind it you see undertones of envy.

Her voice is silky and sweet, but it still bothered you, it was too sweet, like the honey made by the bees that live in dried corpses and bonepiles. Tainted with the sweet aroma of death.....

"You shouldn't be here, this is no place for the living..." she says, half patronizing. You explain that you've been looking for her, to help with your pride and she scoffs, "I'm no angel, nor saint, I see no reason you would want anything from me."

Her white silky hair flows as she shakes her head, seeming to be puzzled by your request and insistance. "Fine, come with me, y/n, I'll give you what you seek, but the price may not be what you're willing to pay..." her voice darkens at the end of that sentence as she turns around. As she pads away you follow her slowly, her paws make no sound o the damp earth, her light she carries swings slowly side to side, rusty metal squeaking lightly.

You clear your throat softly, but in the intense silence it sounds more like a roar and she looks back, raising her brow at you. Fur bristling in embarrasment you ask her her name and she huffs, "You seek something you don't even know the name of, it's bothersome." But answers nonetheless...

"I have no name where I come from, but you mortals call me Neoma."

/
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Word from Strikefire~ If you haven't been told today, you matter, and you're loved, don't ever think otherwise! If you need to talk, vent or need some food or toys for your pride, don't be afraid to message me <3

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