spookyloki's Clan

+clan of the fever dreamers+
loki + 23 + they+he

lair: a mess
lore: in progress



need:
eternal youth x2
wine/driftwood/thicket + cream/peach/peach + oilslick/oilslick/lavender + robin/aqua/blush + blush/cottoncandy/robin + ice/ice/crimson + gold/gold\obsidian/carmine
filigree + algae/swamp/moss/nature + mist/mint/white + sky/navy/jungle + orca/pistachio + sky/magenta/sunshine + coal/hickory/spring

xxx of: red / orange / yellow / green / blue / indigo / purple / black / white / grey / brown



+++

You wander, visions of red soil and sun-sick weeds swimming through your vision. You no longer know who you are. You are trapped in your own consciousness. You cannot sleep.
And then you are found. In a nest soft and warm, not unlike flesh, an open sore that heals quickly after you wake. You can smell the plague, thick and unyielding, but as you inhale the pathogen-laden air, it does not hurt you. Rather, it becomes you. Immune.
You look down at your claws, your scales. There's no physical difference but you can feel something under your skin. There's a heat that you didn't have before. There's memories of recovery, though when you think back, all you know is this life, this wicked plague plain.
You look around you for the first time. Through your tainted gaze, you can see that you are surrounded.
They are all fever dreamers, like yourself.