~Summary~
In a world where supernatural creatures stalk the night, Larkspur, a Wendigo with an insatiable hunger, navigates a solitary existence defined by her primal needs and tormented past. Bound by an ancient curse and driven by a relentless cra...
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The desert stretched out in endless waves of golden sands, each dune a mirror of the last, bathed in the harsh glare of the sun. Here, in this unforgiving expanse, life was sparse and survival a daily battle. The wind whispered through the arid landscape, carrying tales of ancient curses and forgotten souls. It was in this desolate place that a creature both feared and revered roamed, her name spoken in hushed tones by those who dared to acknowledge her existence.
Larkspur, they called her, a name that belied the terror she embodied. Of Middle Eastern descent, her skin was kissed by the sun, her eyes a piercing green, sharp and calculating. Her hair, a cascade of auburn curls, framed a face both haunting and alluring, adorned with a death mask that concealed her true nature.
The transformation had been gradual as she reached adulthood, a descent into a monstrous existence driven by insatiable hunger and the curse of the Wendigo. Antler-like horns now adorned her hairline, a grotesque crown that marked her as something other than human. Beneath her mask, eight large teeth lay hidden, waiting to tear into the flesh of her prey. Her strong jaw and button nose gave her an almost innocent appearance, a cruel irony given the horrors she wrought.
Despite her short stature, Larkspur's presence was commanding, her figure and full lips a stark contrast to the deadly predator she had become. A mole on her upper lip added a touch of charm, a remnant of her former self. But it was her eyes, sharp and green, that betrayed her true nature, reflecting a soul lost to the endless hunger that consumed her.
Larkspur wandered the desert, a nomad in a barren land, her every step a testament to her confusion and sense of being lost. Blunt and nonchalant, she seemed almost indifferent to the world around her, save for the moments when her hunger drove her to hunt. Her prey, always human, had to be terrified, for it was fear that seasoned their flesh, making it palatable to her discerning tastes. Her favorite meal was liver, the texture and flavor a rare delicacy in her cursed existence.
To those who fell under her spell, she smelled of death, a scent that heralded their doom. But to Rai, her Rai, a figure from her past, she smelled of strawberry milk, a bizarre comfort amidst the horror. Larkspur's diet was as peculiar as her existence, her picky nature demanding only the finest, most terrified morsels. She indulged in blue candy, a weird yet satisfying craving that reminded her of a time before the curse. Pink was her favorite color, though she avoided wearing it, lest she stand out in the desert's monotone expanse. Crunchy chips were a small joy, their sound reminiscent of bones breaking, a familiar comfort in her dark world.
In the scorching heat of the day, Larkspur often napped, finding solace in the fleeting moments of rest. Her dreams were a chaotic blend of memories and desires, a labyrinth of confusion and loss. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the sands, Larkspur would awaken, her senses sharp, her hunger renewed. The desert night was her domain, a canvas on which she painted her legend in blood and fear.
In the endless sands of the desert, Larkspur roamed, a creature caught between two worlds, forever searching for something she could never quite grasp. And as the wind howled through the dunes, those who listened closely could hear her name whispered in the darkness, a chilling reminder of the horrors that lay hidden beneath the desert's golden surface.
