Let me talk about my meow meow Nanthilde Griffo.
She only knows her little brother. She is devoted to him. To his wellbeing. He is her everything in this unfair and cruel world.
They were sold as toddlers to faes who want to see human children fighting in the arena. Nanthilde's first memory is a knife in her hand and blood soaking the sand. The audience likes young Nanthilde. She gives a wonderful show when she lungs at her unfortunate opponent and bites and tears the trachea off with her bare teeth.
Nanthilde and her brother are frequently sold to yet another roster. The blood on her lips is the only stable thing.
Eventually Nanthilde is 13. Her pubescent body attracts attention. She is sold, again, but alone this time, to someone who wants to put her in his bed. Before her last fight he puts her in a muzzle, intending to file down her teeth after that. He bought her for the thrill of the taming.
Her last fight is against her brother. She keeps her muzzle. She makes it quick. Painless. And she runs away with the body.
And she prays she prays she prays. She calls the gods for help.
For them to answer for once in her life.
Tresophta God of Death hears.
Her brother gasps for air. He lives. He doesn't remember anything. Only his name and hers.
They are taken in by the Inquisition. They are given shelter, education, safety, food, and a purpose.
So she does what she has always done. She fights. But now, she fights the people who wronged her. She fights the faes. She fights the witches and the warlocks and the spellcasters to protect the people. To protect everyone. Not to let anyone face what she went through.
She prays to the gods everyday now that she knows they're here and they're on her side.
She can't sleep at night without knowing where her brother is.
She can't sleep at night without the muzzle on.
kaledo-art
stormborns
blakekathryn
prguitarman
