— ❪ @outlawiism continued › here.
she has long since come to terms with what she is. unlike many of her kin, martha remembers what it was like. what it is to be human. she is still that person. just now, she is more. what once caused fear to course through her veins : the very idea of being a monster so terrifying a concept that then young student had adamantly rejected that part of her until it very nearly killed her - she was scared, then. and angry. and sad. but that time had passed, and her acceptance of her fate had proven liberating. it’s his kind that bother her now.
which wars with martha’s nature. her compassion. her heart aches to embrace any and all, but her wolf bares it’s teeth at the living dead. not natural. not natural. wrong. it rises within her like heat, slowly burning within her bones, itching to correct. they are natural enemies, his actions having all but ensured that. but martha jones doesn’t take to enemies like her brethren. ❝ bored, or curious. ❞ she shrugged, fingers digging in to the muscle of her bicep as she stares him down ... well, down is relative. she’s always been small, even when she was mortal. but among her kind, she is particularly slight. her wolf too.
so many have underestimated her because of it.
head tilts, braids untied and draped over her shoulders, eyes dark - but if he expects to see hostility, he will be disappointed. ❝ at least i don’t smell like death. ❞ she retorts quietly, glaring at him as she swallows a growl. jaw clenched briefly, martha rolled her shoulders and exhaled a heavy breath, rolling her eyes. ❝ whatever ... why are you here ? ... the others will come looking. it’s unfortunate, for me, that i found you first. ❞