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 Posted: Tue Jul 18, 2006 5:07 pm
 This is the private journal of Cusith and his owner, Mythee. Please respect the rules the journal owner has laid down!
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Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 12:58 pm
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Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 12:59 pm
Cusith's acquaintances, friends and enemies.
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Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 1:00 pm
Extra Cusith stuff n' art
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Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 1:05 pm
-------Cusith's journal.--------
The thoughts and memories of Cusith.
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Posted: Thu Aug 24, 2006 8:03 am
The air was fresh and moist, but he was sleeping against something very warm, almost feverish. He could smell blood, but his nose wasn't wrinkled up. The blood did not worry him; it was something else... a dread that lingered within him for things to come. A sweet feminine voice was singing, melancholic, sad; while the birds and crickets chirped and twittered quietly in the morning... He felt good, but not relaxed. Opening his eyes, he looked towards the woman. She was young; and had lost her husband to him. She was slowly undoing the braids on his long tail, while chanting something in the ancient celtic language.
"It won't work." He said with a low growling voice, laying his head back down on the dirt. The tail bound him with a powerful curse to service to a force he could not refuse. No matter how much he tried, nothing would work. But it made him glad that the woman cared...
She paused, swallowed- she blinked, and glitters slipped down her soiled cheeks from the corners of her eyes. He had made her cry, he had killed her family, he had seperated her from her child. But she didn't blame him.
"You poor, poor creature... If only..." Her voice dissapeared, replaced by the noisy gait of a hyena in autumn leaves.
Cusith woke up. It was another one of these dreams... he was not superstitious, but perhaps he had a past life... and without magic, unless it was an impossibly well elaborated prank, his braids would not exist. They were a constant reminder of these dreams, a constant sign of what his eternal fate shall be. But he had to forget all about this, every day; wonder as he may during the night, a hyena has to work for the survival of his pack, a hyena has to serve the queen. At this his snout wrinkled up further, since he'd been frowning already since awakening.
And off he trudged into the daylight, and forgot everything.
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