#velnias

[dungeonsynthguide]

Velnias Farewell Songs for a Dying King (2021, WereGnome Records)

[draugai]

Malonus tas Velnias

[loo-nuh-tik]

[chernobogina]

Bless makers who make crazy shit in all eras.

[denver-heavy-metal-society]

Colorado metal band Velnias live at Zodiac Bar in Colorado Springs, March 5, 2014. Video courtesy of Denver Heavy Metal Society.

[hknightdai]

(REQUEST) Beating Bronze - House of the Dragon

Rhea Royce x Male Reader

Tags: Noncon, Oral, Face-fucking, Vaginal, Creampie, Anal, Public Sex

Request: Rhea Royce she keep acting cocky towards reader so one night reader drag her and fuck her in front people until she pass out

XXX

‘Daemon’s a lucky bastard,’ A common thought of yours these days.

Somehow, your brother managed to get his way and fuck off; leaving you to marry the so-called “Bronze Bitch” of the Vale. Admittedly, the first week wasn’t the worst. You fucked on your wedding night, left immediately afterward, then didn’t talk for the rest of the week. It’s not as if she’s unappealing, you simply didn’t know her nor had any wish to. Perhaps in the future, you’ll get to know her.

The future turned out to be a few days later.

You were returning to Runestone after riding your dragon, Velnias, when you ran into her. Or more accurately, her horse.

“So you’ve decided to stop hiding, Husband,” Rhea said, bringing her horse to a stop.

Stepping back so you don’t have to look up too much, you say blandly, “I wasn’t hiding, Dear Wife. I was merely getting used to my new surroundings.”

“Getting used to your new surroundings,” She said. “So that requires you to run from our bed once the deed is done, like a shy boy?”

She smirked down at you from atop her horse. It's fortunate you weren't your brother. Your hand twitches slightly, alongside your eye.

Flexing your jaw, you took a breath and replied.

But she quipped, “I see I’ve left the dragon silent. Maybe you ran because your “performance” was your best.”

The implication was clear enough and your face morphed into one of rage. Seeing so, Rhea laughed before riding off. That was when you found out more about your “Dear Wife.”

Those interactions would continue throughout the first week of your “marriage,” and into your second. She had certainly proven herself to be the bitch Daemon called her. The bronze part, however? No. You’d make sure her attitude went away, you just had to be rough

After some planning, you throw a feast. Certainly not what a person who wants revenge would go for, but you've got a plan.

On the day of the feast, the festivities begin early. The hall of Runestone is filled with the faces of lords and ladies you don’t know, all jolly and laughing with one another. Even your wife joins in. Good. With everyone chugging their drinks down, you mingle about, sipping from your tankard of water.

Hours pass into the late night and everyone’s drunk. Including Rhea.

Walking over to her, you grab her and say, “Come dear, you’re wasted and it’s time to sleep.”

And she very much was. Stumbling simply from your grip, she still has enough attitude to spit a response, “O-ooh look! My husband deigns to give me his presence. Even theee shy dragon has his moments.”

Lost in her drunken stupor, Rhea roars with laughter alongside those she was talking to.

Your face gives for a moment, sneering at her, and then you regain control. Smiling at the others, you tighten your grip and pull her back to your room. The trip to which, breaks you. Rhea stumbles so much that you practically drag her across the hall. You only make it a few more steps before bursting out in anger and pushing her against a nearby wall.

She lets out a shocked cry, “W-what the seven hells, Y/n!”

She goes to continue, but you wrap a hand around her throat.

You get in her face as you squeeze tightly, and hiss, “I’ve had enough of your shit, Rhea! It seems you’ve forgotten that I’m a Prince, not some minor lordling. As a Prince, I must rectify your attitude.”

Rhea grasps at your hand, weakly trying to pull it away but fail. Once her eyes start rolling back, you let go and she drops to her knees, gasping. Saliva already drips from her mouth as she coughs; screwing her eyes shut as she gulps down precious air. With her eyes closed, you drop your pants. Your cock stands stiff in the hallway.

Slightly kneeling, you grip her jaw and her hair and slam into her throat.

“KRRRGLHK! KRPHLK! KRPHLK!”

“Not so high and mighty anymore are you, Bronze Bitch?!” You hiss.

Left weak from her earlier drinks and lack of air, the proud Lady of Runestone is left grasping and clawing at the floor. Though she does try to bite down, your grip on her jaw is enough to stop any such movement. The attempt does however draw our ire.

Your fingers clench hard enough to leave bruises. The hand in her hair yanks her head back, slamming it into the wall.

“Grrglk!” She cries.

“I see I need to beat harder,” You snarl.

Her head hits against the stone with every snap of your hips. Glaring down at your “wife,” you can see how pathetic she now looks: Her eyes are screwed shut in pain with tears running down her face; spit spews from the corners of her mouth, dripping down onto her clothed breasts as they heave.

Grinning, you hilt inside her throat. Rhea’s convulsing throat brings you to the brink and you pull out. Rhea hurls and coughs as you jerk your cock until you cum on her face and tongue.

Breathing heavily, you grab her messy face with the same hand that just jerked you off, you say, “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, but still. Are tamed now, Dear Wife?”

Rhea glares up at you, her breaths coming as rasps. She sneers for a moment then tries to spit in your face. But you quickly raise the hand on her jaw to block it, getting even more spit on it. At that moment, she tries to stand but trips, her legs still wobbly from the alcohol and kneeling.

Your hand whips out and grabs the front of her shirt. Pulling her towards you, you smack her with the spit-covered one and let her fall on her stomach.

“Stupid bitch,” You say, though you expected it. “On to the next part then.”

Flipping her over, you enter a pitiful struggle as you rip her shirt open and she tries to stop you, hitting you with lackluster smacks and punches. When you get to her pants, she seems to regain some power. A kick scraps you while another nearly catches you in your exposed bits.

“RHEA!” You roar.

Your voice spooks her for a moment and you yank her pants and undergarments down as best you can. Despite your best effort, they catch on her knees before she resumes her struggle. But it’s enough for you. Grabbing her frantic legs, you squeeze them tight and bend her half.

“Yo-ou Bastard!” Rhea hisses, her breath being knocked from her with the force you used.

“It’s our child, Rhea. It’s not going to be a bastard.”

And with that, you spit on her lower lips and sink into her.

You let out a moan, not bothering to hide your pleasure as Rhea clenches her jaw, the sound of her sharp breathes is the only reaction she reluctantly gives. Pulling back, you slam into her. The smack of flesh rings out. Rhea claws the ground as you fuck into her.

“Are you enjoying my performance, dear Wife?” You taunt. “Or would you like more?”

Reach around her legs, you palm her breast, squeezing it. Rhea lets out a low whine as you pinch and pull on her nipple. By now, your cock practically slides in and out of her with how wet her cunt has become from your abuse.

“So you are liking my performance. It seems the Bronze Bitch is merely a whore with a hard shell,” You say, grinning.

Moving from her tits upward, you grab her throat, “Look at me, Rhea. Watch as your husband rapes you in your own home!”

Rhea’s face turns a shade of red before she finally opens her eyes. You take a sick pleasure from watching her mouth fall open as she gasps and drools while you fuck her. Clenching your jaw, you snap in and out of her cunt. Soon enough, your thrusts stutter and the sopping smacks die down as you hilt inside of her and fill her with your cum.

When your hand leaves her throat, you immediately have to catch yourself as you fall atop her in exhaustion.

“I…I take it that was enough for you, Rhea?” You say after a moment.

She doesn’t answer.

Looking at her, you catch a glimpse of her taking a deep breath. Then she strikes. A punch to the side of the head knocks you off of her and you go tumbling. Clenching the wound, you whip your head to see her hurriedly trying to get up as she scrambles away.

Furious, you have little trouble standing and stomping over to her.

Rhea’s barely got a foot fully on the ground before you grab the pants which are now around her ankles, and yank. She falls into the stone ground but barely manages to stop herself from faceplanting. She pushes herself up before you grip her brown mane and force her face into the ground.

She cries out as you hiss in her ear, “I was teaching you a fucking lesson, bitch! But it’s clear I need to stop holding back.”

“Beating a drunk enemy, you’re real tough, Bastard!” She barks, glaring at you in the corner of her eye.

Sneering, you spit in her face. As Rhea clenches her eye shut from the stinging pain. With both arms in one hand and her hair in the other, you yank her to her feet before marching her down the hall, back to the feast.

“You damn fool!” She yells, seeing where you’re taking her. “They’ll never stand for this. You’ll be dead before the sun rises.”

“I’m certain those fuckers are too drunk to even stumble towards me. And if not, well.” You shrug. “Velnias should be enough of an incentive to sit the fuck down.”

Once the hall is in sight, you have to struggle to keep your bitch from escaping your hold. Yanking her into the doorway, it takes a few moments before anyone notices but when they do there are mixed reactions. Some gawk at the sight of their friend/lady almost fully naked, her clothes being either around her ankles or torn apart, barely hanging onto her. While others, the more agreeable ones, laugh and howl in drunken amusement. Then there are the yelling ones.

“What’s wrong, my lords?” You shout in merriment. “Can’t the freshly married enjoy some fun with their friends?”

You clench Rhea’s arms and quietly hiss, “Go along with it, bitch. I die, Velnias goes wild.”

You can see her work her jaw side to side before purposefully slurring her words, “Enjooy yourselves. We cerinlly will!”

And the merry howl as the gawkers merely shrug and continue on, though some do still gawk. And the yellers, well they aren’t happy. Some leave, but many just laugh, so lost in the alcohol they won’t likely remember. But Rhea will.

Tuging her along to the head table, you slam into the side of it, giving everyone a great view of your cock rubbing between Rhea’s cheeks. Grabbing a tankard of wine, you drink some before spitting it onto her back and ass.

Rhea sharply inhales, “You fu-”

She almost gives the game away but stops herself.

Rhea trembles beneath your touch as you rub the alcohol against her asshole.

“How about next time you decide to mouth off, you remember this night, Rhea,” You mutter.

Pulling back, you slam into her wet cunt before pulling out and slamming into her tight hole. Rhea’s eyes go wide and she tries to muffle her scream. Veins pop out along her neck as her face goes red from the strain.

With your grip on her arms still in place, you use it as leverage as you pull back and slam back into her. Showing her no mercy, your cock stretches her ass open wide as you fuck her in front of everyone. Rhea tries to hide her face away against the table, but the raucous laughter is a constant reminder of the audience.

Your cock practically saws in and out of her, but despite how uncomfortable it is, her hot ass clings to you tighter than anything else. You can’t help slamming back into her.

For a few moments, there are no words between you two, just the labored breaths of you two.

Despite the pleasure, you grab the tankard of wine again. Tilting it over your wife, you drench her in it. From head to toe, wine drips from her shaking form as she whines from the pleasure and pain.

One of the men quips, “She must be thirsty!”

“You’re damn right!” You shout back.

Rhea’s breathing quickens as she quakes. The shame of this act combined with the fucking itself, leaves her in shock. Unable to hold back any longer, you feel her ass clench around you as she lets out a croaking moan and squirts onto the floor before falling unconscious on the table.

Caught unsuspecting, you let out a groan and fill her ass to the brim.

Once you've caught your breath, you look out to the room of merry men. You notice many groping their partners while other men lay unconscious themselves.

“It seems I’ve fucked the Bronze Bitch unconscious!” You bellow into laughter.

In the coming days, many don’t recall much of the night, which is good. But Rhea does. She remembers every instant of your punishment, which is good. You don’t think a second public performance is going to go as well as last time.

Oh well, at least the Bronze Bitch has learned her lesson.

[ri47]

I've always thought of pygmalions as looking like mecha sized flood infection forms, what do they actually tend to look like?

A pygmalion can vary in shape a good bit, being a fleshcrafted construct, although you can group most into three categories. These aren't comprehensive, because there are already a few that fall outside of these categories, but they are generally the ones you see

Loose Gore Configuration - Kinda self-explanatory, but that's more or less what you're thinking of here. These tend to be the result of pygmalions made from clonestock made specifically to be fodder for lesser pygmalions (ie jackals and thralls) or other sources where the component souls don't really have a strong (or any) developed sense of self. A pygmalion's form is defined in part by the plurality of its internal contradictions and substantiations, so the form tends to be less coherent when the totality of its being is a resounding ambivalence to the world. These ones are usually encased in armour that gives them a shape. Additionally, those considerations often including a cage for the non-vessel pilot, to buy them time for rescue in the event the pygmalion turns and attempts to rip them out. Loose Gore pygmalions can in many cases be identical to other constructs, such as necromatrices, because Ayin/Azoth/Divine Flesh that isn't given shape will default towards a purpose-fulfilling shifting mass of gore

Borovit Configuration - This is the form of the vast majority of true pygmalions and the one that is most immediately recognisable as a mecha. They trend towards looking humanoid, but usually show signs of insectoid anatomy. Borovit configuration pygmalions come in a range of body types and forms, not to mention various sizes, but most could, for example, pick up and utilise a sword designed to-scale with them. It's worth mentioning that some lesser pygmalions land on a gradient between Borovit and Loose Gore, but for a pygmalion to qualify as the former, they need to maintain a consistent physical form with an internal configuration (what exactly is inside can vary, be it pseudo-organs, bones, muscles, or what have you) that is capable of regenerating to its original form provided there is sufficient ferrous humor.

Velnias Configuration - Velnias pygmalions resemble enormous non-human animals, yet still maintain the sort of anatomical structures you would expect to see on a Borovit pygmalion. They tend towards looking like avians and reptiles, but it's not uncommon to see one that leans more towards arthropod features. More rare, but not unheard-of, are Velnias pygmalions with aquatic or mammalian forms. Unlike Borovit, Velnias configurations sometimes manifest in lesser pygmalions with no element of ambiguity towards Loose Gore. What exactly leads to a Velnias pygmalion is unclear, with some theories being that they're the result of strong emotions in sacrificed souls without articulate beliefs, but that's not exactly substantiated in any meaningful way. Velnias pygmalions seemingly cannot be made on purpose.

[unhonestlymirror]

Velnias (Devil) by Eglė Abariūnienė

[ambercast]

where: art festival who: lizzie velnias (@lizzievelnias)

Jack should've been looking where he was going, but in his defense the young woman was quite small and currently covered in an armload of crocheted stuffed animals. When he did stumble into her, he quickly stepped back, shaking his hair out of his face with a frown as he noticed a few stuffies had fallen.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered, bending to pick them up and brush the dirt off them.

[thirtecnth]

@lizzievelnias / closed starter / lizzie velnias setting: sammie's place

"Did you know that you are the most beautiful girl in this entire bar?" Winnie said, leaning across the bartop toward her best friend. "You're the highlight of my night and I've given out 4 hurricane shots tonight."

[hildathesaint]

Perkūnas

The Lithuanian god of Thunder

Attributes: lighting, storms, the sky, an axe or sledgehammer

Animals: goat

Plants: oak

Colours: black, white, grey

The sky deity of the Baltic religion, Perkūnas, is regarded as a fertility god and the guardian of law and order apart from being the god of thunder and lightning. Perkūnas is the most important Lithuanian god, and is the central figure in the Pantheon. The oak, which is the tree most frequently struck by lightning, is regarded as sacred to him.

Perkunas is usually depicted as a middle-aged man riding a two-wheeled cart with goats. In some accounts, the thunder god is seen driving a flaming horse or a cart of white and red horses through the skies. He would be identified by the constellation of Ursa Major.

On his heavenly chariot, Perkunas is holding a goat with one hand while he uses an axe or horn on the other.

Mythology

Folklore usually emphasises that Perkūnas is a patron of weather, he lives between the heaven and the earth in the clouds, he commands the thunder and lightning. Thus Perkūnas occupies the centre of the structure of the universe, becomes the master of the atmosphere (Perkūnas is correspondingly associated with the heaven and the devil - Velnias with the earth, underground, water). Perkūnas possesses a two-wheeled cart harnessed by two goats or horses , and rides through the sky , the sound of the wheels often causes thunder. Perkūnas strikes and chases the devil or devils, though often it is said that this animosity is based on personal grounds because of a certain act the devil committed (theft, insult, abduction of Vaiva, as mentioned below).

An important function of Perkūnas is to fight Velnias. He is sometimes considered the antithesis of Perkūnas and is the god of the underworld and death. Christianity considers "Velnias" akin to their "devil", though this is not in line with ancient beliefs.

Perkūnas pursues his opponent, Velnias, for picaroon or theft of fertility and cattle. Velnias hides in trees, under stones, or turns into various animals: a black cat, dog, pig, goat, lamb, pike, cow or a person to avoid Perkūnas.

Perkūnas pursues an opponent in the sky on a chariot, made from stone and fire (Lithuanian ugnies ratai). Sometimes the chariot is made from red iron.

Perkūnas possesses many weapons. They include an axe or sledgehammer, stones, a sword, lightning bolts, a bow and arrows, a club, and an iron or fiery knife. Perkūnas is the creator of the weapons (Akmeninis kalvis, "the stone smith") or he is helped by the heavenly smith Televelis (Kalvelis).

Perkūnas simultaneously is given the function of the patron of fertility, when he rolls his thunder for the first time in spring the grass starts growing, the processes of vegetation begin, Perkūnas also appears in the wedding symbolism. One other function of Perkūnas is keeping justice. He chases devils but he also punishes bad people, fights evil spirits and keeps the order of the universe.

According to ancient tradition, people who were struck by lightning were protected from devils. The objects that were struck by lightning were also used to cure various ailments, such as fever, toothache, and anxiety. Perkūnas is thus seen as a god of healing as well as destruction.

In some songs Perkūnas, on the way to the wedding of Aušrinė (dawn; the daughter of the Sun), strikes a golden oak. The oak is a tree of the thunder god in the Baltic mythology. Lithuanian Perkūno ąžuolas or Latvian Pērkona ozols ("oak of Perkūnas") is mentioned in a source dated to the first half of the 19th century.

Perkūnas is also connected to Thursday. Thursday is the day of the Thunderer in many traditions: compare Polabian Peräune-dǻn ("day of Perun"), Lithuanian Perkūno diena. Perkūnas is associated with the Roman god Jupiter in early sources. Thursday is a day of thunder-storms and rains, and also of weddings.

Family

In most myths, Perkūnas’s wife is Žemyna, the goddess of the earth. In some myths, Perkūnas would expel his wife and children and then remain in the sky by himself. The reason for this is that Perkūnas was given the responsibility of the stones in the sky whose rumbling and rubbing against each other tend to generate thunder and lightning during storms.

In songs about a "heavenly wedding" Saulė is married to Perkūnas amd cheats on Perkūnas with Mėnulis (the Moon); Perkūnas splits Mėnulis in half with a sword, which accounts for the moon phases we see today.

According to another, more popular version, Mėnulis cheats on the Sun with Aušrinė (the morning star) just after the wedding, and Perkūnas punishes him. However, he does not learn and repeats the adultery and is punished again every month. Other explanations say it is why the Sun shines during the day and the Moon at night. Though divorced, both want to see their daughter Žemyna (the Earth).

Some stories claim that Perkūnas and a woman known as Vaiva or the rainbow were supposed to get married but the bride was kidnapped by Velnias, the god of the underworld. Since then, Perkūnas has been hunting Velnias. Some stories also claim that there are four sons of Perkunas who are representative of the four seasons or the four cardinal directions. Sometimes there are seven or nine Perkūnai referred to as brothers. It is said in Lithuanian "Perkūnų yra daug" ("there are many thunders").

[thecorpselight]

Indo-European structure of the Baltic pantheon hinges heavily on a correct appreciation and interpretation of Patollus-Pecullus. Christian demonology found him exploitable yet did not quite know what to do with him. He was a demon of the underworld and leader of the host of the dead in the skies, hellish and aerial at the same time. This hesitation helps piece together his original nature. He has a Lithuanian allonym Velinas (Velnias, Vels, nowadays 'devil'), which is cognate with veles 'ghosts' and with the ancestral goddess Veliuona; Szyrwid's dictionary of 1629 already equates Velnias with 'Piktis'. In Lithuanian folklore Velinas is the one-eyed, prophetic, treacherous, raging god of the veles who fight, hunt, and march in the skies; he is also the lord of hanging and the hanged. This dossier is ample to permit a typological comparison with both the one-eyed Hangagud Odin and the Old German Wutanes her. Beneath the death-god described by Simon Grunau and revived by Gunter Grass and the devil of demonology and folklore, we find a principal figure of the Baltic pantheon, whose name Pecullus has the same "rage" meaning that inheres in Odin, and whose parallel name Velinas is best connected with Old Norse valr, denoting the host of the slain. The presence of such a magical, death-oriented high god in close complementarity with the ruling thunder-god seems to be typical of several contiguous nothern European subgroups (cf: Odin : Thor and perhaps Esus : Taranis); Patollo's white headcloth may indeed be the missing link connecting Odin's floppy hat with Rudra's turban in India. Comparative Mythology. Jaan Puhvel.

[ancestorsalive]

Lithuania : Birute Hill near Palanga, Lithuania, was once home to paleo astronomical observatories. Restored in 1998, the Samogitian Sanctuary is a recreation of a Pagan observatory from the Middle Ages. This northern Lithuanian group of statues is based on artifacts found at the site of a prehistoric astronomical observatory and shrine that stood til the 16th century.

During the key calendar holidays, Lithuanian people would carve wooden poles that correlate to the Balts' gods and goddesses. These Gods and Goddesses are Perkūnas, Aušrinė, Žemyna, Austėja, Ondenis, Patrimpas, Patulas, Velnias, Leda, Saulė and Mėnulis.

[forthedyingbeautiful]

Velnias - Rending of Dyadic Convolution EP

Starting off life in 2006 from Nederland in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado; Velnias were born. Starting off early on they were pert near a Wolves In The Throne Room clone. Thankfully, they have progressed and grown and added more influences and personal touches with each subsequent release.

"Rending of Dyadic Convolution" is their brand new three song EP. Where the bookend tracks are literally just an intro and outro. While the main track of this affair is eight and some minutes of Velnias taking "the path of intense cinematic imagery, capturing a stunning monolithic visual..."(per their bandcamp) The real meat of this EP here starts off sounding almost identical to Isis and then just builds and builds from there. Adding in layers and layers of influence and their own personal touches until it reaches critical mass. A jumble of Post-Metal, Post-Black/Black Metal, Doom and Shoegaze all intermingling in a gorgeous cacophony of wonderment.

While I would consider this more of a single than an EP per say, with the opening and closing tracks just being all part of the whole but none of that really matters. For whatever this piece of art is called in the end; art is truly what it is. And beautiful, disodant, lush, layered and chaotic piece of art at that. 

[lizzievelnias]

Lizzie at a Glance

"I'm okay with my crazy"

NAME: Elizabeth Corie Velnias ALIASES: Lizzie - call her Elizabeth and she’ll set you on fire.  Only her mom called her that and she hates the name with a passion  AGE: 27 [Born October 9th] OCCUPATION: Locker attendant at Abs-olutely Gym ARRIVED: Mid April 2024 GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Female, She/Her SEXUALITY: Demi QUIRKS: Emotionally stunted; Lizzie tends to act far younger than she really is.  She loves dying her hair different colors; Winnie jokes its to help them stay in hiding but really she just likes all the colors. Green is her current color.  Her entire vibe is pastel goth.  While on the run she found a black rabbit plushie and has held on to it ever since; it is her most treasured possession. Crippling claustrophobia thanks to her mother.  She’s actually a very good skateboarder. Has a rare early-onset schizophrenia that involves the hallucination of a black rabbit named Peter.

BIOGRAPHY

Lizzie was always different from the other kids.  Maybe it was because there were rumors in town of her family being devil worshipers.  The other children would always stare at her, whispering to one another.  Sometimes they would throw rocks, calling her a demon.  This was a god-fearing town after all.

Sometimes the rumors get it right.  Her parents, especially Mother, cared more about their satanic group than their own daughter.  And so, Lizzie was left to fend for herself, playing with her dolls quietly in her room.  She always had to be quiet.  Do as Mother wanted.  If not, she had to stay the night in the cupboard, and Lizzie never liked that.  It was dark, and scary, and full of spiders.

At nine years old things started to change.  Lizzie heard voices vibrating through the walls. It kept her up late at night, unable to sleep with all the noise. On one such sleepless night, she was surprised when everything went quiet. Removing the blanket from over her head, she looked around her room and was surprised to see a small black rabbit sitting on her desk chair. Even more surprising, he began to talk to her!

Crawling out of bed, Lizzie sat on the floor as she looked up in veneration at the rabbit. They talked all through the night and for the first time since she could remember, the little girl didn't feel alone. She now had a new best friend named Peter.

~~~

Every night for two weeks, Peter would appear in her room, and they would talk and play.  Lizzie made sure to keep her voice down, so her parents wouldn’t come barging in.  Peter made Lizzie felt heard.  Felt loved.

They would talk about anything and everything.  About how the town’s children treated her, about how her parents ignored her.  Peter had an idea.  She should make them pay.  Teach them a lesson for being so mean.  That was a great idea!  Lizzie was willing to do anything Peter told her.  She loved him with all her heart.

Gathering up all she could in her backpack, Lizzie said goodbye to her room one last time. Following Peter's instructions, she set the living room curtains on fire and ran off into the night.

~~~

The newspapers said it was a great disaster.  Some loose electrical wiring had sparked a fire, and in the crisp autumn air the blaze spread.  The town didn’t stand a chance.  It was too small to have their own fire station.  No one survived, save for a little girl found wandering down the highway alone.

She was immediately placed in a group home in the outskirts of Toronto. It was okay. The people there weren't great, but they were still better than her parents. The other kids kept away from Lizzie, but as long as she had Peter she didn't mind too much. Still, the next several years were lonely.

It was only when Lizzie was 13 did she finally make another friend. Winnie was new, the other kids didn't like her either, and she didn't think it was weird that Lizzie talked to Peter. With the other girl being a year older, she took on kind of an older sister role for Lizzie. With their strengths combined, the two decided they would rather try their chances outside the group home. Just them against the world.

For the last 13-14 years Lizzie, Winnie, and Peter have traveled across Canada and the US, surviving off of lying and stealing. Usually Winnie was the brains and Lizzie was the daredevil, not afraid of anything so long as she had her two best friends. Her family. There were times when things got dangerous, and Lizzie was often the first to spring into action, embracing the "kill or be killed" mentality Peter whispered to her. Sometimes she yearned to do more, to hunt instead of simple self defense for her and Winnie, but with her sister by her side Lizzie ignored those urges.

It was by pure coincidence that the pair ended up in Huntsville. They agreed the commune was the best place to stay. It was a setup familiar to them. Though Lizzie could admit she wasn't super smart, she did notice a lot of things. And at the commune she noticed how some people seemed to hang around and talk in whispers. It made her curious, excited. Even Peter felt like it was a new game for them to play.