"Your Ruler Has Risen Again..." [GuildMaster Return/Open]

It had been a month, maybe longer since Famine had been struck down and beaten an inch within her life and then seized by the capitol, secured in solitary confinement. The blackness, the inability to move, had psychologically developed and maddened her. All the guild master did for weeks was think, and think within the cell of her own cruel mind... Having had the time to give it more tough Famine truly realized she hated the legals for putting there; for everything else. Fairy Tail, Heero Reyold... All the master of the faeries had doune when he so brutally leapt into attack was adjudicate her, her guild, the alliance at her shoulders. Her views of Fairy Tail weren't pleasant before but this is where bad blood began. Since then she'd escaped under a interesting set of circumstances and aid but that was a tale for another time... She was headed home.

Famine's form arched slightly against the pressure of the blowing snow, the force of the wind. Sapphire hues half squinted ahead only to look around at the next pace she took, everything five feet in front of her had been obstructed by an outrageously shivering white haze. The goosebumps on her arms and the ones down her spine spiked, she felt she was close, she had to of been. It was that moment, as she fluttered her lashes to blink away the snow the silhouette of the building bled through the blizzard.

Then there was an explosion of thunder like a sonic boom and she instinctively cringed, nails clawing into her raw skin where she clutched her arms for warmth. Dark blizzarding clouds, pregnant with malice, churned and roiled. They looked as vaporous as mist and as fleecy as black wool through the sheets of snow hailing down. Thundersnow. While It wasn't a new concept to Famine the malevolence of such a winter storm amused her. A ghost of  smile touched at the corner of her mouth. Of all places the storm had pushed over their guildhall, how befitting.

Famine hurried to the extent she could in the ice storm for she had no intent to be struck down by the bolts lighting upon the blustery sky overhead. Trailing through the sleet The petite fem made he way to the towering doors of the fort. She pressed her frost bitten palms against the surface, lurched her weight forward to push them open unaware of what it was she may find inside upon her long desired return.