Incisors are tainted red --- haunting, carnivorous, degenerate. The blood that corrupts gluttonous jaws a testimony of the carnage they have provoked, the limp carcass of the victim pendent between them as it swung with every { poised } stride taken. She, a murderous queen lavished in gory embellishments and yet her intentions are entirely pure as she stalks towards the northern region where the Armada monarch reigns, a woman of grandeur that had easily received her rare respect with a gift to prolong her sickly brother?s life-span. Adorning the metaphorical crown of a tyrant, she intends to reimburse the queen for her selfless conduct with the only gift she has to offer --- tranquility among packs and assistance where required. The phantom deity knows not if she has slipped into the woman?s good graces; however, she intends to charm the queen as best she can. Confidence leaks from pallid pores as she approaches the borders of Tortuga?s realm, abstract gaze sweeping through the towering trees looming overhead as nerves prick beneath her flesh. Discarding her gored gift { a bloodied fawn } adjacent to oversized paws, her sloped skull tilts back in slight as ravenous jaws unlatch to unleash a guttural summons for the queen, poise immaculate yet respectful as her howl subsides and pupils search the premises for the familiar physique of her only ally.

The stirrings of the land, bother her. Queens having their crowns ripped from their heads- but surely they have proven to be unworthy? Erani has fallen, the Covari serpent claiming her throne- only to pass to her pawn. The mauled creature challenged for Athena's throne- only to walk away, dismissing his wish. The Ebony Queen had passed on her throne, and a silent question brewed in her mind. Was she next to be challenged? Should she be- she'd nearly demand they take her life, should they win. She wouldn't face defeat of her home- her pride, her empire. The sweet song of a familiar deity fills her ears, and she lifts her head from the stream she is drinking from curiously. What brought Artemis to her borders? She lowers her head again, taking in the crystalline waters, before she straightens. She only delays a few seconds before she turns, sauntering towards the very source of the sound. Her ivory body nearly floats through the familiar forest, as she approaches she smells deer- the blood is fresh in the air. She's confused slightly, but continues her approach, her face a placid neutral. As she approaches, she notices something different about Artemis- a pack scent. Her violet eyes brighten slightly, and she speaks- "Please tell me you ripped your crown from the Covari bitch?" Oh how behind on the doings of other packs she is. She halts, her tail swinging behind her, before it stills. She hopes she is right in her assumptions that Artemis wore a crown again, but- she is only assuming, and slightly praying her words are true. Speech,

The Armada queen emerges from her frozen keep with the immaculate swagger only befitting of supremacy and grandeur, and the Elysius wraith finds leathery lips { lavished in macabre embellishments } tweaking upwards in the faintest hint of a smirk. Pupils indulge in the distended physique { still pregnant? } of the admirable deity as she approaches, and her own pallid skull inclines slightly in respectful greeting. Confidence fluctuates from taut flesh and yet her poise does not reflect its typical arrogance with her incentive to charm the queen into an alliance, and she offers Roman the entirety of her attention as her gaze remains fixated upon her counterpart?s own zealous violet. Amusement filters upon her marred porcelain features as Roman?s comment infiltrates the silent atmosphere, and a dark expression soon follows suit --- portraying the malevolence obscured beneath her calm guise. ?I take it you aren?t fond of the red queen either?? is the inquiry the phantom hopes will bait the Armada into relaying her reasons, though it also sheds light upon the fact that the Covari queen is not too popular in the Elysius? biased eyes either. ?-- But no. If it is any consolation, however, I took Arcanum from her pawn, and thus created Elysium.?

'I take it you aren't fond of the red queen either?' Artemis speaks, and Roman snorts in disgust. "She's not much of a Queen." She says dryly. Roman reclines to her haunches gracefully, and huffs slightly. "I'm not convinced that she wasn't indeed behind that "epidemic"- how did she know the "cure"?" Roman growls out. She's been throwing a tantrum about this for days now, "Then, she intrudes into my forest." Roman pauses, a satisfied smirk glowing on her jaws. "I crippled her." Artemis took Arcanum? That interests the pallid queen. "Elysium? Well, I cannot deny it's nice to see you sporting a crown. You're at least comptent, and a deserving ruler." A buried compliment in her words, as she nods, a slight sign of approval. Yes, Artemis at the head of Elysius would be ever so interesting. Roman was overly interested to see what Artemis would do with her pack. "So is it politics that bring you here today?" Roman inquires, a smile pulling at her jaws. It seemed other leaders only came for political reasons. Whatever happened to small talk?

The wry grin laden upon her corrupted countenance only elongates further as the Armada sovereign voices her numerous complaints about the red queen, and although the phantom deity cannot help but succumb to the amusement Roman provides with her wrath, she surpasses the intense urge to chuckle. The idea that the Covari monarch intended to poison her peers is farfetched in the eyes of the tyrant; however, she does not voice her own opinions with the hopes that she can maintain Roman?s abhorrence towards her little demon?s mother --- no, she aspires only to add further fuel to the flame. Brows knit neatly together upon her forehead as the Tortugan queen mentions her assault upon Viridiana, and she reclines upon her own haunches to mimic Roman?s position. ?You physically crippled her? Did this entirely satisfy you?? the paladin questions curiously --- though it is an obscure attempt to insinuate further schemes against the red queen. Her expression retains its indifference and her elongated tail furls about sinewy thighs idly as Roman inflates her { overfed } ego with a compliment, and her skull tips in a tacit display of thanks. ?I was hoping to repay you for helping my brother with an alliance,? the tyrant croons, muzzle dipping down as gluttonous jaws slacken to seize her prey?s forelimb between decadent incisors, nudging the fawn in the direction of the queen. ?-- A gift.?

Roman doesn't miss the smile growing on the jaws of the ivory queen opposite her. Artemis reclines, mirroring Roman's own relaxed position, and speaks. A slight scoff escapes her, and she chuckles, lowering her head slightly to display the marred features of her once proudly flawless forehead. "I crippled her, tore into the tendons of her shoulder, yes. She left this as a token of her 'gratitude'." Slowly, she levels her head, and Roman's eyes narrow. She seethes, her words venomous. She lets out a breath, her attention shifting to Artemis's next words, and the Queen nods. "How is he- your brother?" She asks, her tone softening from the malice she expresses when discussing the Covari filth. "I won't deny, the prospect of an alliance is nearly.. thrilling. Though I must ask, how far are you willing to go to eradicate the lesser beings?" She speaks with a slightly sly tone, though she's sure Artemis is intelligent enough to grasp her meaning. A fawn is nudged in the direction of Roman, a gift, and the queen nods. "You shouldn't have." She says with a sly smile, though her eyes are warm. "I feel unprepared." She chuckles slightly.

A brow elevates curiously as the Armada queen lowers her skull, though the answer to her unspoken question is laced within the venomous explanation that follows, and her pupils trail the corrupted contours of the woman?s pallid cranium with mild intrigue. The Elysius tyrant does not see the need to fret over scars { although they do taint physical beauty } when her own countenance adorns a multitude of her own lacerations --- and they are proudly adorned as badges of honor. Haunches leave the safety of the earth as the phantom seeks to propel herself nearer to the Tortugan queen, halting only once her pale digits toe the borderlines of the other?s keep. Her disfigured muzzle inclines in the direction of Roman as she hopes to vaguely encroach upon her personal space, skull twisting and turning to grant the woman a better view of the entirety of her visage. ?They are not scars --? she begins, hoping to direct the woman?s attention to her own macabre embellishments, ?-- but testimonies of my victories.? Mismatched amethyst and silver gaze seeks to interlock briefly upon the other?s own violet before she backpedals from their proximities, hoping to have at least enlightened the woman about the BEAUTY of scars. Her brother is mentioned next, and a smile distorts the deity?s frayed lips. ?Novo is as healthy and as defiant as can be,? her vocals are laden in the faintest chortle, though it subsides with the next { unsuspected } sentiment that graces the atmosphere. ?Roman? I do not need much convincing,? the phantom voices her bedeviled croon, eyes glazing over with evident malevolence. A smirk touches her facial features as the queen accepts her gift, and although it is not much { the tyrant is a warrior, not a huntress }, she hopes it might suffice midnight cravings. ?Do not fret --- you have done enough for me.?

Her scars bothered her, illciting feelings of rage and disgust when she looks upon her otherwise flawless reflection. Artems moves, and Roman watches her- curiosity evident in her gaze, as she comes closer. Scars marr the younger woman, and Roman is curious about how she allowed her opponents to live, until the Queen speaks. Roman's ears tilt with interest, her head cocking slightly to the left. "In my family... flawlessness seems to be treasured above all else." She says softly, sharing a piece of her views with the other woman. "I think I like your views on your scars better. Trimuphs, not flaws." She says, her tone light. Yes, this is something she'll have to think about. Perhaps she is too vain? As Artemis speaks that her brother is indeed well, Roman nods and speaks with a smile. "I'm glad that he recovered." Her next words send a quiver of desire through the pallid queen, and she her eyes light up with near blood lust. "I think we can do great things together, Artemis Elysius." She acknowledges into the night. "Great and powerful things." She concludes. Her head snakes down, as she pulls the fawn's carcass towards her, her stomach growling as her jaws close around the meat. "Your gift is well received." She says, her tone sincere.

The tyrant basks beneath the intensity of the Armada?s amethyst gaze, unabashed by her own facial corruption as she allows for Roman?s pupils to roam (lol u). At the woman?s claim, she unleashes the faintest chuckle, for she does not doubt that a man as exteriorly immaculate as Isardis would treasure such trivial { and fleeting } aspects like physical beauty; though her chortles lack a mocking intent. Aside from her little dove, perhaps, the Elysius are not such nubile titans or temptresses --- they were bred for annihilation, after all, not conning various men and women to their chambers or making the subservient bow to their will with a winning smile. No --- beauty was insignificant in the eyes of the phantom, though her newest ally seemed to believe otherwise. ?Scars or not --? she muses aloud { perhaps for Roman?s sake }, a coy smile contorting bloodied lips accordingly, ?-- you are still beautiful, Miss Armada.? The rare { and uncharacteristic } compliment streams from sinful jaws in an almost timid fashion, and she briefly averts her gaze from the vibrant depths of the Tortugan queen?s own as she haphazardly searches for the fawn at Roman?s side. Once the malevolent { and vaguely so } tones of her counterpart breaches the otherwise silent atmosphere, the wraith?s pupils fixates yet again upon Roman?s own, and a dark smirk sluggishly elongates upon a visage lavished in red----decadently. ?And when you are ready to commit to such things, you need only call.? And when summoned, the phantom would fly upon her chariot of bone.

The faint chuckle that Artmeis releases is a welcome noise to the ears of the Queen, it's something she doesnt think she's ever heard come from the pallid beast. Artemis speaks, and blinks at her words. She knows she's beautiful, she's heard it from many males, but to hear such a powerful diety claim it- one not related to her or bound by blood or ties, it is a refresing compliment. A small blush tinges her cheeks, and she's thankful that the darkess around them will hopefully conceal it. Why, Artemis- you could be a charmer." She chuckles trying to deflate the compliment, though it blows up her ego. She's unsure what to say, does she dig her own compliments out for the creature who already knows she's a god in battle? No, if any wolf seems at whole in themselves, it is the queen opposite her. The conversation drifts back to darkness, and Roman lets out chuckle at the tyrants words. "Darling, you'll hear my battle cry all over this land." She practically purrs, her voice dripping in misplaced honey. Oh yes, when the Armada Queen went to take what she felt due to her from the Covari Queen, the world would hear her cries.

If the phantom were enchanting, it would be peculiarly so; and yet, she cannot help but succumb to the amusement of Roman?s wry compliment and yet again allows for a soft chuckle to filter free of velvet lips, intertwining with the Armada queen?s own soprano tones. The Elysius deity quite decidedly enjoys the company of the woman set so elegantly before her { such a rare occurrence indeed }, and it is conveyed through the lack of an assertive stance and through the benevolent aura that encumbers her pallid form --- physically manifesting with every chortle given and every grin offered upon an otherwise sinful countenance. As their laughter wanes and their conversation shifts to their fledgling schemes, the phantom feels an influx of adrenaline as it pulsates through her interior, its warmth and potential influence intoxicating for one as sinister as she. ?I look forward to it,? she vows, bowing her skull in the direction of her newest ally as she bids her a tacit farewell, limbs propelling her away from Tortuga?s proximities while her mind churned with prospects of the future. --- exeunt artemis

Finally it would seem that the conversation would draw to an end, their laughter would die and Roman would watch as the Elysiusm wolf would rise. At her words, Roman cast her a wicked grin, "It'll be one hell of a party." She agrees, her words dark. She watches as the deity fades into the darkness, her violet eyes studying her departing form. Oh, what madness she is drawning herself into, and what a delight it is becoming. Tortuga had a new ally- a friend in Elysium, and with their other budding allies, she can see only power. Dipping her head, she lifts the fawn in her jaws, before standing- dragging the corpse back into the heart of her forest. -exit roman-