He had witnessed her defeat of the Vahallan empress, and pride burned in his gut. He would give her time to stake her claims, before he would approach her borders, his demeanor inquisitive and nearly needing to seek her presence. His body quivered at the thought of her, the little wraith had claimed herself a crown. It was an impressive feat for the yearling, and perhaps it was even more impressive that the ivory sorceress had impressed even him. It would seem that the dame had chosen the forest where her mother had whelped the last litter, his litter. It was an intriguing choice and he wondered her motives. Was it an affinity for the landscape or a deeper meaning, a tribute to the dead queen? His pallid form would come to a halt, at the borders of the forest, wondering if he dared trapeze over them? To offend the great new empress, or not? As he mulled it over, his tail would dust the ground behind him, flicking impatiently. Deciding it best to gauge the protectiveness of his obsession over her land, he would sit. His haunches reclining easily to the ground, the warm air helping the slight arthritis that was building in his hips. A loose baritone howl would leave his jaws, a summons for the ruler the champion of this newly claimed land. Had she claimed the same den her mother had once dominated? What had become of his children? Had they already fled to the side of their ruling sister, seeking an obnoxious form of power? He would fall silent, his expression curious as he waited for her arrival. He wouldn't sit for more than moments, moving to his paws and pacing the border, his tail ticking at his back like a banner. When would the grand queen, Artemis make her appearance or would he have to seek her himself. Speech,

gonna go ahead and set this immediately after the challenge.

Injuries wound their way around her pale and robust physique, serving as physical indicators to her potency; she had stood, victorious, over a broken nation after laying waste to both russet-masked women that had dared to oppose her, and now adorned the metaphorical crown of a budding kingdom. None of the former Valhallans had taken to her rule, leaving her lack of a body to govern, but determination and ever-increasing ambition forced the pallid banshee to scheme up recruitment methods?she had no intentions of failing now and truly believed that she would obtain success with relentless work towards one of her numerous goals. Failure was not an option and she would not make it so?she would succeed, if not for her mother and family, then for herself. Baritone vocals that demanded her attention would extract the wraith from the confines of her temporary den, causing her stomach to lurch with discontent at the knowledge of which dastardly creature it belonged to?why had her mother?s plaything sought her presence? Disgruntled, the prodigy would saunter towards the borders, composed despite the pain that radiated from her fresh injuries, half-expecting to happen upon the brute sooner than later for he didn?t appear to be the patient type. Alas, his behemoth form meandered into view as she approached the borders, causing a sly smirk to expand across her gored countenance as she scrutinized him beneath her critical eye. ?Creedance Voltaire, respecting my boundaries?? she inquired, speech laden with feigned confusion as she halted, warily, before him. The hellion didn?t appear to possess an ounce of mal-intent and yet, she found herself completely suspicious of him?after all, he hadn?t developed a positive impression with the tyrant based upon their previous encounters, so she felt no need to place her trust in his corrupted paws just yet.

He was enthralled. Did the young daughter of his one time lay realize the appeal she had? Something about her intrigued him, it drew him to her. When she appeared, his eyes trained on her, watching every step that she took. His oddly colored eyes noted her wounds, and he felt mixed feelings at the sight of them. Pride and attraction of course, but also worry. The mix of emotions felt strange and misplaced to him. Her words brought a smirk to his jaws, she seemed surprised that he had respected her borders. "Does that mean I have permission to trespass?" He intoned with a sultry tone. His attention would shift to her body his eyes moving over her frame, a moment would pass to offer her time to reply to his question before he would speak again. "You're wounded.". His tone would shift to a slight tone of concern, though he would make no move on it. He was beyond baffled at himself. His eyes would leave her frame, wandering to look around her, pausing for a moment on a feather that littered the ground, before his gaze would move back to her, watching and waiting to see what she would say to him. Another question probed his mind, "Any of my bastard spawn arrived to see your kingdom?" That was his way of asking her about their welfare- their well-being. Speech,

ooc: i was waiting on the dm stuff to make my cerb reply to that thread, so its next on my list. yee. :3 awkward cree is awkward.