Despite the changing season, the sun was relentless in this dead wasteland. The sky was blanche and white hot, the horizon a rippling mirage that would confuse anyone's depth perception. There was no destination in sight, just lolling hills and mounds of fine sand that changed shapes and sizes with the sinuous currents of wind. A stranger walked the sweltering ridges of dirt. She was the colour of sifting sands in Egypt, the colour of the currency that dances in men's dreams, with venomous eyes that scream volumes of sin. She sauntered with a purpose, her shoulders taught with an unintelligible stress, the beautiful features on her face molded into an emotionless scowl. Phases of her mother were haunting her, swift personality changes that she could not recognize. Her dark silhouette was hovering her movements, and Karmen was stuck between feeling thrilled and repulsed by her ghastly presence. Just a figment of her imagination, but such a suffocating figment she was. She needed a name, she needed the fame that was destined to become hers. But who would she take with her into the fire? There must have been another out there who yearned to walk as an immortal amongst the other dogs in the world. ---------------------------------------------------------------- ooc:sorry it is so shorttttt talking to you

Azalea found herself walking the desert once again. She had been here recently but usually avoided the dry place, favoring lands with grass and water features. So why was she drawn here lately? Perhaps it was the bleak feeling that had taken hold of the heir. She knew her pack was going to war and there was little she could do to stop it. Would she even be allowed to fight? There wasn't much more she could do to keep herself from releasing her anger onto someone. She would have her day or battle and Azalea would accept whatever came after. She came over a rise, eyes finding a shape on the next ridge. Amber eyes closed and opened and closed and opened. She couldn't be sure the wolf was not a mirage, so perfectly blended into the landscape. Licking her chops she rushed down the slope, legs bracing with each step to give her some stop against the sand that gave way. In the valley she stumbled once before making up the rise. Close to the wolf now she called out. "What manner of eye trick are you, strange wolf?" Her words were spoken loud, to carry up to the wolf. Green eyes, sandy coat, and a liver nose. For as simple as she was, Azalea could not recall ever meeting a wolf that looked like her. She had certainly never met a wolf with a liver colored nose. Black noses, pink noses, and even spotted noses were not all that uncommon. Speech,

The quiet whispers of shifting sands did not readily catch her attention, for Karmen was too enthralled in her own glorified fantasies. With a wet lick of jaws, she day-dreamed of diamonds. An inquiry from a passerby almost went unnoticed until a flash of red attracted the corner of eye. The female's body was a combination of pale coffee-creamers, milky and subtle, while her entire skull had been set afire with contrasting blood-reds. Her warm eyes were inviting and wary at the same time, but her sudden interest in the succubus caused a mean simper to touch her gold lips. "Eye trick? It's unparalleled genetics," she purred, rolling her shoulders in a shrug, as if being so simply elegant was a chore. The stranger in front of her was one of the first females she had come across in the expansive land of Alacritis. Then again, Karmen wasn't surprised, as her beauty acted as a breeding ground for hormonally-raging men. "What brings you out here? Misery, contemplating suicide? Perhaps you're stumped on how to gain your own kingdom?" She muttered the latter as she rolled her eyes, plastering a smile on her face as her charm began to seep from her pores.

"Eye trick? It's unparalleled genetics," The apparition looked at Azalea with a smile on her face. The emotion there was one that confused her, unable to tell what the wolf was thinking or feeling. Her words left the red-head speechless. It was certainly an interesting response and she really didn't know what she was expected to say in return. "Well, congratulation," She almost wanted to say, her mind frustrated with not knowing what the wolf before her was playing at. "What brings you out here? Misery, contemplating suicide? Perhaps you're stumped on how to gain your own kingdom?" Her head cocked as the wolf again cracked a smile, seeming almost charming now. Her words however were anything but charming. "None of those things. Have you met many wolves that are miserable, contemplating suicide, or stumped on how to get a kingdom?" She played the words back at the wolf, wondering what sort of answer she would get. With a soft, almost inaudible, exhale she lifted her crown higher. "I am Azalea Adravendi, Heir to Valhalla. I have no reason to be any of the things you mentioned." Even without her title Azalea wouldn't be thinking about killing herself or be miserable or be trying to figure out how to win a kingdom. She would be charming the pants off the masses and with her youth, she had much time to get a kingdom of her own.

The red-headed female was speechless, as most were when coming across an unimaginable beauty like Karmen. She was immaculate, and it was horribly obvious to the mortal eye. The girl should have never asked about her looks, cause Karmen could write a novel about her genetics. The girl seated herself promptly, curling her luxurious tail along the curve of her posterior, elevating a single paw to examine the damage the might have come from traversing the land. "Plenty." She answered simply, flexing her liver toes in little interest. The stranger introduced herself, an heir of a pack she hadn't yet heard of. One of her large ears twitched in recognition of the words, and she couldn't decipher if there was a hint of pride in her title. Karmen daintily placed her foot back on the ground, turning her face towards the girl - Azalea, she called herself. Karmen could give her a reason to be miserable, but alas, the fatale rolled her shoulders, soaking in the heat from the mid-day sun, and allowed her lips to twist into a simper. "Karmen Roe."