She has been hiding deep within the mist that cloaks her decaying forest, her eyes struggling to stay open as they are caked with yellow mucus and blood. Her respiratory system seems to be failing her. She is constantly short of breath, she feels like she cannot inhale enough oxygen to keep herself stable, and she feels her heart beating in an oddly paced fashion. She can barley stand on her feet without collapsing to the earth within a few steps, as shivers and spasms continuously rock her fragile bodice. She knows she cannot go on like this much longer, and she cannot keep her citizens in the dark. They need a stronger leader, someone capable of filling in her spot until she is well enough to lead again. But who? Neios, the strongest member within the pack besides herself, had also caught this unknown illness. There was only one option left, and she already knows it will be risky to ask the tyrant queen such a big favor, but she has no other options. Carmine skull tips back as a weak summon for her unconquerable paramour seeps from her ebony lips, a summon for Miss Artemis Elysius. She hopes the woman is still within the territory and will heed her desperate call, her skull lowering toward the earth to rest on her front paws as she waits. Walk "Talk" Think

it is the summons of her carmine beauty that extracts the phantom from her abhorrent chambers, the faintest hint of worry left to fester within her twisted mind as a result of the distressed cadence of the empress? beckon. she arrives upon swift paws, dutiful precision evident within her hasty stride as she writhes through the entrance of the goddess? dwelling with little hesitance, mismatched gaze immediately locating the broken form of the petite amazon -- her nimble physique obviously wracked by some unknown malady. anxiety flares within the tyrant?s chest cavity as she sluggishly and tentatively draws nearer to the afflicted queen, halting uncharacteristically close to the vixen as fervent pupils fixate upon fiamette?s volcanic gaze -- caked in blood, similar to when she had first encountered the babe. ?again, little demon?? she inquires softly, a sigh cascading from velveteen lips as she contemplates the beauty?s condition, figuring it to be the same ailment that previously plagued her. ?shall i hone in on my healing skills?? half-hearted amusement riddles her tones, and yet sincerity lingers. if fiamette requires a cure, she will journey this earth in pursuit of it. for without her kin to provide for, her possessive attention has thus shifted to the broken beauty at her paws. table by lu.

It does not take long for the pristine goddess to make her appearance, her ivory form becoming visible among the heavy mist as she swiftly moves toward the plagued empress. A feeble smile curves the corners of her velveteen lips, her blood-caked eyes struggling to gaze into the mismatched glare of her unbreakable patron. Slowly Artemis steps toward her, laying waste to the distance that separates the diseased from the healthy. Although she desperately wishes to embrace her paramour, she carmine nymph shy's away from her close contact, her skull pulling toward her chest cavity and away from Artemis. She does not want to pass her illness onto the one wolf who has enough potential to keep Apollyon standing, so she acts is weary fashion. A lighthearted chuckle rattles within her chest in response to Artemis' words, because without a healer in Apollyon Art might actually be her only chance at survival. "The gods have plagued me again," She begins, her eyes shifting to align with her mistresses. "and I can feel my crown slipping." She begins to cough after her first sentence, a wave of uncontrollable shivers racking her body from nose to tail. "I don't know if I can be cured, but I will never stop trying to quell this illness. Until then, I fear Apollyon will fall to its knees." She shifts her body to get a bit more comfortable, she can feel the agonizing aches starting to come back to torture her. "Will you take the crown for me, Artemis? Will you hold things down for me until I am well again?" There is a look in her eyes that rarely manages to seep to the surface, the look of weakness and anxiety. She had promised Artemis she would not fail her, and that was exactly what she had done. Would Artemis be there for her in her hour of need, or would she laugh at her pleads for help? Walk "Talk" Think

supernatural gaze softens with a tinge of endearment as avid pupils regard the empress? weak grin, a single ear quivering faintly atop her pallid crown as the scarlet deity?s bewitching laughter floods the den?s interior. yet as the beauty explains the severity of her affliction -- only to have her frail body incessantly quake to testify her claims of anguish -- the tyrant?s rare concern only intensifies, muscles rippling beneath pale flesh as if to pull her into the nymph?s proximities; but the phantom refrains if only momentarily. rather, she tenses at fiamette?s proceeding vocals, thoughts swarming within her twisted mind as she weighs the empress? heavy request, silence encompassing her battered form. then, without forewarning, the elysius { almost in a daze-like state } maneuvers closer towards her broken beauty, only halting in her saunter once she breaches the area adjacent to where the empress lain -- decrepit, subdued. robust form collapses { albeit gently } beside the carmine deity, mismatched eyes aspiring to fixate briefly upon fiamette?s volcanic gaze before her neck tentatively extends towards the empress, skull seeking to hook behind the woman?s shoulders as if to pull her into her embrace, hoping to quell the woman?s shivering with her own body warmth. and the tyrant is undeterred by the possibility of inheriting the nymph?s disease as she further coils about the beauty, a soft sigh touching frayed lips as she contemplates her own uncharacteristic actions. ?i will alleviate the stress of your queenship, little demon,? the elysius murmurs in acceptance. ?if --? she hesitates slightly, trepidation flaring within her chest cavity. ?if you allow me to stay -- here.? and it will be quite grieving to abandon her chambers wrought by decay, but it is already her self-appointed duty to look after the scarlet queen, and she does not intend upon losing the woman to a trivial thing such as disease. table by lu.