There was a wolf at the door and he had come alone. And what an grizzled mug to greet. At a first glance it was easy to question why the man was still alive for the scars that littered his body were tight. Violent delights have violent ends and yet this entity had yet to fizzle out. He did not seek out that inevitable fate yet he lived with no hesitancy. Acting on his own idea of justice. It was an ironic joke yet everyday he was a god of his own destiny. Each of his scars being a proof of his immortality and each scar a notch closer to his achille's heal. Age had not over taken him yet he was old. He was growing old. He often wondered if he would break his ideal of virtue by completing his undignified life without the violent end that he deserved.



For now the wolf called out. For the one, the only one who he knew would answer. The cry was throaty and curt and the scars that riddled his lips tightened, the impressions in which they sit setting against his teeth like the teeth of gears and snapping away painfully once the task was complete. Deteste's pain was the one secret he kept from the world. And it was a secret well to keep. As his limbs pulled forth the scarred skin that wrapped them grew taut and distorted. With the roll of his shoulders the old stab wound to his neck forced the man to retain a straightened posture with it's violent tug.



His expression was stoic. It would be no surprise to Medusa. She had known him well enough and no amount of bullshit could break the outward balance the man expressed. His departure from Amenti had been unwarranted and he was the smallest bit interested in what Medusa's reaction had been and what it would be now. But such things were not his objectives. The first was to care for the legacy he had fathered. The second was to claim his rightful place in this world and perhaps in consequence to claim his rightful death. Movement ceased and he settled himself upon the damp woodland dirt. Lips tight and still as stone he waited for her without impatience or thought.

Ivory ears flicked at the sound of a howl, her head turning toward the call. The voice pulled at her memory, but it was a very vague memory at best. She knew her pups were safe with Dempsey for the moment so she decided it would be good to take the time to greet the visitor that called from the borders. She knew the only other wolf in Amenti that might answer was Medusa, but Alena also knew that the ebony fea was very heavy with pups at this point and might not want to bother. She turned her course in the direction of the short howl and in a short time a dark figure came into view. Bells rang in her memory as she laid her violet eyes on the male, remembering him as the former Master of Amenti. She had met Deteste once at the first pack meeting she had attended, but had seen nothing of the brute afterward. He had apparently disappeared, but here he was again. She padded forward, holding herself with confidence, stopping a few feet in front of the brute. "Hello again, Deteste. Long time no see." She kept her pose relaxed, but her eyes shone with the curiosity behind them. She wondered what could have possibly have brought the scarred male back to the Amenti borders after all this time. Speech Thought Others

She was heavy with children, weighed down and sluggish, no longer agile and quick as she had once been. Medusa moved slowly, waddling as best she could as she curiously traced after a familiar scent. Deteste had disappeared during the early stages of her pregnancy, and although a different woman might have minded, the midnight mistress regarded the entire ordeal indifferently. She cared little if Deteste chose to stay or not, although his presence would make her job as a mother easier, it would bind her to their agreement. Upon arrival she noted the former Master and the new Madame, her swollen stomach the obvious elephant in the room.
?Look what the pregnant whore dragged in,? she remarked in respect to herself, wondering where his pretty little pet might have wandered off to. She would have loved to see the look upon the pale beauty?s face as she looked upon the ashen woman, swollen with life and no longer a slender harlot. Her black pelt was still pristine, her eyes still shining like moonlight, her frame the symbol of motherhood. It went without saying that she fucking hated it.