She looked a mess, a mass of skin and bone and tortured fur that didn?t quite seem like a wolf. Argent Zaldun was knight, despite what her currently disheveled appearance might say, and she was a knight on a mission. For so long she had been separated from her master, cast from his side by a cruel fire and for so long she had sought him, sought to be by his side again for she longed for him. Her heart hammered within her chest at the thought of being reunited. She had often tricked herself into believing she?d caught a ghost of his scent, and so when it fell upon her nostrils for a brief moment she did not believe it. Could not believe it.
Argent growled to herself. She was hardly the sort of woman to become a damsel in distress and yet here she was, pining after the man to whom she owed her life, the man that she had taken away from. Perhaps he didn?t know the crime she?d committed yet, the wrong doing that she knew her guilt would force her to confess eventually, but for now she would have to find him. Without a purpose, without someone to serve, her own health had declined. It was necessary she fix this situation, and fix it soon.

Despite the recent influx of summer, Cathedral Point would remain in all it?s frigid glory; perhaps ever-chilled by the frosty wind that would endlessly weave it?s structures. Somewhat undetectable against the pale backdrop, the angel would saunter; seamless in every delicate movement, inaudible with every calculated stride. Though it would be rather unapparent, something drove The King onwards, the burning desire and overpowering need to find the company he so desperately sought. Her scent were one he had pushed from his mind some time ago, though the memories of her presence still lingered; hovering within a brittle reality, an inkling of hope. Though still the king would not discover the hidden woman, and so he would cease, shifting lightly upon coral toes as his skull would be thrown over his spine, a deep and harmonious howl rolling the barren landscape that enveloped him; calling her to him, calling her back to her master.

For a moment she paused, wondering if she was hearing ghosts yet again. But the chains that bound her to him made it impossible for her to disobey; the knight rose to her feet and made haste, ink-dripped paws kissing the ground with a haste that should have been difficult for a woman in her condition. And yet his call was enough to spur her onwards, to bring her towards him, and when she finally came into the sight of her albino Master she approached, taking a submissive posture and offering him her neck. ?My liege,? she greeted, the urgency in her voice evident. ?Took you long enough,? she spoke, but it was all in jest, a hopeful ice breaker that would ease any anger he might have towards her. She had taken so long to find him, and she?d missed him so.
She yearned to leap forwards, to embrace him, but she dared not to. She wanted to see his reaction first, to tell if the King would embrace the Knight or shun her, to see if she had earned his forgiveness. A frown tainted her smile for a moment; if he held no anger towards her now, she couldn?t see him enjoying her presence once he knew. At least, not in her own mind. In her mind, where she owed him so terribly and had only failed him, at least in the one way she couldn?t stop thinking about.

She would appear no sooner than later, ambling with the brittle regality he had so long ago grown accustomed to. The demon would fail to recognize his striking trophy; her meagreness, her patheticness. Barely a year ago she had been a prime image of perfection, wealth, strength. What had become of her? Still, the albino king had thought her dead, or evermore lost; the pleasantries that would rise so willingly within his core would be more than enough to encourage lacked appreciation of his favoured accolade, despite her scantily physical condition. A sense of disbelieve would attempt to clutch on, to squeeze his pipes closed before he made a fool of his intellect, though he was certain now, as she spoke, certain that it was her. Argent. Perhaps she had held a place within his heart, his mind that he had previously been blinded to, for now; as she so respectfully bowed to him, so willingly exposed her scruff to the power that brewed his ideal form; the realisation of deference would begin to taint his psyche. Even now in her dismal form, her rattling skeleton would boast of a thriving greatness no other of his women seemed possess. A rarity that he would find himself hungrily devouring as a single stride would draw him to her contact, pallid nape craning as salmon tongue would trace so thirstily along the clatters of her collar. ?I could say the same for you,? only now would his infamous smirk begin to twitch cherry lips, tainting with a rising pleasure as his jaws would open; hungrily seeking the tender folds of her scruff. ?But you are here now, and you are mine again, my pretty medal,? a vague sense of adoring possession would crease his tone, an oddity in comparison to the way he addressed his several other women.

Oh, she was doing so terribly, but that mattered so little now that she could see he was doing so well. And now, now she would be back by his side, ever so faithful and loyal and strong, serving him as he saw fit and protecting him when necessary. Argent was not a woman who bowed to anyone but him, or any who Isardis told her to bow to. Her loyalty was unwavering, for without him she would not have her own life, and that was a debt she would never repay. Well, her service went beyond that, to a kindling of affection and love that she would not deny. She was a Knight in love with her King, and she would obey him as such.
He closed the distance she had been too shy to close, the touch of his tongue sending a shiver down her spine. She had longed for his touch, to stand by his side, and now that it had come tree it felt much like a dream. She had missed his smirk, his way of doing things, and now she would no longer have to miss it. Argent would let him do as he pleased, leaning into his touch and accepted his claim, for she had never rid herself of him. ?Yes, anything for you,? she accepted, her words coming out in a hurry, and she felt so much like an uneasy pup. ?You make me feel like a fucking little girl, damn you,? she said, and she hoped to twist her head to touch it to his fur, affection that she couldn?t resist giving.
And yet she could not hide the heavy truth from him, not when it had been so heavy upon her mind. ?My King, I cannot hide this from you?I fear that I have wronged you,? she spoke quietly against his skin, her posture relaxing and growing somewhat saddened. She hoped he would forgive her eventually, hoped that he would not toss her away. What would she possibly do if she could not serve Isardis?

What had it been that day, so long ago, that had encouraged the ghoul to assist within the woman?s survival? They had been outnumbered, she had been outnumbered as they attempted to tear her limb from limb. Any other day, the albino would have strolled on by, chuckled weakly to himself as he watched thirsty murderers rip tender flesh from dense bones. But she fought so well, even three to one she had managed to hold desperately onto her life-sources, not to mention the suggestion of her seasonal uprising that had tickled faintly, tauntingly within the air. Heedlessly, Isardis had felt the need to intervene, to throw himself into a war that were not his and assist the fraught warrior in her brawl for existence. No enemy had been spared that hour. The memories would warm within his skull as she shuddered beneath his touch, as she allowed him to overpower her. Her lyrics were warmly welcomed, pride coiling within the nooks of her syllables as he would fondly gnaw at the flesh within his jaws; fluctuating from gentle grooms to stronger suggestions of possession, authority. Honestly, the pair in a brawl would threaten to be somewhat evenly matched, though he knew the woman would allow him his superiority regardless. It pleasured the demon greatly. He would bathe silently beneath her presence for a few moments before she would speak again, this time her words encouraging forth a chuckle of apparent disbelief. Though in that moment he would recall a pregnancy he had never truly forgotten, their mating had been one of great anticipation; imagine the brilliance of such spawn. Would such a topic be what bothered her so? What had become of the life that squirmed her womb? Broad chest would be pushed towards her, his weight thrust amidst her frail skeleton as he would attempt to force her downwards. Though aggressive it was not, purely one of lust, of the need to overpower the woman that triggered such adoration within his chest. Bemusedly he would tut tut tut, features morphing to that of mock disappointment, as he gazed so doubtingly upon her, ?You will just have to make it up to me then, yes?? his guard would fall, pleasurable chuckle bouncing his throat as he would conclude, ?My pretty, my little slayer, what bothers you so??

He was here and he was real, no longer a faraway dream for her to wish into reality. Argent couldn?t help but feel overjoyed; maybe they?d been apart for so long, and maybe she had messed up, but she was by his side again and nothing could get rid of that feeling. She could die now in his embrace, surrounded by his scent and soothed by his being. Maybe she seemed to be nothing more than a love sick young servant, but she felt so bound to him. Initially she had served her master due to a debt, but now she did so because of her bond to him, because she loved him.
Not that she would let the words fall past her lips readily, at least not into his ears. She did not know what he would think of such a thing, and nor did she wish to find out just now. Right now she found herself worried he might reject her, worried that he would hate her for the long time it took to reunite and the loss that she had suffered. She lavished in the affection he gave her, her body lavishing in the affection right down to the bone. When he tried to push her down she would go, giving little resistance to his demands, not that in her state she had much resistance left.

?I lost the children you gave me,? she said, wincing once the words had left her mouth, as if they tasted bitter on the tip of tongue. ?The wildfire, the smoke?.it must have been too much. I was too careless, my King, and I am so sorry,? she said, trying to find one of his legs to press her head against. ?I will make it up to you. Please, just name it and I will do it. Please just?.? don?t hate me she thought, for living with that would be almost unbearable.