Her paw-pads have been rubbed raw with her excessive travels and her limbs ache from overuse, and yet, the Elysius deity feels accomplished and relieved--her sibling?s ailments have been successfully diluted thanks to Roman?s remedial concoction and Novo?s path to recovery lacks any further hindrances. Such a prospect has left the phantom in high spirits; her family is on the verge of flourishing once more and fulfilling the supremacy bestowed upon their heads at birth--she supposes her relentless efforts to rally her siblings has finally paid off. And while she still lacks the paramount presences of both her littermates ( both of whom she has not encountered in seasons ), her faith in her family?s capabilities is unwavering; she knows that they will overcome all obstacles that line their path to irrefutable glory in due time. She has endured a lifetime of waiting and yet she is determined to wait more if that is what it takes; either way, she knows that her purpose resides within leading her kin and that she must play the role of their beacon of vigor and fortitude if she is to mend the familial bonds that had been broken as a result of their mother?s demise. She is halfway there, after all; the Elysius shall emerge from the ashes and conquer when the time is right, and that time approaches quickly.

Bored, bored, bored. She is overwhelmingly bored, magma hued eyes flicking lazily toward her right as she contemplates leaving Covari for the day to find something exciting to occupy her time. Her restlessness prevails, ebony dipped legs unfolding as she lifts herself to her feet to free her carmine pelt of any debris before her departure. She shakes herself clean, dirt and gravel that had clung to her pelt flying in all directions. She wastes no time leaving her den to head toward the borders, glancing from left to right as she approaches for any spectators that could put a halt to her plans. She waits a few moments before crossing silently into the weeping woods, immediately changing her direction and pace to slither beneath the rows of weeping willows on silent paws. She travels toward the heart of the territory and reaches it within a few minutes, and she is surprised she has not bumped into a rogue yet despite traveling so far alone. Usually she stumbled across others unintentionally, but now that she was looking for someone, no one could be found. A displeased grunt would fall from her slackened jaws, ebony dipped tail flicking in annoyance behind her ethereal hips as she pressed her bodice into the base of gnarled willow. She would rest there momentarily, her eyes sweeping her surroundings as she thinks of a way to entertain herself- that is when she appears, a ghostly figure whom seems to float above the earth on her agile paws with ease. The youth's attention is immediately ensnared, and she tears away from the tree's base and aims to approach the stranger head on, brows furrowing as an odd sensation sweeps through her veins. This woman seems very familiar, as if they had met before under some odd circumstances... But she did not smell of Covari, and so the youth assumes she is a rogue passing through the willows whom she can aggravate and taunt. She pushes any thoughts of knowing this woman into the folds of her mind, mischief glowing within her magma hued eyes as she speaks in a low voice. "Who are you?"

ooc- im in spree mode, forgive me xD

With the pretentious finesse of a queen she hails, exposing herself to the tyrannical banshee who is otherwise unsuspecting to her abrupt and mischievous presence within a desolate wood. Abstract gaze devours all within its wake as she registers the cacophony of unmasked footfalls that lead her hungry pupils directly to its source, recognition settling into the folds of her diseased mind as her gaze lingers upon the adolescent?s ethereal exterior. Frayed lips tweak into the faintest hint of a smirk laden with poisonous intent and she halts in her purposeful saunter, allowing the carmine beauty to approach her as she will. Indifference shrouds her porcelain countenance as her pursuer lays waste to the distance that separates them--a predator from her prey--and yet, there is no denying the intense emotion that swarms her interior; had her victim become her advocate? However, as the child?s angelic tones grace the atmosphere, it all starts to make sense, and yet, not at all. Brows furrow in contemplation as she searches the demon?s facial features for an incent to what she can only suspect is a joke, though she is granted none--only the devious gleam to the girl?s molten gaze. ?Your mother would not want you here, little demon,? she croons softly--monotonously. She briefly wonders how the girl had even managed such a feat--to escape the prying grasp of a protective mother who had almost lost a daughter.

The carmine beauty continues to stare directly into the mismatched eyes of the tyrant, emotion nonexistent within her youthful features as she waits for some sort of response. She is vexed by the woman's eyes, intrigued by their coloration of ivory and amethyst, and finds herself unable to peel her gaze away even when the stranger finally decides to speak. The adolescent's curiosity inflates when the woman mentions her mother, stating she would not want her out here and referring to her as little demon. She feels an odd sensation course through her veins, a feverish desire that streaks across her chest in what she can describe as butterfly's swarming within her core. She has never been called anything other than Fiamette, and so she is intrigued by her new and accurate nickname. Something about her eyes, her words, and the cute pet name little demon.... It was familiar, very familiar. Despite her reeling and racing mind she would keep her outward appearance unchanged- her magma hued eyes gleaming with mischief and her brows furrowing slightly as she responds. "My mother is not here. Who are you, and how do you know of my mother." She inquires, the tip of her ebony dipped tail flicking from left to right just above the earths moistened soil. She hopes the woman will answer her question this time, as she certainly had ensnared the youths unwavering interest. "Speech"

OOC- phone post!

The beauty no longer adorns macabre embellishments nor is her petite frame wracked by vehement compulsions, though even in her customary state, the phantom deity finds herself enthralled by the wicked oddity placed so vulnerably ( and conveniently ) before her. Despite the flare of intrigue that engulfs her malevolent interior, her pallid countenance refrains from portraying outward emotion--entirely encompassed by practiced stoicism as her abstract gaze finds comfort in the child?s own carmine eyes, swimming with evident mischief. The hint of a smirk flickers upon velveteen lips as the dainty princess retorts with the obvious, amusement unveiled with her victim?s obliviousness--so she had been too preoccupied in the unconscious realm to recall the identity of her captor. Oh--the wraith could have feigned her own innocence; though, she wanted the child to k n o w. ?Your mother does not like me,? the Elysius croons, vocals lavished in silk, though there is truth to her words. Skull lowers slightly, attempting to meet the beauty at eye-level, muzzle invading the girl?s personal space as she baits the child with taunting intentions--the wry grin ever-present upon her marred visage. ?I don?t blame her, though. After all, I did take her daughter.? A singular brow quirks upon her forehead as she hints to the child, hoping that her confession is obvious enough to her former prisoner.

Her question causes the woman's lips to curl into a slight smirk, curiosity clawing at the adolescents mind as she wondered why her inquiry would be amusing. Words draped in silk would slip from the woman's slackened jaws, making it all too clear how this woman knew her mother and why her mother despised her. The carmine beauties eyes would widen in astonishment. So, this was the woman her mother had warned her about? This was the tyrant whom had snatched her up during her moment of weakness and had scared her mother half to death? How intriguing. Magma hued eyes would narrow to slits, all other emotion vacant from her features as she cooed her response. "Why did you take me, miss. Was it to enrage my mother? Or did you have other plans in mind." She would inquire, as she was truly curious to know what had possessed the woman to snatch her up. "Speech"

And the child remains U N F A Z E D by their enclosed proximities as the tyrant encroaches daringly upon her personal space, amethyst and silver gaze transfixed upon the carmine oddity?s stoic guise while the cheshire smirk only elongates further upon her own. The phantom deity is quite decidedly enraptured by the princess -- malevolent schemes swarming through the premises of her twisted mind as she notes upon how impressionable youth are; she could potentially mold the beauty into something men would willingly bow to, something teeming with grandeur. As the child acknowledges her predator with a widened gaze, interest evidently piqued, the Elysius wraith draws herself to her full apex yet again, pupils still unwavering from the nubile princesses? petite physique as she attempts to maneuver around her prey-----a looming oppressor, scrutinizing her prospective acolyte. ?I will teach you something, little demon,? the phantom begins, robust appendages propelling her slowly now, gaze hungrily ravaging every inch of the beauty placed so delicately before her-----astounding. ?There are those who play the game of life to survive, and those who play to WIN,? vocals are a cryptic litany, intending to charm with its palpable confidence. ?And those who want to win, have every opportunity under the sun available to them if they want to get leverage over the other players -- do you follow me?? She does not wait for a response, though continues to encircle the child, inhaling deeply before proceeding. ?If you want leverage over a man, you use the tool that lurks between your thighs--? a smirk touches her frayed lips, ?--and a mother, the lives of her children.? At this, she halts in her lackadaisical stride, intending to position herself at the front of the princess as she had previously been, a singular brow quirking curiously upon her forehead as the emotion dissipates from her countenance.