NOTE: Artemis is killing Liste, so anyone else who attacks will be subject to a partial fight with her before the deed is done, but others are welcome to show up and see her murder if you really want to xD

"Speech" Thoughts Yes, the bitch smelled the pack's scent on the ground, on the trees, and in the air. Its claim was everywhere, calling out to any who dared enter unwelcome, telling them to stop and turn back. It was this way on the border of any pack's lands, and to ignore the warning was always the most certain way of guaranteeing an assault. Liste smelled the markers and she knew this, but she didn't care. Her paws moved at a lackadaisical pace as they carried her over the border and into the forbidden land. She had fought, maimed, sucked, and fucked to her heart's content. Usually there was no sating her desires. Usually she craved in waves, sometimes less and sometimes more, but now she found herself craving something different entirely. The demoness had been certain that coming to the land of her ruining would only fuel her fire, increase her aggression and help her to wreak havoc on Alacritia for what it had let happen to her. She thought that things would be better, but they had only turned for the worse. The craving that consumed her now was one she had been free of for several seasons and one that was entirely unwelcome in her dismantled heart. It had crept in when she met the wolf that looked so like her angel and sat, festering until it took over her most base desires. All control lost, Liste lost with it the desire to live. She had nothing left but the cruel reminder of what had changed her, what had killed her, and she wanted it gone. Thus she waltzed brazenly into the claimed lands of Elysium, awaiting the strike of the hand of fate.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? The Elysius deity is wrath incarnate as she weaves, serpentine, through dense and looming foliage -- vexation pronounced in the bedeviled curl of her upper lip, exposing the yellowed bone of decadent incisors beneath-----porcelain countenance morphed WICKEDLY in a snarl. An aroma so foreign -- so repulsive -- writhes through velvet nostrils, provoking a sense of irritation to ignite within her breast as robust appendages propel her dutifully { and swiftly } in the direction from whence it wafts, oversized paws methodically placed in an attempt to deliver her directly towards the invader in practiced silence. Pupils search, survey, ravage her enigmatic surroundings in pursuit of the little marauder?s unfamiliar form, adrenaline surging throughout her interior as she locates the nimble wraith traipsing through the Elysius? domain as if it were she who adorned the Elysium crown. Indignation flares beneath taut flesh, and the phantom seeks to engulf the distance that separates supremacy from subservience without detection -- pausing in her stride only once breaches the area perpendicular to the intruder?s left side. And in silence she examines with a critical eye, disdain heavy within the violet and silver prisms of her eyes. Idly, the Elysius props herself against the rugged base of a tree, pallid form { hopefully } obscured in lurking shadows that play within her eerie crypt -- dancing frantically beneath the pallor of the moon. And she, the sinister QUEEN of shadows. ?Bold?? is the saccharine syllable that baits the atmosphere -- the symphonic herald of her malevolent presence. And yet, the deity is unflinching -- collected as she gazes upon her intruder, gilded indifference plastered to her features. ?Or stupid??

Mist coiled around her dappled frame as she slipped through the shadows on yet another patrol. Scents would sift through her nostrils. Most of them familiar to the fae, after all she had lived in this terra for quite some time, regardless of the changes in ownership. D?gmar found it somewhat strange to have a place she considered a base? a home even, after all this time. Yet, here lay her cards. Emerald eyes glittered in the dusky light as she came to a pause. It stung her nose this strange scent that was far to deep into their territory for her liking.


Hmm? what punishment would she meter out to this fool? Should she perhaps piss on the fool so they would remember her scent? Cripple them? Both? A bubbling lust for violence swelled in her breast as her shadowy frame bolted towards the source of the foreigner. Defenses flew into place, hackles laced down her back, lips curled in a snarl as her ears pinned flat to her head, tail streaming out even with her spine as claws bit into earth.


D?gmar breached the clearing on the intruder's right side, perpendicular with the foreign femme's right shoulder. She slowed to a halt, defenses still held, as she noticed her Tyrant. Emerald gaze held focused on the intruder, her body coiled in threatening silence, waiting for the order to attack.


"Speech"

"Speech" Thoughts The approach of others had gone unnoticed by the dame as she was lost in thought, nightmaring about the love she had lost and would never find again. Suddenly two strangers stood on either side of her, pack members clearly. An obvious threat loomed to her right, while to her left a confidant little wraith stood watching her with disinterest. Somehow the babe was the more powerful one of the two, an easy deduction as the sable demoness's head twisted to look between them and noted the darker woman's looks toward the other. She fell back on her haunches with a demented grin, her narrow eyes gleaming with ferocity that did not reach her voice. Indifference also highlighted her raspy tones as she tilted her muzzle toward the queen and gave a curt "Neither." Her eyes quickly turned to the sky above her, her frustration growing. The attack-on-sight that she had expected had not come. It seemed the bitches needed persuading. "Is it no longer custom to dispatch of trespassers in Alacritian pack lands?"

basically you can have liste die in your next post if you want. i just wanted artemis to lose control of herself to the bloodlust and gradually increase her pressure on the bite until liste dies i guess. so that's what's gonna happen in my next post xD but you can just pp it like it's happening,

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? it is immediately that the dappled form of her acolyte manifests perpendicularly to the invader?s right side, seething with palpable aggravation and engulfed in violent apprehension -- every sinister intention lurking beneath the woman?s exterior visible in the intensity of her verdant gaze. yet the queen is silent, unflinching, and unwilling to grant the thyre wraith an opportunity to unleash whatever wrath she hopes to inflict upon their little guest; this one is hers, and she will make an example of her to those that dared to loiter within her shadowed crypt without invitation from the rightful tyrant -- who had bled for the kingdom they so casually trekked upon. fury is present within the prisms of her own mismatched eyes yet her marred countenance reflects naught but sheer apathy, indifference a deceitful guise that the queen suitably adorns even as the invader calmly reclines upon her haunches. indignation flares within her broadened chest cavity { for how does the woman not fear the savage wrath of the tyrant queen? } and her pupils ravage the trespasser?s physique, taking brief notice of the lacerations variously stitched throughout her flesh and the deranged gleam to her molten gaze. perhaps this was a masochist come to seek the thrill of gore -- carnage of which the tyrant would offer to her upon a silver platter. but it is the statement that forces a wry grin to contort the porcelain premises of her visage, and the queen pushes herself from the proximities of the tree she had propped herself against as a strangled and mirthless sort of laughter writhes from decadent jaws. ?if that is what you seek, i will oblige your request, my dear.? for she is a merciful tyrant who sought to appease her audience. robust appendages dutifully propel the phantom towards the woman as her defenses settle into place { for she expects a fight }, pace quickened and strides lengthy as she lays waste to the distance that lingers between she and the subservient whore -- her brutal intentions wrought within the guttural snarl that taints the otherwise silent atmosphere. gluttonous jaws seek the tender neck, ravenous incisors intending to clamp down upon the leftwards jugular in an obvious threat of death; however, the elysius does not intend to apply enough pressure to make such an assault fatal. no -- she yearns to hear the yelps and pleas for mercy, if it will only appease the sadist lurking beneath taut flesh.

"Speech" Thoughts A bitch, a slut, a whore, a psycho. What wasn't Liste? Once upon a time those words had been different. First, a runner, a coward, a prude. Then a friend, a lover, a martyr. Now these. She had gone from an entirely pathetic and lonely existence to a happy one, only to have it ripped from her when she gave up everything to preserve it. She had handed herself to her father on a silver platter, hell-bent on protecting her mate and pack, and had returned to find them all gone. Abandoned her, they had, and nothing could have hurt her worse. She had spiraled downward then, first into a mindless depression, then into an insane rage. She should have stayed away from this land and preserved the mind she still had, but instead she had returned and let this place take the rest and be her undoing. Her words finally coaxed the alabaster wraith into action and a freakish grin adorned her maw. Her head tiled ever so slightly to allow her to glance upon the female out of the corner of her eye. She watched her run toward her as if it were in slow motion, analyzing every last move without reacting even a little bit. As the woman's mouth opened and she finally leapt, Liste spoke her final words. "Is this your best, white queen?" Her voice raspy and aggressive as she let the words fall out of her mouth, chuckling as Artemis's teeth finally made contact and punctured her throat. Lids closed over golden eyes for a final time. She would not open them until the deed was done, allowing her mind to wander back to Angeal so she would not think of her imminent death, her suicide. -exit Liste via death when Artemis does the do-

this post might be disturbing to some sooo i'm just gonna go ahead and mark this post as mature.

? ? ? ? ? her frigid gaze regards the abominable { and slightly detached } state of her deranged adversary, and although the faintest trace of curiosity lingers within the chasms of her mind as she ponders over the wraith?s mentality, irritation reigns predominant within her. the scarred invader remains unflinching and undeterred by the possibility of her own demise as the tyrant?s assault commences; and the elysius is half tempted to cease in her attempts to annihilate, for there is no gain in an effortless victory -- no twisted sensation of mirth to encumber her senses as the aftermath of destruction. alas, as her pale form brutally collides with that of her trespasser?s, the high of her adrenaline rush becomes intoxicating as it surges relentlessly through steel veins, fueling the carnal desire for gore that lurks within. ravenous incisors pierce the tender flesh of her adversary?s upper neck, and as the metallic tang of blood dances upon her tongue, so the phantom becomes enraptured with her sinful endeavor, and the cacophony of her surroundings begins to fade as her attention focuses solely upon the rusted taste. the tyrant heeds no mind to respond to her victim?s wry sentiment as her teeth indulge in the delicate flesh, unhinged jaws hoping for reunion beneath her adversary?s skin as the elysius gradually increases the pressure applied behind her savage bite. whether or not there is a plea for mercy, a warrant for life, the phantom cares little. for in this moment, she is not a merciful tyrant -- she is a harbinger of death, a malignant spirit unable to suppress a bloodlust that can only swell as her countenance drips a sinful shade of RED. and as the metallic flood cascades down her throat, enlightening eager taste-buds, the tyrant releases a guttural rumble of satisfaction, mismatched eyes clenching shut out of sheer mirth until her adversary is naught but a dead-weight betwixt ruthless jaws, the life drained entirely from her veins. but the tyrant queen does not relinquish her grasp upon her victim?s neck until her body crumbles to the earth -- pathetic and lavished in crimson. a rose that she had forced to w i t h e r. even in her decadent state she maintains her indifferent guise, abstract gaze fixated upon the corpse at her feet as her chest rapidly inflates and deflates with bated breath. after a prolonged period of silent scrutiny, the phantom maneuvers with robotic ease -- every movement mechanical and without forethought. tainted jaws dive for the portion of her victim?s spinal cord just behind the cranium, the pressure of her bite intensified as she mercilessly clamps down upon the bone with the intentions to brutalize and break the bone, right forepaw pressed firmly against the corpse?s shoulder as her skull wrenches backwards with the intentions to detach the skull from its wearer. disparaging the carcass is a gruelling { and time-consuming } task and yet the tyrant is entirely sated as her jaws find beautiful and gory success! and a criminal smirk perturbes her apathetic facade as she tilts the skull back so that she may gaze upon the empty countenance with a mischievous gleam to her own eyes. ?no. this is my best.? her vocals are a bedevilled croon as her haunches recline to the earth, avid pupils still trained upon the carcass as she silently admires her handiwork.