Nephele was forming into her own creature. Her brother promised her a crown of bone but in result he was no where to be found. The babe was one of commitment and honor. She did not enjoy the fact that her brother did not come through with his words. He promised her reign yet her sister swiped it from anothers paws. Nephele did not look for the crown anymore. The babe saught after the lead of fighting within her pack. She wished to gain such power as her sister, but train others of how to slaughter. Nephele had a taste for fighting as of late. She had won a fight against a boy much larger then her. It gave her confidence. Enough confidence to go out and seek more. But, the vain girl would remain calm as always. She was a spitfire, but in norm, she was calm. Manipulation was her second tool of destruction but lately she had no need for silver tongued words. Everything was falling into place. Hopefully her darling Artemis would not abandon her throne like before. Nephele had no time for failure. If she needed to the girl would ensure no one dared to even think of taking their throne. The temptress was truly an Elysius, it was very evident in her ambitious state and over confident stance. She was born of blood and power, like the others of her family. Yet, as she slithered through the frozen field, her eyes were narrowed and her bodice quivered. It was cold, horribly cold. It was also dark. Her fluffy fur was only a blanket, yet she treaded on in annoyance. Hopefully she could get out of such weather as soon as she could. speech

He is the frozen spawn of winter itself; tall and slender limbs carry the pale extravagance thirty-eight inches above the chilling reach of substantial snowfall, though fat reservations are scarce upon his willowy construct, muscle is adequate and pallid pelt generous. And though he strives to waltz with the seamlessness of his parents genetics, he does not share their imperfections; though distinctive he does not withhold the faultless cloak of the Armada?s. Albino he is; skin stained a pale cherry and his right eye a hollow de-pigmented silver, however he is errored by the genetic mishaps of his dam?s womb, holding tightly woven puzzle-pieces that resemble irregular faults of steel blue. He has been watching her for longer than she may care to fathom, a haunting ghoul encompassed by the tender flutter of wintry breeze and smothered by the crystal ice that so enthralled his salmon toes. So easily unseen, a beast who prides upon elusive behaviours, unspoiled intellect that strives for the stealth his grace may offer naturally. He is curious in her reasoning, puzzled why a banshee seeming so discontent would cast her youthful physique amongst the unknown terrains of a world trapped in winter. Any other day and he would be content to silently observe, alas, he seeks to know more, ?Why are you here?? and his voice comes forth as though he holds an imaginary crown, wholly unaware of the possession that loitered his guiltless tones of request.

The vixen was of confidence. She was the prime example of a woman. Nephele Elysius was vain, therefore every inch of her bodice was groomed to perfect. Her emotions were shown upon her sleeve. She was easily enraged, her venom easily produced. Yet, with most she held a smile. A smile saying 'I am perfect and I know it.' Yet she knew she was not perfect, but for others to believe she was or thought she was, was all she needed. The babe was quite illustrious and mysterious like a true woman should be. But, now that the babe had goals, she was much less focused on how others saw her normally, but now battle was what mattered. What others saw in her when she fought. Her skill. Everything that was what was going to matter within her stay in Elysium. For she was to become something great, she knew it. But, the gold marked heiress was not feeling perfect in those moments. The babe was covered in snow and her paws were being sucked into the earth with each step. It made her slightly grumpy and she was so focused on the cold that the presence of another went completely unnoticed. As the phantom slipped to her his baritone vocals filled the very brisk air, ?Why are you here?? Why was she here? The girl stopped to observe the creature who beckoned her. It was a boy of cursed form. An albino, or maybe not? Her cyan and purple eyes flipped over the cobalt and ebony bits of his face for a few moments. A rare being he was, a phantom of curses and deformity. But, she would not dwell on such for it was rude. The tyrant let forth her own luxurious vocals, now paused in the snow. "I was seeking adventure, this is my first time in the north. I do not know if I am one for it though. My pads are numb.. But, I do not wish to complain to a stranger who is obviously equiped for such extreme conditions." The babe was indeed quite the talker, for she was not done. "Pardon me, sire. My name is Nephele Elysius of Elysium." She would silently beckon for his name, not knowing if she would need to search for it or not. The lady was indeed intrigued but the cold has not fled from her bodice. speech