Hell
01-12-2015, 05:15 PM
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01-12-2015, 06:25 PM
she has been looming in the shadows; an eerie phantom haunting the perpetual mists of her proclaimed dominion with a condemnatory gaze as she pinpoints the negligent and familiar viking: her brother’s dethroned queen. and the elysius can only contemplate whether or not it is a notion to spite, for it is not confidential knowledge that the elysius dwells within this cryptic keep, her domineering fragrance etched into the very mists shrouding the earth as if she still adorns the elysium throne -- as if her possession over this wood is engraved into the soil. and the tyrant is the indignant protector of her possessions { fiamette, the forest, her son }, vexation blossoming within the depths of her chest cavity as the compulsion to fortify and conquer hounds her vindictive conscience, defenses diligently sliding in to play as she prepares for the impending battle, the wounds she received from the secretuan trio a few months prior now completely mended, unidentifiable save for the scarred lacerations carved into her left thigh. but they merely and the elysius attempts to descend upon the former queen perpendicularly from katja’s left side, attempting to come to a standstill approximately ten feet away from the battered viking as a crooked grin chisels her marred countenance. “perhaps searching for trouble is unwise,” the deity suggests with a saccharine croon, quirking a brow as her dulled nails haphazardly knead the earth beneath her -- biding her time if but for the moment, like the proverbial snake in the grass, waiting for the opportune moment to S T R I K E. |
01-12-2015, 07:45 PM
He would follow his mother diligently. Her silver pools trained on her pallid shadow as she lead him to their destination. He didn't question it, rarely did he ever question anything from his mother since finding out about the death of his brother. Silence encompassed his ever growing bodice, now that he was nearly a month old, he towered over the stature of most pups his age. Oversized paws pressed into the earth of his home, his kingdom, silver tipped audits careening forward in attendance. The foreign scent of a stranger would fill his nostrils, his gaze immediately lifting to search his mothers face. Surely this intruder would be dealt with?
He would follow his mother, though he halted about 5 feet behind her, putting a vast distance between himself and the intruder. Blackened lips would curl, as his eyes narrowed to slits. He did not know this woman, but she was not welcomed into his home. His mothers voice would fill his ears, bringing a sense of pride to fill his chest. He wasnt big enough to defend his home yet. but his mother was, so for now he would allow her to defend their kingdom. His dark crown would lift above his shoulders while fluffy tail curled about his hips. He was far from intimating, but in his own mind, he was a monster to be feared. |
01-12-2015, 10:26 PM
Well, wasn't this a miserable piss stain of a land? The gladiatrix pauses in her quest, keen lavender gaze narrowing as she searches through mist and fog for the ever elusive path. This wicked aura that hung about this place was almost certain to deter prey and was ill-fit for the goddess' uses. Aerndís had ventured out of Arcanum to work her mind in hunting more exotic prey. She snorted in irritation. Fuck. She'd someone gotten herself turned around in this miserable hell, she just knew it!
A chill breeze rushed through the branches, rustling and clicking above her like fangs. She could only guess was creatures were crawling about in the forest underbelly like worms crawling through a cur's gut. Time to get the fuck out of here. Swift and silent the femme fatale manuevers her way through the forest, pausing as wolf scent meets her searching nostrils. Hmmm… how interesting. Lips curl over fangs as she strolls toward the source with a grin on her face only to come upon three other wolves. Her heart rate quickens as she notes the scars. How delicious, these two were surely warriors. Lavender gaze falls for a moment on the pup but then quickly back to the adults. The boy is barely worth the effort it took her to tilt her head.
"Good evening my war torn ladies…. what do we have here? A secret meeting? A lover's tryst? Maybe something a little more fun… hm?" Aerndís couldn't resist a good bit of gossip and had no intention of leaving no matter how secret their little meeting was.
"Speech"