the king wants his gold

The little doll had attempted manipulation, bravely gambled with her own life and vague future as she attempted to lure The King into one of her petty little traps; Isardis may not have been a beast of particular wit, but he wasn?t a fool, and to let a mere lamb grasp at the throne of greatness would be no less than an amateur mistake; especially when every other woman of Glaciem could so easily bridge the fickle bristles of her childish spine to pilfer it from her. Little Liberty was no doubt going to be more of a pain than she was a pleasure within his ranks, though still the snowy angel could find no other way to relieve the throbbing yearnings to posses her. He had no other choice, he would not be walked all over by the measly paws of a scrawny pup.

Her ears would flicker, though her expression would remain thorny; still, as the duo-tone wench let gratis her conclusion, it was all the more expected, and even somewhat appreciated. Even if Liberty had come to Glaciem quietly, with her superior?s consent, it would not stop Isardis forcefully stealing from the pack in future. Alliances were not something The King voluntarily flagged, his forces far too eminent to be at the mercy of lesser beings. So the foolish vixen would be greeted by the weak chuckles of his whirling intellect, ruby gaze brewing with sinister schemes. ?It seems you are blissfully unaware of the lamb?s offerings, little queen, she had thought me somewhat stupid, you see; reaching out with that sharp little intellect of hers, ah she craved so badly to be my queen,? his cackles would volumize between lyrics, ?But I simply couldn?t give a mere weasel my kingdom?s throne.?

Sting, perhaps it would; he could only hope. Taurig would arise somewhat unsuspectingly, his loyal stance that of no less than the prime image of Isardis? lineage. The faithfulness he would pride himself upon within the towers of Glaciem. Here, it seemed foolish alpha?s were no less of a guide to the people within it?s borders; pretty faces to stroke bleak futures. Isardis was a King, his people lived to serve him, as he would live for what they could bring; it wasn?t sick or twisted, no- it was realistic. The same kind of realism most wolves were terrified of facing. Isardis, like Argent and Taurig, were not afraid of what nature could so easily bring. ?So you leave me no choice, pretty magpie, other than to satisfy my wishes fairly,? with those lyrics the albino monster would swivel, pacing a few steps from the group before he would pause once more, features still bustling with the pleasantries that spoiled his mind, ?I look forward to our reunion on the battlefield.? And finally he would continue athwart, entrusting son and knight to shield him as he would saunter so arrogantly from the sunburnt lands. The initiation of a war? One could only hope.

-- exit isar, unless called back or something. <3