Fruition of dominion

As the meeting unfolded before her, Absinth sat amidst her fellow heathens, her gaze sharp and calculating as she observed the dynamics playing out before her.

Sephiran's commanding presence set the tone for the gathering, and some part of her felt immense pride to be part of the beginnings of what she thought was going to be a wild fucking ride. As Sephiran outlined the politics and the ranks within The Syndicate, Absinth's mind raced with possibilities. While her skills as a fighter were undeniable, she knew that claiming the role of lead militant would not come without its challenges. Yet, the prospect of wielding power and influence on the battlefield stirred something within her, fueling her desire to rise to the occasion.

When Sephiran called for volunteers to join him as diplomats and to challenge for ranks, Absinth's decision was made. She watched as Aresenn stepped forward for Emir, her blood rushing through her veins at the sight, then as the scarred brute, Caedes challenged for lead physician. With a fierce glint in her eye, she stepped forward, her voice ringing out with unwavering conviction. “Effendi Muqatil. Who will try to deny me?” The monochromatic fae declared, her tone steady and confident and absolutely brimming with wicked delight. She regarded the others who had not challenged for a rank with a calculated gleam of her eyes. Let them try to take what she wanted, if they dared.

wormwood