FLAWLESS

The attraction between tyrannical paladin and savage combat is magnetic; however, it is the source of the warcall that intrigues the Elysius deity more than the looming prospect of bloodshed. The red queen ( whose diseased babe she had thieved and threatened only days prior ) now posed a challenge towards the current Valhallan sovereign, and although the wraith was wont to admire such ambition like that of which the harlot possessed, she would remain unimpressed. She had already conquered such a feat--had already seized the Valhallan throne within her covetous grasp only seasons prior, and therefore felt uninclined to commend the scarlet challenger for her lack of creativity; if anything, she would scorn the queen who so boldly sought to belittle her past achievements.



She is the very embodiment of elegance--a rose among negligent thorns--and her confidence is apparent in the immaculate poise her pallid form retains as she traipses upon a field that has seen all the gore and carnage this world has to offer. And yet, she is unfazed by the strong scent of iron and rust and death--blood a tantalizing fragrance to a macabre enthusiast whose only desire was to watch the world fall to utter chaos, and all at the mercy of her own paws. However, her time to conquer is not now; now, she is but a mere spectator to another?s battle, silent and apprehensive towards the impending events as she adorns the sidelines like a glorified trophy, entirely indifferent to whatever fate should befall this red queen.