SWAN SONG
07-05-2014, 11:42 PM
In spite of her exhaustion, her senses remain acute -- triangular ears careening forth with the unfamiliar guttural summons that pollutes the silent atmosphere of her newly reclaimed domain, evidently lingering within the premises of the Elysium realm. Abruptly she stirs -- the queen from her crypt -- robust appendages carrying her with ample elegance in the direction from whence the beckon erupted, mismatched gaze narrowed with contempt at the prospect of invaders -- invaders she must annihilate if she is to start her reign with a firm and callous hand. Upper lip unfurls over gluttonous incisors ( retaining their sinful carmine taint from her latest conquest ) out of raw aggravation as she attempts to position herself downwind from whichever daring soul had encroached upon her territory, defenses instinctively slipping into place as the silhouetted form of her first intruder manifests upon the horizon. The phantom is silent ( and disconcertingly so ) as she devours the distance separating predator from prey, footfalls carefully concealed as she attempts to approach without detection -- the obscure assailant, eager to admonish those who offer her their disrespect. And yet, as the battered wraith draws nearer and nearer to the invader, the familiar aroma of family grows prominent as it encompasses her senses, and her brows knit together in a brief display of confusion; was this Codeine, the littermate that had ABANDONED her alongside Ares? Trepidation seeps into her interior and yet her exterior portrays none of the ramifications of uncertainty, defenses still secured as she approaches the brute with an aura of unwavering confidence, amethyst and silver gaze fixated upon his dainty physique with evident intrigue. ?You are an Elysius,? she states indifferently, announcing her presence as she emerges from the mists that perpetually encumber their forest, maneuvering into his proximities with ease. ?-- My brother. Vicodin,? the phantom assures herself as her pupils ravage the design adorning his coat -- that of which her littermates lack and thus it must be a half-sibling she has encountered: the only one left to reunite with. ?I see you?ve made yourself at home,? a smirk chisels her marred countenance as she looks to the tree he has lavished in his own scent, undeterred by his pretentious mannerisms -- this is their home. ?Do you intend to stay?? |
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