STAR-RIDDLED SKIES

He is silent, enigmatic -- and the phantom deity is no different than he. A soft chortle erupts from slackened jaws as the titan encourages her own pretentious beliefs, and she saunters closer towards him, robust physique serpentine while she encroaches upon his proximities -- almost tauntingly. ?Then you aren?t doing a very good job of it; I?ve only seen you twice now,? the wraith states pointedly, amethyst and silver gaze boring intensely into his own molten, which flicker with the faintest trace of mischief. At his next words, the tyrant scoffs, shoulders rolling back in their sockets, defiantly. ?I?m not,? the Elysius protests, chin elevating slightly in a display of unwavering pride and confidence. ?-- I?m the queen,? is the proclamation that baits the air, irrefutable in nature. She has every right to the arrogance which laces her speech { at least, in her own biased eyes she is deserving of it }; she has bled on multiple occassions for the metaphorical crown which halos her temples, and she will continue to bleed for her empire until her dying breath.