SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS

The first to come announces herself a daughter of Natalya and Helios, a cousin. She offers a brief nod to the girl in acknowledgment, but saves her plans for Katja. Those are hers to know alone. Her golden gaze shifts to her Aunt?s form then, nodding as Phoebe arrives smelling of youth. Perhaps the woman has found a husband. It is a nostalgic thought, bittersweet in nature. She has missed so much, and although she has her reason, it matters little.
Another comes, proclaiming that the gods will approve if her will is strong enough. She nearly laughs; she is a god, and she will bring down this ebon harlot with ease. She has done so before, and she will not stop bringing Katja to her knees until there is nothing left of the coward. ?I never abandoned them in the first place,? she notes. Katja does not know the whole story, and Virgil cares very little if she does or doesn?t. Her extended wait had been so Katja could heal. The goddess wanted no excuses for loss when she brought the woman down; she recognized this feud was between herself and the black-furred Viking. Unlike Katja, she would not be so low as to target others.
She mentions she won?t waste time convincing Virgil, and the goddess shrugs. She wouldn?t have been able to change her mind anyways. Legs spread equidistance apart, weight evenly distributed across all four grounded limbs, toes spread, claws biting into the soil, limbs bend, tail wavers behind her for balance, body lowers and with it her center of gravity, hackles raise, shoulders roll, head lowers to align with her spine, neck scrunches, chin tucks, jaws part, eyes narrow, ears pin back, muscles tense slightly.
?Your move,? she affords. It makes no sense for her to move first towards Katja; the woman is swift and will simply move out of the way anyways. It doesn?t much matter to the goddess regardless, convinced she will win no matter who moves first. Alas she keeps her head calm; she knows the ebon Viking is not a weak opponent, and now she knows that she has no such thing as honor, either.
She awaits, eyes locking into eyes, lips curling slightly upwards at the promise of aggression.

virgil vs. katja for yfir
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