silver tyrants and goddesses

Curiousity drew the commoner toward some old pack lands, looking for any possible refugees from the fallen Apollyon empire. The twisted thickets of gnarled spirits were as cold and uninviting as ever. The pack had been claimed by the son of her own sovereign, Valentine. As the thought of the name reeled through the chasms of her mind, the harlot would hiss with venom, tail slashing the air in brief succession before slowing to a gentle sway with the eerie winds. *"Apollyon ? caduto, si rivolse a dell'Imperium. Eppure ci sono ancora sopravvissuti? Forse che l'imperatrice sanguigna e il suo tiranno disinteressato." Fluent Italian lyrics flowed from parted labrums, hushed and quiet, only meant for her own self to hear. The dreams of power and riches drifted, washing away her hateful thoughts entirely. **"Un giorno sar? la mia imperatrice." She had met the silver tyrant before, their encounter most interesting, Did the ghoul still haunt her old domain, or had she moved on with her carmine follower?

*"Apollyon fallen, turned to the Imperium. Yet there are still survivors? Perhaps the sanguine empress and her tyrant remain."

**"Perhaps someday I will be my own empress."