Demons Never Die [Meeting]

Aislyn spoke up before Chrysanthe even had a chance to open her jaws to reply. She agreed with Epiphron's decision, and while the woman normally would've wondered if her eagerness to see Chrysanthe as leader meant that she viewed her as superior to Epiphron, she felt oddly calmed by the Beta's verbal approval.

At first, Chrysanthe seemed as though she might speak out in protest, unsure whether she should go along with it or not. But they'd talked earlier, toying with the possibility of them swapping positions -- and it seemed a plausible choice. But her sister soon accepted, humbly and yet proudly, saying she would be happy to be Alpha if that was what she desired. And she did. Epiphron grinned with affection, her tail wagging behind her formerly still frame, and she leaned over to gently tap Chrysanthe's shoulder. The decision had been made -- they would follow through with the plan that had been conjured up, for it seemed to be the one that would provide the greatest benefit to Valhalla, and the least pain for both of the sisters. Before she knew it, her sister -- her other half -- was thanking her and embracing her. Not just for stepping down, but for saving her from being forced into a marriage she never wanted, from the possibility of ruining a future that Epiphron knew she wanted with Gideon. It was a secret, shared between the two, that made the embrace even more emotional. Epiphron swore she felt tears bubbling in her own eyes, but she stifled the emotions as Syrinx's voice cut through the meeting.

It seemed her brother had a bad habit of disappearing when he was needed, and miraculously conjuring himself up when he really, truly was not. Slowly she turned to face him as he pulled himself tall, waltzing through the crowd as though Valhalla was already his. She loved him dearly, and yet an annoyed wrinkle was visible on her snout. "I'll make the laws around here now," he began, and a threatening snarl erupted from her throat suddenly. She cared not that he had been promised Valhalla; he deserved it less than anyone here, save perhaps Neo. He had been absent as of late, thoroughly unhelpful as Epiphron struggled to bring the Valhallan wolves together and manage the best she could, being thrust suddenly into the position of Alpha with no training or guidance. Collision had disappeared; her father was too ill to train her; and why Icarus had been chosen, she was not sure, for he had done even less than Syrinx for her family.

Despite this, though, the boy was unstable -- he'd always been different than his siblings. More jaded. Disturbed. He would not bring Valhalla the greatness he promised, but instead would run it into the ground, she was sure of it. His very attitude, his unfounded self-righteousness showed her that he would be nothing less than a dictator. He clearly cared not what the wolves of Valhalla wanted, only what he felt as though he deserved. Even Epiphron was not that egotistic.

He began to spit out decisions as though he was obligated to them, and she forced down the bile that bubbled in her throat. He had done nothing to earn the throne, and she would fight for it if need be, and hand it to Chrysanthe. "Syrinx, I will not be Valhalla's heir," she barked authoritatively. "I know you have been absent, so perhaps you are unaware of the alliance forming between Seracia and Valhalla? I will be going to the kingdom of Seracia this Winter to wed Maverick, to seal an alliance that is far more important than any rule you might see fit to enforce." It would be unwise to not follow through with the deal now; Valhalla had promised a bride for Maverick, and so one would be produced, an Adravendi -- not Chrysanthe, and certainly not Eos. It had to be her, and even Syrinx would not stop her.

Chrysanthe spoke up, confirming her place as the ruler of Valhalla. In all honesty, they would both act as equals, provided she gained Gerhardt's approval first -- hopefully her sister knew they had another obstacle to tackle before this would be set in stone. Before she could say another word, Chrysanthe challenged him for leadership. Her hackles would raise, the woman feeling rather upset that Syrinx had barged in so suddenly, with infuriating coolness, as though he had ruled to begin with, as though he belonged in her position. And he did not. Slowly she backed away from the two, though she held herself as though she might attack at any moment. And she wouldn't, but she grew suddenly unsure of her brother and his intentions.

Silent engulfed her as she reclined again, eyes alight with fire as she watched the fight unfold. Despite her lack of words, she was growing increasingly passionate. If Chrysanthe lost, she would fight Syrinx herself and hand the throne to her sister -- but if he sister lost, she was unsure if she would do much better against the brute.