The water sounded heavenly, flowing slowly and crisply over the rocks. It was winter, and a chill ran along the siren?s spine as she explored the area. Already the harlot had spent a decent amount of time in the North, but lately she?d stayed closer to Ludicael, wishing to be near her vixen should the time come. Medusa was nervous, prepared for the battles to come, prepared to lose her own life should the Sol require it. For now she was distracted, exploring in the search of entertainment. These lands were so filled with life and activity; the siren much enjoyed it all, lavishing herself in attention when it was able to be given. In the spring she imagined this place would be bursting with life, perhaps covered with young lovers and scampering youngsters. For now it was desolate, quiet, peaceful in a way that the midnight mistress appreciated. A relaxed sigh left her lips as she continued her exploration, curious if any others would come across her path. She certainly hoped so; she was in the mood for a bit of entertainment.

Auburn and russet crawled beneath the dying sun, fingers of striking gold and yellows stroking fondly at the spine of the painted lady; harmonious against the chiming of falling water, the romantic dance between the power of elements. Dainty paws tapped curiously at the shifting surfaces, testing her stability and traction as she dared her body to take the gamble, thrashing waters of evil promise whispered and reached desperately for her soul, the thrill of dangerous possibilities her ecstasy. With the tiniest of misjudgement she could fall, her body crushed by the cruel forces of nature. Beautifully, elegantly, perfectly.

Satisfied with the twisting contractions of muscle, pleased by her bodies abilities to pass along the rigid threats of the falls she moved back to the bank, where certainty and safety beckoned; her reward of survival more powerful than the greatest gift of glimmering diamonds and jewels. The youth found her way effortlessly through the winding structures of trees, silver-green eyes guiding her closer to the previously unnoticed presence of another. No desire to interact, though not prepared to shift from her preferred path of journey. The burgundy stained lady paused, standing with an apparent uncertainty. Her ebony company seemed content with her exploration, and Eos hoped quietly the pairs meeting would be relatively brief. Silence still loomed between them, gaze held unwaveringly to the female?s own. Would she spark up some form of pointless conversation, as they all did; or would she keep her tongue shrewdly to herself?

Moonlight-colored eyes found themselves gazing upon a beautiful youth, one who was a tad too young for the harlot?s more lecherous tastes, but whose appearance could still be appreciated. A bit of flirtation and teasing never hurt after all, and the serpent herself had been subjected to far worse when she?d been the same age. ?Come to keep me company, liebling?? she greeted, the German falling off her sinister tongue with practiced ease. The midnight mistress was a woman capable of speaking many languages, taught to do so in her former training. ?My name is Medusa, although I bet that my name is not as important as yours, my sweet,? she said. The flattery was hardly subtle or disguised, but she wanted to see how her company would react. Would she squirm away, would she anger, or would she play along? The first two options would earn the girl a cackle from Medusa?s black lips, whereas the other would also be amusing. Perhaps this girl would resort to something even less predictable, something the snake was not prepared for. Whatever it was, she waited, silver-tinted eyes gauging the girl?s reaction.

The midnight banshee?s skin seemed to crawl with pleasure, the thirsty gaze she cast to her new company one that provoked a hesitant inquisitiveness. Quite frankly, Eos wasn?t sure a dame had ever looked at her in that way before, and the youth wasn?t entirely confident she was enjoying it. Strange accent floated freely, her words almost sickening as they quaked with confidence. ?No,? the lady replied simply, ears flicking back against the feminine curves of her scalp. Eos wasn?t the kind for aimless banter, and this mysterious character wasn?t going to be an exception. The she-wolves next words caused an awkward tremble to shake the lining of her stomach, ?sweet?? Hardly. ?If you find dubbances to be of importance, I?m worried for your ambitions,? feminine tones were laced with subtle distaste, ?But since you seem so eager to share, it?s Eos. Is your psyche now satisfied, or does it still yearn for aimless pleasantries??

It would seem that this girl wasn?t the playful sort, as her quick response would indicate. The siren?s lips would let loose a chuckle at the rebuttal, wondering if this girl was one of those wild, reckless teenage sorts who had a sharp tongue and sharp wit. ?Too bad,? she said, although she would not impose her presence upon the youth for too long. If she did not enjoy it, Medusa was not so despicable a woman that she would stay longer than a good laugh?s worth of time. ?Why, names are most certainly important dear. They tell who you belong to, what?s your background, what your mother imagined you?d be when you grew up,? she said. The girl would offer her name. Eos. It wasn?t a name that Medusa could tell anything about really, but she would ponder it nonetheless. The bit of snark at the end of her speech was not missed, and instead was greeted with a cackle. ?Of course I am not satisfied. I desire entertainment, entertainment you have proven capable of providing, lovely,?she cooed. Medusa would not disturb the youth, but she would seek to irritate her. ?Who do you belong to, dearest?? she asked. It wasn?t a question of ownership, but a question of parentage, of what familial background the beauty belonged to. Was she related to anybody the serpent had encountered?

An imposing chuckle bubbled free of dark jaws, the splintering echo of humour encouraging a twinge of frustration within the russet?s chest. Oh so she was one of those kind? Far too often Eos crossed path?s with the dark, twisted souls that thought it their place to find amusement in every syllable and curl of the tongue. To put it simply, it irritated her greatly. The woman, or ?Medusa? as she so openly introduced herself as, seemed to be enjoying her company; words of disagreement once again floating forth without any evidence of hesitation. Mother. The word still caused a twang of resentment to fizzle her stomach acids; her mother was dead, she had left her children to the cruel ways of the world; no, not by choice, but somehow Eos still reviled her for that. Amusing. Had her mother named her after a greek goddess for a particular reason? She highly doubted it. ?I don?t enjoy my future being decided for me, Medusa. My mother once suggested me a princess, and look where I am now. Surely my name cannot depict how I choose to lead my life? I find it comical you should think so.?

Eos disregarded the fae?s suggestion of entertainment, fa?ade remaining emotionless, unimpressed by the sickeningly charming titles this wench seemed to pride herself in. ?Nobody,? she responded without hesitation to the ebony?s last question, though she knew it withheld greater meaning and curiosity, Eos was hesitant to give it up. She had left her family and old life behind, her parents no longer defined who she was, or who she could be. ?My father is Cairo, Last reigning King of Valhalla,? her voice faded lightly, no evidence of pride held within the softly curling syllables. It was true, her father had been the greatest and longest leading King of Alacritis. But was it really something to boast?

The girl seemed to grow irritated, but the serpent would not back down. Instead she found it entirely too amusing; charm had little place here, not where free entertainment was concerned. Perhaps it was foolish of Medusa to assume this girl would never become anything of great importance. It would also seem that the younger would misunderstand her speech, a fact that also amused the wicked wench. ?I never said it did. But it tells of your mother?s presence in your life, which tells a bit of your story,? she informed. A princess, eh? Was she the sort who rebelled against the image, or who thought she deserved everything upon a polished platter? Medusa was not certain, but she supposed the judgment was one she could make as their conversation went on. It would seem she?d also misinterpreted the woman?s question of ownership, and her response earned the beauty a quirked brow. ?Then it is your father who owns you. You see, your surname, if you have one, is a mark of your ties and loyalties. You belong to your family, unless I am being presumptuous, in which case I apologize, and you have had some sort of terrible falling out,? she spoke, the word presumptuous accented heavily in a joking way. After all, their conversation had mostly been based upon what the serpent had been presuming.

The dame was growing increasingly unsure; somehow she had managed to involve herself in a conversation far deeper than intended. Opinions of her company were still undecided, though Eos was able to mildly appreciate the ladies character, she still wouldn?t advocate that she pleasured it. The banshee?s way of lyrics were arousing a sense of confusion, previously confident in her responses Eos was starting to think there was far more to this woman?s outlandish words than she had initially contemplated. Cairo didn?t own her, perhaps when she was dependant babe, yes- but not now. Nobody would or could own the lady, she throw herself into a death match with thirty ravenous wolves before she allowed them to claim ownership of her physical or mental being. Though perhaps she had interpreted the queen?s speech in a way that wasn?t intended. ?One should never presume anything, for almost always they will find themselves surprised,? the youth had now relaxed slightly, though her words still remained somewhat dull and disengaged. ?I have chosen to not be involved with my family, so therefore, no I do not ?belong? to them in any way or form. And yes, you are being somewhat presumptuous; some day you may come to realise that not everybody follows the system of society.? Her tunes paused, emerald gaze still held to the femora?s own, ?Would you suggest you ?belong? to somebody? Or do you think yourself an exception of this apparent culture you preach??