no one can be just like me

This place smelled of death. But it wasn't all that bad. The brutish woman walked through slowly, mismatched eyes watchful of the dangers that surrounded her. She wasn't afraid of the bubbling, black pits of tar, but she wasn't stupid enough to go swimming in them either. So she made sure to keep her distance, still straying closer than most wolves in their right minds would dare to. She squinted at a skeleton that lay half submerged in the reeking stuff. Looked like an elk. Ricochet huffed out a small laugh, almost wishing she had been there to see that play itself out. Stupid creature.

It was interesting, almost amusing really, seeing how this was one of the first places the woman happened to stumble across upon her arrival in this vast new continent. She could have stumbled first across a crystalline white beach, or a gorgeous meadow, or better yet a winter wonderland complete with fluffy little rabbits running to and fro. But instead, she had pretty much landed in hell. At this thought she let a real laugh break through, continuing to walk around the various hazards this place had to offer. Just keep walking, she guessed. Hopefully this entire continent didn't smell like rotting flesh.

The Cannibal Queen. The woman that ran a portion of these lands had returned to stake her claim once again. Her pad falls might as well have been gracious war drums to any of those who heard. She had left the lands due to unfortunate circumstances. Pregnancy. Yet, against her will the creatures that grew within her gut had been terminated by the gods themselves before they got to see the light of day. It was a time of turmoil for the pristine babe. For, she was scared that she lacked the ability to produce a proper heir to her throne. Only those of the Finnvi blood should have the right to take up her place as the Queen of their name. Yet, she knew one other stood. Katja, a long reigning Queen. Or so that is what she gathered. She would have to ask around to presume that the woman was still in power. Perhaps she would even seek out the woman? Though, it was obvious they would never.. see eye to eye. Schon's mother being Svanerna and all. The tar pits, home to nothing but bubbling black shit. It smelled of gas, disgusting and unnatural scents. The lanky girl weaved through the narrow paths before her eyes fell upon another black figure, but it was alive. An obsidian femme. The Queen's head tilted to the side, her blood red eyes trained on the woman as a laugh flowed into her perked ears. What could this insolent being be laughing about? Schon slowly moved towards the beast, craning her neck forward to observe a corpse that was half way out of the tar. Schon wrinkled her nose, her tri colored muzzle making waves to expose her divine pearly whites. The cannibal shook her head for a moment, ignoring the next burst of laughter as she came up on the other being. "You laugh at the dead." Her German accent was quite clear within her illustrious tones. Her body rolled as the lady moved to stand to the side of the obsidian toned creature before her. Perhaps, to get a good look at her face. The bleeding gaze of her majesty was fine pointed. A little sneer was clear across her inky lips, obviously not amused. Despite the lanky fae's immoral values and lack of touch with reality. She had respect for those that lost their lives. Even if it was prey to tar, it was a dismal death that should be pitied non the less. This all ties in her consumption of those the conquered, to allow their spirits to live on. Through herself. Schon awaited a response, her tail low but her posture straight and strong. "speech"

no one can be just like me

Over the disgusting smell of her surroundings, Ricochet could not detect the scent of the stranger approaching her from behind. The first sign of her presence was her voice, a pretty proud and arrogant one. With an accent, too. Christ. Ricochet rolled her mismatched eyes while her back was still turned and then stopped walking to turn and face the woman. She raised one brow. "You state the obvious," she said in the same tone of voice, pompous and with what may have been an attempt at a German accent. If it was, it was a poor attempt. "Got a problem, sweetheart?" Ricochet asked in a simple voice. Her tone did not suggest that she was in any way trying to insult the woman, even if she did so involuntarily. She just really wanted to know what the hell this lady wanted. She didn't really like how close she was standing, and the way she swiveled her ebony ears back slightly made that clear.

She waited a moment for a response and then tried to take a deep breath, and failed. She wrinkled her nose and coughed once. "Whatever it is, can it wait until we're out of this awful place?" If she wanted to lecture her, or fight her, fine. But not in this hell hole.

Schon was not necessarily a being to be messed with. That may be a very... bold statement, but it has truth. The woman is blinded by her odd sense of religion that was completely twisted from old Norse Mythology. The basis of her religion derives from that, yet there is a much more spiritual sense that she has thrown into the mix. With the help of her father. The Norse side of things comes from her mother and the cannibalistic side derives from her demented father. Schon believes in fighting to the death, that death is not the end for a warrior of course. Yet, within the same, if she slays another or defeats them within a battle. She is to consume a part of their being for their strength to run through her. This leaves her at a very dangerous mindset, a very hungry mindset for power of all sorts. Therefore when her eyes meet a being of beauty of power, like the obsidian creature before her, her jowls begin to salivate for a piece of their being. To enhance herself. The woman's mind is a very fatal place for another to encounter or venture. But, she sees all she does as simply normal and a practice of religion rather then simple cannibalism. As the coal colored woman moved to eye Schon, her majesty remained still. Her gaze reeked of a lazy sense of confidence. As if she was trying to seem like she had nothing to prove. Yet, in reality she really did. Her inky lips salivated a tiny bit, as she eyed the girl before her. A beautiful creature with two different colored eyes, something rare. Something, pleasing to the eye. Yet, the sassy girls words were an instant turn off. What was meant to be witty came across as boring. Schon merely allowed her head to tilt to the side, slightly dumbfounded by the lack of depth the delicious creature before her gave off. As a question came forth, the Queen finally allowed herself to show some sort of emotion. A tiny.. twisted smile spread across those inky lips to show.. a mocking of amusement? "This creature was prey to the tar, a horribly disappointing fate for life that could of been use for something much more." Schon stared down the woman, "I do not laugh at such." The eloquent fae moved slowly to the corpse, placing an alabaster paw on the skull and pushing it deeper into the tar, allowing for its entirety to silently fade into nothingness. The only trace being tiny bubbles at the surface of the asfault. Her bleeding gaze moved back to the grey scale femme at her left, observing her for a few moments. The Finnvi could note her discomfort with both the Queen being to close and the noxious air around them. The lanky woman allowed her tail to flick for a moment before her long body swiveled to surpass the inferior beauty. Without looking back she allowed her ears to flick back and her venom injected vocals swept into the air once again, replacing disappointment with a hint of excitement. "The scent of death is gifting me with a head ache." Her hips flicked as she stalked towards the rim of the pits, eyes set upon the edge of the Dancefloor before them, a perfect escape from the tar. "Come, Little Dove." Schon's head flicked to the side, just enough to flash the woman at her rear a simple smile. Her attention soon slipped to the terrain her paws met, her mouth hanging open to inhale the refreshing air that only had tinges of gas and fear. Soon, she found a little bed of weeds above dry dirt. The serpent stopped, turning to face the brutish girl that she hoped to be following her. If she did indeed follow, more of the woman's illustrious tones came forth to form a question. "Does this one have a name?" Her head craned, sharpening her gaze enough to expose curiosity. speech

no one can be just like me

The pompous woman went on to lecture her, just as she had expected. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again, a miracle within itself, as she listened to the woman tell her of the disappointing loss of life she had been snickering at. "Honestly, it couldn't have been used for much more," she grumbled, still wrinkling her nose against the smell of death and reeking tar all around them. Had she not asked this lady to save the lectures for later? "I mean, it was a elk for crying out loud, the most it could have been was a meal," As she looked around she saw scavengers, mostly vultures, flapping safely above the boiling pits and landing only briefly as they ate of the creatures who had been trapped here. "And my guess is that it was, so don't get your tail in a twist," Ricochet said, eyeing the strange woman again.

After this, she started to turn and walk away, but the lady was already a step ahead of her. She complained of the headache the smell was giving her and beckoned Ricochet to follow. The brutish woman did not care much for being told what to do, but she was on her way out anyway so she decided to just take the same path for convenience. And maybe she would get the chance to bump this annoying woman into a tar pit on the way out. The thought made her want to laugh again, but she cleared her throat and held it in. She didn't need another fucking lecture.

"Excuse me?" she said suddenly as the pet name hit her ears. Oh, hell no. "Little dove? I'm nearly half a foot taller than you, lady, and I'd be willing to bet I'm stronger too. Keep your condescending words to yourself, or at least use them on someone actually inferior to you." Her lip curled a little as she walked ahead of the woman, tired of taking this shit from her. The sooner they got out of this place, the better. She wanted to be alone again, honestly.

"Ricochet," she told her, in a tone less friendly than before. She didn't bother to ask the woman her name; she was bound to give it anyway, with a flourish of fancy titles no doubt.

Schon lacked patience, that was nothing but the truth. The woman had a mild amount for pretty things, but not a lot. The girl, from a young age, had been known to act out on her bursts of rage. Her undying need to consume the strength of others and her anger together were a force to be reckoned with. Yet, most did not know of her willpower. The fae had been to hell and back within her life. Following her mother, being served a throne at age one, then being knocked up. On top of that she did not even had the children, they died within the womb. The femme was never truly served the life anyone promised, but that was it. Life was unfair, it was what you made it. Therefore, the strange woman made it her playground and her dining room table at in one. The haunted she-wolf stood on the edge between two lands. Noxious gasses and death filled on and beautiful trees and grasslands fills the other. What a funny border. Death and then the Dancefloor for the Gods. Perhaps the tar represents the place where the baddies go. A tiny giggle could be heard from the throat of the lanky girl as her blank eyes stared off into the pits for a moment. Yet, a burst of reality hit her as the hobbling fae she stumbled upon whipped out some vicious words. Schon's red eyes lazily moved to rest on the beast, observing her as those words filled her twitching ears. A bubbling rage filled the g u t of the Empress. Her head tilted, observing the foolish being that decided to undermine the Queen. What did mommy always say? Another giggle came forth from Schon, loud enough for the other to hear. EAT the RUDE! As Ricochet walked past the smaller Wolf, a mumble of a growl would be heard. Growing with each second. Yet, soon Schon moved to pivot on her back paw, turning to face the same direction Rico was walking. The woman stalked behind her, that usually pointed head now low. Her ears were flicked back and her tail stuck straight out. Quickly, with those oddly long legs, the cannibal was at the right side of the other fae. Her heavy breathing could be heard. Her lips were salivating, drool seeping out. A very.. rabid part of the once prim and proper bitch could be seen in those moments. "Little Ricochet is inferior." A chortle was forced from Schon once again, lingering behind Rico's shoulder. Stepping along with a sickening scowl plastered across her drool seeping lips. "You are nothing but a pretty thing." The flesh eating mongrel grew a bit closer this time, if Rico allowed her to do so. She would s n a p her teeth below the taller Wolves ear, hitting nothing but air. "Do you know what we do to.. useless.. PRETTY things?" Schon would quickly dart forward, in attempt to pivot and stand in front of Rico. Face to Face. A thin tongue would roll from its weeping cage and slither across her own pathetic lips. That bleeding gaze was brighter, pointed into the mismatch one of the inferior Wolf. "Does the imbecile have a guess?!" Her head would tilt to the side, if she was truly allowed to stand in front of her as she pleased. Yet, who could surpass such a show! speech

no one can be just like me

Ricochet was just trying to keep walking, trying to mind her own damned business. All she wanted right now was to get out of this place and get away from this woman. She was already starting to think the lady might be messed up in the head. But she hadn't seen anything yet. Ears twitched as the dark woman heard a growl behind her, steadily getting louder in the most unnerving of ways. She paused and started to look over her shoulder to see what was going on, but the woman was already there, at her side, breathing heavily and practically foaming at the mouth. Mismatched eyes widened as Ricochet stumbled back a step, honestly just trying to avoid the stream of drool that was starting to issue from the reeking jaws of the other woman. "What the hell?" she whispered to herself, about to raise her voice and ask the woman what her problem was.

But then she spoke.

Little Ricochet was inferior. Nothing but a pretty thing. With each word the larger woman felt her hackles pricking, standing completely on end by the time the last insult fell through those disgusting lips. The larger woman curled her own lip in response, a silent snarl. She hated being insulted. She hated it. Part of her, a very big part, wanted to rip into this woman for her stupid, stupid words. That part of her wanted a fight. But as the other woman pivoted to face her, she saw the truly rabid look in her eyes. This bitch was literally insane.

"No, the imbecile doesn't," she growled, narrowing her eyes. "Look, lady, I haven't the faintest idea what your problem is. But all I want is to be left alone, so why don't you take your boundless rage and go lecture a squirrel or something?" She didn't want to fight this drooling piece of insanity. Not anymore. What would be the point in trying to prove wrong a bunch of demented words anyway? It wasn't worth the effort.