My, my, look what a mess you?ve made she thought to herself as she continued to twist her head, attempting to lick clean the raw flesh that sat over her shoulder. It was impossible; every time she turned her neck that direction, the sprain it had received would make her wince. Even if she had been able to turn her head, licking at the wound in such a direction would be almost impossible. Blood oozed freshly from her wounds, and the majority of the injuries were in places that the new Madame could not reach. Shit fuck god damn it she cursed in her head, eventually relaxing and letting herself bleed. Victory had not come at a free price, and now she couldn?t make her own body heal. She found her way to the water, sipping quietly from its surface. There was little to be done until she found a healer, except for relax and try to do little things. Drinking water would help; hydration was key in circumstances such as these. She had to hold out, to keep herself from bleeding too much, and await the first who would come across her. It didn?t have to be a skilled healer; merely somebody who was willing to put pressure on her wounds and stop the blood that spewed down along her midnight-colored fur. She doubted this would be the last time she bled in such a way, not after what she?d accomplished. A chill ran through her bones as she thought of Jupiter. What had become of the woman who owned her blackened heart, what would Medusa find if she were to return to the battlefield? The thoughts were heavy in her mind, like a murder victim?s corpses sinking to the bottom of an arctic ocean. She felt like grieving, and yet she wouldn?t. She had to stay confident in Jupiter, and she would never let anyone think about how such a thing affected her.

At the close of the battle a storm had brewed. Snow had begun to settle in the battlefield but on the trail home the snow turned into heavy rain. He had trailed Medusa since she had exited her victorious fight to insure that no others would follow her. His trail had been silent and paced so the woman would not find him. Though his pelt was obvious against the snow it was near impossible to spot Deteste in a storm. It was under the condition of a storm that he worked his best. His affect had remained stoic since he had left Jupiter's match and in every flash of lighting there was no emotion that touched his face. Even his heart was slow. Cold as the ice beneath his calloused feet.



Deteste had never met this woman but he nearly clearly knew who she was and the behavior that was likely to greet him once he settled to care for her. He had felt confident that both Jupiter and Medusa would be the victors in this harrowing event. It was not a lack of confidence that drove Deteste to follow the woman in the eve of her victory. It was irrevocable sense of duty that he could not help. Much as his desire burned to watch Jupiter rip the throat from the crazed son of a bitch she was putting down. Even thinking of her now, miles from her, his lips grew taut and an nervous twitch in his tail swung it angrily against the trunk of a near by mangrove. He also knew of Medusa's attachment to the Sol. He need not speak of it with Jupiter but to simply witness their interactions afar. Though his desires for Jupiter were radically different from Medusa's, their fixation on the russet, lavander-eyed woman was very much the same. Deteste didn't want to fuck her, he didn't really want to fuck anyone honesty (perhaps he was getting old), but he had a fervent desire to serve her in any and every way and he would obey her every demand even as she planned to send him miles from herself and from Ludicael into Amenti territory.




The shower broke but the thunder and lightning persisted. A violent strike of the immaculate light revealed the man mere feet from Medusa, his dampened pelt dripping and slicked to the lean muscle in his body. What are your wounds? he spoke, timbre languid, observing her more obvious wounds cooly as the words slipped in the form of white mist from his jowls. He shook, drying himself best he could in this manner, before closing the distance between them and taking a seat next to the new queen and the woman he would be serving beside. A woman who would not be Jupiter. He eyed her, his cerulean glance piercing. I think you know who I am. He stated, giving the woman a pause before folding his neck and tending to the wound she could not reach with a tender but thorough stroke.



"speech"

She knew that she ought to go back to the battle, to observe her dear vixen as she had once desired. Oh, Jupiter would look ravishing in the blood of her enemies. But somewhere along the line her physical fixation had developed into something more, something deeper, something which bound the harlot to her and that hurt. Somehow, the thought of her former Queen covered in blood did not override the nagging fear in the serpent?s heart that she would not come back. In her world, such an occurrence had to be impossible. How could a cold-blooded snake exist without the touch of a bright ray of sun? The thoughts and fears distracted her, and somehow they slipped from her mind completely. The bite of teeth on her scruff, the panicked beating of her heart loud enough for her ears to hear it, reassurances that this was what her Mama had wanted her to do. A flash of lightning revealed a dark figure close to her, and for a moment the serpent readied herself, body tensing and jaws pulling upwards in a rare moment of surprise. It was not often that Medusa found herself in such a state, and quickly she relaxed. The face was familiar, the male Sol of the pack if she was correct. ?My, my, a gentleman caller, what am I to do with myself,? she said, teasing of course. ?She did a number on my shoulder, my neck, and I think she sprained my leg too,? she answered, dropping the flirtation quickly. Perhaps if she hadn?t been in such a deplorable mood she would have kept on with it, but for now she felt distant. Games didn?t seem quite so appealing when she thought the most important thing in her insignificant life might be little more than a corpse. He sat next to her, and the proximity was not something Medusa was used to. Well, she was used to it when she invited it, when she wanted it in an intimate way, but not in an innocent manner. Touch, for as long as she could remember, had always been about sex. It had always been about taking from her, and she was not certain how to handle this new situation. He announced that she should know who he was, and she chuckled. ?I know your name, but that does not mean I know who you are,? she told him. No, names and personalities were two distinctly different things. ?Are you an angel or a sinner? Are you a dog or a traitor? So far I only know that, no matter what you hide beneath, when you fuck your pretty little mate she calls you Deteste,? she said, classy as ever. His attention to her neck made her shiver in pain, and she felt vulnerable, but she did not show it. Medusa was a snake, yes, and snakes struck when vulnerable, but the comparison was one that could be lost in some ways. She did, after all, have a bit of control. ?Why have you come for me??she inquired. To her, it made no sense why he would not wait for the results of Jupiter?s fight, unless he knew them already. Part of her panicked; would he be here alone if Jupiter had one? Where was her sun? Where was her vixen?

Deteste eyed the harlot before him carefully, engraving her face of surprise in his memory before the fleeting expression was gone. Medusa, he figured, was not the kind of person one could become sincerely involved with. He understood that the vulnerability that he had unwittingly forced her into was not something he would likely see again. It was not a power trip he was after. He didn't relish in preserving another's weaknesses. To share an intimate moment with someone whose emotions were so professionally bottled was something that touched him. Though the feeling did not warp his emotionless facade.



He chuckled through his teeth, though the mirth was sincere. He appreciated the wit of her words and the dialect of her speech. Medusa's blood was metallic and warm in his mouth. Gritty in the areas that had stuck stiffly against her pelt. It was not an unfamiliar flavor. It was not an inhibiting texture. She spoke but in his intent grooming and dull mood he could not find the desire to respond. For her vulgar statement Deteste returned a muffled chuckle. It had been long since he and Laxago had, had any such contact. And, frankly, there wasn't a tight body in the world that could ignite his desire to fuck. He moved slowly from Medusa's shoulder to her neck. Thoroughly cleaning the wound, stimulating clotting and grooming the iridescent blood stains on her pelt. It was as if he was on autopilot. Having groomed Laxago so many times in this way. Disregarding the wounds, the woman would appear immaculate when Deteste was finished.




With a gentle but firm grip Deteste took an unscathed section of the woman's scruff in his teeth, pulling her closer and into an angle that allowed access to her leftward wounds and sprain, which he would attend to once he had thoroughly stoppered her bleeding. He could have simply asked the woman to move but he was not used to the surly speech she had spoken to him earlier and he wanted to show her that he could cause her discomfort as well. At the close of her question Deteste lifted his crown, licking his jowls as he thought which had become rather messy with the woman's blood. He eyed Medusa at every moment. I am confident in Jupiter. he spoke, I advised her and I expect a bloody and thorough victory. When she returns all of Ludicael will celebrate. Many will tend to her wounds. In the eve of your victory you earned the hate of Amenti. Had I not come you would be alone. his timbre was not gentle but the honesty was not brash. Jupiter intends to send me to Amenti with you. You're my Madame now and I am a dutiful man.

"speech"

Deteste?s touch was so strange with her, and Medusa for once was not quite certain what to do. Oh yes, being provocative was certainly in the question, but most of the serpent?s saucy words came from a distance. Only when she wished for something closer did she dare to close the barrier of contact, especially now when she?d experienced the pain that physical teasing could bring to her. She remembered brushing against one of them ever so slightly, and then she remembered being dragged into the dirt, being restrained and pushed down. The serpent shook her head; she did not get to feel bad about that situation. That had been a hole she?d dug all by herself, a horror that had been all her own fault. Now, she wondered if Jupiter?s ambiguous state was also her own doing. Could she have convinced the Sol to stay, to save her energy, to save herself? Sure, she could win this battle, but would she outlive the war to come? Oh, why hadn?t Medusa just killed the goliath of a woman when she had her down and unconscious. His grooming earned him a pleased purr, despite how vulnerable it made her feel. It was nice to have somebody to look after her wounds, especially since the positioning made it near impossible for her to do so. He said nothing in response to Medusa?s prodding, instead gently grabbing her scruff and dragging her close. It, admittedly, threw her off slightly. It brought back memories, and then she locked it all away once more. Her neck hurt for an instant, stinging from the pain of the slight sprain it had received when Newt had tried to shake the life out of her. The pain would fade eventually, but for now it hurt. She turned her gaze to Deteste as he spoke, knowing that she ought to be confident in Jupiter, too. ?I do not doubt she will win, but the thought of not having her is enough to unsettle me,? she admitted quietly. There was a distant look in her eyes, and for a moment she lived in the possibility of finding her russet beauty bloodied and broken. At his mention of the hatred of Amenti she chuckled. ?Do I seem like a woman who has ever had many friends, dollface?? she purred. Friends weren?t her style; she had acquaintances and temporary lovers, and Jupiter. Enemies were also common, but anything else was foreign to her. The announcement that this man would accompany her to Amenti made her chuckle. She did not mind it, for she supposed that she did need a babysitter. ?I am guessing that Jupiter does not think I can play well with the grownups,? she chuckled. ?Are you certain you want to do this? There is a group of untold numbers likely desiring my head, a group of wolves who want their home back above all else. And if?when Jupiter comes home, do you not think they?ll want her head, too? Who will protect my sun if we are both so far away?? she ask the male. It was a good question, and one she meant seriously. All attempts at seduction had been dropped for now; it was a side of her that few got to see, a side of her that Deteste was now privy to.

After speaking Deteste returned to Medusa's wound but her purring was unexpected. Or perhaps it was the sincerity of the purring was what surprised De who at the sound gave a mintue pause, pink tongue retreating into his mouth, softening his otherwise callous affect. Again the intimacy between them had unsettled him and again he felt the pull to relish the unexpected moment. Deteste wondered what this woman would have in store for him and how their relationship would unfold as they worked together. Her words did little to move him emotionally. He was an unexpected expert at handling the woman's manipulative powers. Whether or not Medusa's intention was to flirt just to have a reaction from a counterpart was enough to satisfy her. But her statements slid off of Deteste like water and even her passionate concern for Jupiter did not move him into an immediate response.


I am not babysitting you, Medusa. I volunteered to follow you to Amenti. He explained, timbre frank. There were many reasons behind Deteste's intention to serve Medusa but babysitting was not one of them. He did not know the woman and in this moment did not know enough about her to judge whether or not she would be a successful leader. But she was here. Victor of Amenti. What Deteste wanted out of Amenti was a challenge. He could be content living the rest of his life peacefully in Ludicael but he would never achieve more. He was Sol. He would patrol the borders. He would accept members. He would hold pack meetings. This was his life stretched out before him and in recent thought he was unsure that this was how he desired to live out the rest of his life. Amenti would be a challenge and everyday he would be reminded of his darker roots and everyday it would make a more honest man of him.


Jupiter will be fine. She will not be alone once we are gone. The sol had an entire pack of capable wolves to protect her. Her members were loyal. It was something that could not simply be explained in words and he hoped that Medusa would understand simply through his reassuring sentence. I know what I am doing. And those wolves will make the new Amenti their home. As for challengers I will take your place in the event that a challenge occurs before you are recovered. He paused for a moment, resuming the grooming, snaking his way towards her sprained forelimb and only speaking again after a long stroke of the tongue that smoothed her pelt from her chest to her left wrist. I kill all challengers. His eyes lifted, seeking her gaze, There will be few left for you if they are so desperate. and offering her a toothsome smile before standing, taking her left limb gingerly in his teeth and pulling it into his chest with a quick, sure stroke meant to set the sprain to it's rightful alignment. He prepared himself for a violent reaction to the treatment but he knew that he pain of the realignment would pass quickly and alleviation would soon take the place of the ache.

"speech"

She had killed. Her jaws had torn out the throat of another and her stance had allowed his crimson to pour out upon her, cascading upon the ground without restriction. It stained her dark paws darker and tinted her soul with obsidian urges to go back and time and do it over again. To make him die more slowly. More painfully. To rip out each of his Achilles tendons in turn and hear him scream. To slit his wrists and to rip the rest of his scars and tear them asunder. To castrate him and render him shamed and without manhood to flaunt should he crash into the afterlife he so foolishly believed in. Ever since she had fought for Ludicael, she had lusted for blood in the form of a familiar, persistent itch in her paws. And yet it was still there. Influencing her decisions. Setting her on edge. Pulsing. Waiting. Watching, almost, for a moment where she would lose control and attack. But they would never know this. She would not tell a soul and only Mercury would ever even come close to hearing a whisper of it. She liberated her concern at her own thoughts with declarations of he deserved it, vowing to never do what she had done to him to another unless they too had done terrible wrongs upon the world as he had. In a way, she was back to the way she was before Ludicael; she was once more hiding who she was under a side that was much brighter than the shadows of pitch where the light could only pierce so far. The queen greeted the storm and let it cleanse her wounds, pleased that snow did not haunt the more tropical area of Ludicael. Lightning cracked across the ground and she paused only during it to see the blood washing from her fur. Her pace was slow and stiff, the adrenaline having already faded, devoured by her hungry systems as they sought relief from the pain. She experienced discomfort only from the open wounds folded and collided with fur and skin--the bruising, as she knew, would come in the morning. The sun would probably shine bright and gleefully spread its warmth, drying the excessive water from the earth, while she would probably lay in her den, only the warmth of her pups there to heat her. That was, unless there were others waiting. The lady set a paw in the borders, nares flaring to inhale her own scent, still remotely fresh despite the rains. A snorting scoff emerged from her larynx. How insignificant borders seemed to her now, after what she had done. A petty line of piss on a mangrove wouldn't have kept Kaios from crossing the borders and killing her children, eating them like he had Secret's, except this time, they would be alive and screaming. She shook such thoughts more rapidly than anything else--they were just that; alive and screaming, but more than likely for their mothers rather than in agony and fear. Tired eyes fell upon them near her den, taking shelter in the mangroves, conversing with lyrics lost upon her audits, captured by the pounding of the rain. As dark as the shadows themselves and as pitch as the tar in her soul she couldn't bring herself to escape from, they were there. Lightning flashed as she neared, offering a glimpse of her bright pelt darkened only slightly by its dampness, also revealing the drenched creature upon her back. She was soaked to the bone, fur clinging desperately to her skeleton as if it were about to fall of, tail drooping and movements sluggish with exhaustion. Fatigue turned her into a ghost of what she was before the match, and though she still exuded confidence in the upwards tilt of her chin and in the very fact of being alive and still existing with conscious thought. "My Sol," came the words, rasping from her lips and barely audible over the thunder that rumbled on the tail end of its last syllable. Celestial eyes searched to meet the other alpha's as she addressed him, and then swung to Medusa. "My love."

Babysit, follow, same difference. Medusa didn?t mind how he wrapped it up pretty, to her it meant the same thing. Either way she would have somebody to guide her, somebody to keep her from going crazy with her rules. Did she want to start a harem for a pack? The thought was entirely tempting, but in fact she did not. No, instead she had in mind a neutral pack, one that fought for peace and for the ability to live however the fuck they wanted to live. Nonetheless, there was something about Deteste that made her trust, a feat which was not easy. Medusa was a woman who was cynical and suspicious by nature, prone to questioning and doubting. But she didn?t doubt a word that fell from the Sol?s lips, and she couldn?t help but think that Jupiter had done well when picking him for her secondary alpha. He was able to comfort her at least somewhat, but it did not help calm her nearly enough. Would the members of Ludicael stop her from throwing herself in the way of Newt?s jaws in order to save her useless whelps? Would they be able to guard her in her sleep? Would they be able to take on the wrath that Jupiter and Medusa had brought upon them? Would they desert after realizing the war that the two women had brought upon their home? Time would tell. ?They are not me,? she reiterated. Deteste?s offer made her head nod, supposing it was most generous. The serpent was not used to such kindness, but she would not turn it away. Despite her victory, she was no war mongerer. No, she was a woman well aware of her body?s capabilities, talented perhaps, but she did not hunger for a battle like some might. If she could avoid one, she would. ?Quite the gentleman,? she teased. She shivered when he pressed a lick to her forelimb, finding it somewhat difficult to restrain herself. Perhaps if she wasn?t so concerned about Jupiter she might have pressed forward with advances, but she simply couldn?t in the moment. Thoughts of a beautiful, broken russet body did not make her want to fuck, didn?t make her want to do anything but wait and worry. He noted then that he would kill all challengers, a thought that she kept in store. . ?An assassin?? she inquired, intent to place a label upon this male as she had to most things in her life. His joke made her chuckled darkly, knowing that if Newt were to come again they would be prepared. She allowed him to continue his healing in silence, watching him, feeling a lust and an urge that weren?t entirely foreign to her. She wanted him, and perhaps it was then that the seed of an idea were planted. . ?You make me look like an angel,? she joked, and it was then that she saw her, her sun, her love. Oh she looked a mess but she was there, she was alive, and Medusa was quick to try to pull away from Deteste. She didn?t know why she felt so compelled but she leaped for Jupiter, almost as if trying to tackle her before stopping short, the pain in her left leg making her hiss. Her neck also stung, and she realizing that perhaps the movement had not been the smartest idea. She pressed closer, seeking to deliver heated kisses to Jupiter?s chin, a sign of submission and affection. ?My sun,? she said, passionate, sounding very childish, so very needy and clingy. . ?Oh my sweet, what a mess we have made,? she spoke, but there was no remorse in her voice. The only regret she had was putting Jupiter in danger, but now that her lover had returned, battered but not dead, she would not feel guilt or disappointment. Together, they would be a force to be reckoned with. Together, they would slay enemies. Together, they would craft the world how Jupiter saw fit.