eurynomê abraxas forget safety, be notorious /sobs about short crappy starter There is a shift in the air. Where once there was bitter cold there was no a pleasant warmness. Her coat had long grown thick for the winter, and the sudden change in temperature brought with it an uncomfortable heat, a mild annoyance—Eurynomé had long adopted a scowl, obsidian lips turned downwards, teeth glinting in the harsh sunlight. But his scent was riddled all over the place, over every rock, every lumbering tree. Even the palm fronds swung in his name, the salt wind howling his name; it lead her, pleasant claws against her cheeks, guiding her in his direction. Amon. For too long had she not seen her cousin; it came first as an ache, some hidden ferocity kindled deep inside of her; as each of their remaining ilk departed for these lands the ache grew into a festering wound. Eventually, Eurynomé departed herself, and took with her nothing but her unfaltering purpose, what all she had worked for, all the things she’d grown to protect and perfect. No longer would she sit idle. Massive paws pressed against the soft firmament, gentle tickling grasses crushed underneath, unfurling claws digging into the dirt for traction with each purposeful step. Here, the vines were gnarled and tangled, curled around the remains of the trees they’d long beaten and overcome. How fitting, she thinks, that their home should be here. Her deep icy gaze trails each curve of the vines, grapes long fruitful given the warm and wet season. The sky had long already become choked with gray clouds, a distant rumbling resonating from further south a promise of rain to come. Once Eurynomé had found the entrance, she ambled inside—careless of the borders, respectful only because it is in her nature to be lawful of her family, but knowing all too well her presence would be welcomed before it was driven out. Eventually, a low and beckoning call echoed from her lips, hoping to catch the attention of any near; above her the vines were tangled in their thick canopy, allowing nothing more than flittering and dappling light through.

CODE & ART BY LYNX

Afternoon sunlight spilled golden rays down Ashiel's sore back. He'd been training with his mother the previous day and the strenuous activity had led his body to stiffen and protest at the treatment. The warmth of the sun felt glorious but he knew he'd need to get moving agin. To lay still for to long would only cause the stiffness to worsen and he couldn't allow that. A beckoning call proved the motivation he needed and he stood with grace that belied his muscular build. The call was foreign to him and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Was this someone wanting to join? Perhaps a messenger from one of the mortal packs? Ashiel strode confidently into the tangled vines of the cathedral, peridot eyes searching for the source of the call. When at last they fell on the woman his hackles raised immediately upon realizing she was inside the packs borders but her scent was tinged with familiarity and so he did not attack. He did not recognize the exact scent but something about it as well as the markings that stained her coat whispered of the name Abraxas. Was this yet another member of his family? "Who goes there? Are you Abraxas?" "Talk" "You" Think

When Amon had come to these lands, he thought it likely that his own blood kin might follow in his trail. The Abraxas family was expansive, with wings that spread far and wide through many distant realms, but his father's children were all relatively close knit. That being said, Amon had also been raised alongside many cousins as well, and while he was unsurprised so few of Kronnoah's progeny had found their way to Auster, Amon would recognize one of them as easily as his own littermates. Ashiel of course, did not have such a luxury, but at least the boy had the sense to not lose his head over it like others might have. Courteous, but stern. Yes, perhaps Amon did see what his sister meant when she intended for the boy to lead. "Stand down, Nephew," he said with calm familiarity, voice rumbling out of him as he strolled up to meet them. "This is mine and your mother's cousin, Eurynome. Eurynome, this is Ashiel Abraxas, Pyralis' boy." Introductions aside, Amon sat. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he said, realizing that it had taken him longer to heed her initial call than he would have thought. "When did you arrive in these lands? I haven't seen you in years, it seems." He couldn't in truth recall the last time they had crossed paths, but he wondered what it was that might have driven her here. "Do you carry news from home?" With Skia's arrival, he had learned of Kronnoah's death, but as far as he knew his own father was still alive. He wondered if there were notable mentions from other places, or if she had simply followed the sounds of something stirring, like all the others. And if he was able to use the moment as a test of his nephew's ability to receive strangers well, all the better. "Talk" "You" Think