Above Amon the aspen trees whispered to one another. He paused his trek along the banks of the river which fed into the broad dam system dominating this area. He wondered what it was they conversed about. What business was so critical that the trees saw fit to discuss? Was it his passing, or the coming of a message from far, far away. Either way, Amon was not privy to the business of trees and decided ultimately not to concern himself with it. It did, however, remind him how very alive this land was. While the northern continent was swathed in a deep, bitter freeze, there he stood in the balmy, humid weather at the onset of Auster's dry season. For now, thunderstorms remained frequent occurrences in the evenings. It was enough to make him grateful that he had decided to settle his family in a more forgiving climate. Prey ran in great numbers here where winter could not dig in its claws. Amon looked behind him to find Gulo snuffling along the river bank. The wolverine froze then darted forward, jaws snapping and crunching down upon a small crustacean. Amon watched the small hindquarters of a crawdad disappear into his friend's maw. Amon lifted an eyebrow and the wolverine grinned, ever the opportunist. "Talk" "You" Think

Dance with the Devil || Down the path there is a stream, but not as you know it. By nature all streams are slow-flowing, languid in pace, and lax by nature. However the stream is mighty. Many torrents of water travel its path, rapids flick up against its surface like paint flakes off a distressed door. Boulders rise out of the water like the bows of a sunken fleet, and the hiss of far off waterfalls are the screams of their drowned crew. The scent of moss and lichen be-fowls the air for leagues across. The stream is the reminder to all that witness its majesty the ignorance of presumption, and the existence of exemption. The water was green, darker in the shadows and more pale in the light, but still green she noted. Against the noise of the birds that were welcoming the new day the gentle murmur of the water can only just be heard, a backdrop to the musical notes coming from above. For all its serenity there was more danger in its swirling depths than the trees behind her that coiled into one another as if they were whispring ancient secrets. She found herself in a new land once again, leaving behind the world she knew, aiming for nothing in her life but to find them. Them. Her brother and sister, her siblings, the very trio of soiled blood as the corrupt womb with which they crawled from. But alas they created a temptress, a dragoness, her allure at such a young age was undeniable. Sensuous was the demoness as she aged from her lithe whelpen bodice into that of a full-blown woman, every curve from the luscious grace of her tapered neck to the swaying hips of each wind-graced step. Her visage alone boasts an immortality to which time holds no candle -- from the long, eloquent muzzle dipped in brown velvet to the embedded jewels of vivid champagne bewitchment mixed with just a glint of lilac pigment to further enchant those that dare to approach. "!"

Had he not looked back at Gulo, Amon might never have noticed the fae meandering about a ways downstream from them. She seemed to be taking in the power and awe of the body of water, much as Amon himself had been. Her quirked his head to the side, observing her coloration and form. The woman was lithe, long-legged and slender. Her coat was an amalgam of dull russets and golds, as if constructed from late-fall foliage, or a flame viewed through its smoke. He waited a breath for her to come a bit closer before he considered announcing himself. Looking down at Gulo, Amon leveled him with a dour glare that quite clearly said, Behave, and then raised his gaze to entrap the fae. "A beautiful day for a swim, no?" Amon's resonant voice cut across the burbling sounds of the water and the rustling of the trees. It was an unnatural protrusion in this otherwise peaceful landscape, but Amon did not mourn the loss of its tranquility. With the arrival of this woman came the ignition of his mind, as was so frequently the case. More and more these days Amon found himself inclined to study the mortals of this land. His opinions of them had not changed, but his interest in them had. To incorporate them successfully into his Empire, he would have to understand them first. Amon did not know what other deities were believed to hold sway here, but he would have to learn if he was to disillusion them. Amon did not know the mortals history of this place, but he would have to learn if he intended to rewrite it. Every new acquaintance was a chance to do so. The woman's coat was plush and luxurious, and it made Amon wonder whether or not she had been in Auster long. Amon's coat was thin, but silken; A summer coat which allowed his own svelte form to remain blatantly apparent. The titanic brute sat and remained seated, hoping that it would make his size somewhat less intimidating. Fearful wolves did not often share details of their lives without encouragement, and he would much rather earn his answers forthright. It was so much more efficient. Of course, only time would tell how willing this fae would be. "Talk" "You" Think

Dance with the Devil || Quick water is the most efficient thief of heat she knew. It takes what it does not need. The water before her will be just as she imagines it, but what other way could she find in order to purify both ber body and mind?. The water surges around her skin, rising up her limb on one side, making tiny eddies on the other. The weight of the water was almost enough to topple her, the current enough to take her far down stream. What worries her more was that at this pressure her muscles could simply give up. Venturing in such water was not a compromise and she was not a lunatic like many might think upon observing her seemingly reckless move, it was a ritual of purification, a training for both body and soul, she was purifying her thoughts but training her muscles to endure, to develop; she was steady enough not to fall to the agonyzing dangers of the water, spreading her limbs equally on each side and curling her abundant tail on her delicate spine to further aid in balance. She was not a damsel in distress, she needed no hero to come to her rescue, she was the mother fucking dragon. It was not long after that het auditory system roatated towards the source of a voice, her mind analyzing every syllable and every word without moving a muscle. Tensing her body further against the water current she remained like a stone statue, grotesquely reptilian in nature. "How joyous," she mocked in an angellic tone, voluptous, pitch black lips parted to reveal murderous canines, "Fancy to join me, stranger?" "!"

Amon was uncertain what to make of the woman's strange mannerisms. There was something unusual in her movements and the way she seemed to react to his presence. Uncertain what to make of her, but curious as well, he advanced. She slipped into the water in apparent response to his suggestion, and seemed to take to it poorly. The current was quick given the frequency of thunderstorms in the evenings, but Auster's warm dry season days were already upon them, and Amon was more than willing to partake whether this stranger found it pleasant or not. Gulo remained on the bank, hardly keen to get in the water himself. Amon watched the wolverine shrug before beginning to root about on shore for more crayfish, or maybe the occasional frog. Turning back to the woman, Amon quirked his head. "Doesn't the water suit you?" Despite her joyous proclamation, Amon read the opposite in her tense frame and calculated movements. His smile grew a fraction wider and he continued with, "I would hate to have you suffering on my account." It seemed a contradictory thing to say, Amon reflected, given that he had wrought a great deal of suffering in his years. For the moment it was true. The woman was odd but Amon did not yet consider her to be a threat, merely a curiosity, and so did not wish her any harm. He wondered what it was about the river's cool flow that she found unpleasant, but in the end it wasn't his business telling some strange fae what she should and should not be doing. If she suffered, it was after all her own fault. "Talk" "You" Think

Dance with the Devil || Warm and humid - such an enchanting and toxic combination. Bones were polished, skeletal tapestries unravelled beneath her gracious limbs as she remained un moved from her place, the quick current might push her around but the whole point of training was to fight against it. Pomegranate optics, smooth over the frame of the strange wolf, standing tall he approched curiously; men were always curious, weren't they? "Suffering is optional." angellic sonates rolled from voluptous lips, coated in a thick egyptian accent. "Pain and pleasure mix splendidly." Facial emotions were a poisoned kiss of vampiric empathy. She was anemic yet sweet; her bared canined displayed their carmine stoicism in a thick purr of carnality from within her chest. "But you look like a man that already knew that. " Elegant, sculpted browlines curve in expectation, their languid language of bitching scrutiny; she was of a foxy superiority and it flushed above lethal flirtations that she could not help but initiate yet her rosy cheeks were brilliant in stained warmth, almost made her seem alive, almost made her seem...pure. "!"

The woman's words were cryptic, her tone lilting and carrying some weight which spoke to Amon of hidden intentions. No matter. She had a nigh otherworldly appearance. Her coat had the coloring of a dying ember, though the fae was clearly unaffected by the water. He watched as she held fast against the current, even as it tugged at her and insisted she follow its course. There was something to admire in the small rebellion, even if he did not entirely understand it. "Pain and pleasure mix well," he would agree, "though I've found the mixture is most potent when it is shared between two wolves instead of one." Preferably with one experiencing the pain, and another the pleasure. He read poise and self-assurance in the woman's sultry movements and luxurious tone of voice. The self importance practically radiated off of her. He restrained a scoff, swallowing it to keep his face arranged only for the sake of courteous pleasantries and nothing more. Yes, women like her were all the same. Thinking themselves clever when the truth was Amon could hardly walk a mile without finding some vixen so delusional as to think they were dangerous. But he would play her game, for now. There was still much to learn. "My name is Amon Abraxas," he introduced himself. If nothing else, the titanic shadow was courteous. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing whom I address?" A gentlemen was always better received than a vagrant. Each new acquaintance was a gift from the Fallen God, if only he would be blessed with the knowledge of how to twist it to his favor. The woman would serve some sort of purpose. Every wolf had one, did that not? So he would determine it, or be on his way. But Amon was already growing bored of her presence, so he did hope she would hurry it along. "Talk" "You" Think

Dance with the Devil || An elegant woman, she was slender, her own figure and poise spring royalty to mind, a modern marie antoinette as mile-long limbs carried her towards the man- her fur hang longer than most, though not absurdly so, luxurious as her darkened frame, only a wisp on the wind, was made of warm hues despite her icy exterior. Tendrils flowing with the water, voluptous frame accentuated by spidery hair threads that stuck to her reptilian bodice; wet, sensual fur, almost russet brown, coats her body. Warm reds begin to set in down her lengthy neck. Amidst all of this, her eyes are an icy pomegranate orange, yet another remnant of her mother and ever observing the male stranger before her. Her pace lessened as she approached, taking in his stature, his fibre, analyzing the beast as he carried himself gracefully, speaking in tongues of mannerism, eloquently. His voice penetrated her auditory system. He was a man that knew pain and pleasure. What was he? Clearly someone that belong to some sort of establishment, the scent of others staining and mixing within his own fragrance. Powerful. Male. It was clear by his appearance alone he was someone important but how important? Could she use that to her own advantage? A name he offered and wanted hers in return. "Why bother?" came the lustrous purrs of the siren, a vibrato within the babe's ribcage, "Nephthys is the name you seek." she continued after taking a breath, "But be warned,I’m not my name. My name is something I wear, like a necklace. It gets worn. I outgrow it, I change it." "!"