Leera noses her way through the draping vines, all crisp and brown in winter's breath, parting them to reveal the same falls she'd visited only a short time ago. She hasn't meant to return to this place, or perhaps she has meant this precisely; there's a lingering, dull-ache of familiarity to this oasis. She recalls it, not these falls, but falls on the other side of the world, miles and miles from here, falls she might've once considered home. Home. Her ears fold tight against her head. Those falls, the ones plaguing her memory, are not home and had never been. Home is not where your children are left dead and bleeding. Children. She hasn't remembered them in weeks. In fact, she finds it easiest to push every echo of them out of her mind, erase every mental photo she's taken of them. Three litters over the years and she has nothing to show for it -- yes, her children were strong, leaders undoubtedly, but they were also dead. There's no use in remembering what could never be. Leera slid her tongue over her teeth, growling gently to herself, trying hard to forget the ghost feeling of their tiny muzzles against her teats. They were dead. They are dead. They mean nothing to her now. They can't. Leera steps through the decaying leaves, finding a spot near a half-frozen pool to groom herself. speech action

It was merely by chance that the Egyptian Goddess happened to be trodding in the same direction as the ashen woman that she had run into a few days before. Leera. The name still tasted foreign on her tongue but oh, so, so sweet. It was actually her delicious perfume that sparked her attention. The young woman was a repeat offender. She liked to take the same victim twice. Actually, she was plagued with mild interest to see what she had been up to. Brown teacups paws brushed the ground as she danced her eloquent tale through the snow, it now reached her ankles but she knew soon it was meant to get worse. She was not a fan of jungles or loud noises. They grew musty and damp in a matter of moments. Clearly a bad hair day waiting to happen. But they did offer good cover. And she was always in need of a good covering. Her mind remained focused on stalking her darling toy. The Egyptian Goddess considered it common knowledge to always be prepared and know where you were. So, as she followed the ashen woman she took note of everything. Anything that would be useful on the way back; paths, trees, trails, tundra, she attempted to register all the informations within her dear mind. Finally, her pace slowed as watched the wrench slow down. Her next actions didn't surprised her, a growl vibrated through the chilly air, coming from the same woman she, dare say, was stalking. Something was wrong with her but she could not quite put her claw on it; curosity being what it is, she decided to make her presence known to the ashen woman. Graceful steps upon the ice brough her near the other, coming to a half only two tails lenght of her and choose silence as her weapon; sometimes it was best if the other ones started the socialization, Leera being as she was maybe she did not care for company. Speech

She picks at a tangle in her tail with her teeth, letting the silence of the chill fall all around her like a sort of comfort. Even the constant crashing of water seems softer now, as if it is mourning as well, freefall slow and muted by what Leera knows is the cold but hopes is empathy. Combing through the silky locks of creamy fur, she lets her eyes roll back into her head as she closes her lids in thought. Winter is here, and it's common knowledge that empires built during the whitefall season are seldom long standing. She'll have to wait for the spring blooms to return to do any real recruiting. WIth this thought, she lashes her tail grudgingly, but she knows this will be the best route. "Nephthys," she says, pausing when she catches the familiar scent on the air. Pink eyes slide open and she tilts her head, peering through the frosted ferns. It's true that Leera tolerates the company of the so-called goddess. Although, it's admittedly. But now, in these too-familiar, too-quiet falls, she's probably more accepting of her company than she'll ever be. Perhaps some silvertongued banter will take her mind off a certain pair of murdered boys. "Miss me already, flower? Come sit." The early evening starlight glints off the tip of her fang as she offers a smirk. speech action

Subtle movements were made as her audits flickered, picking up the revenous noises, this place was bursting with life, fauna and flora. Nearby the Egyptian Goddess could hear the source of the cascade; the witch inhaled deeply, her chest expanding, taking in the oh so familiar perfume of the ashen queen once again. Be it fate or coincidence, I do not believe in neither, jewel. her soft hiss, dulcer, serene was emitted from the shadows, the kind that penetrates the mortal body to fester in the soul and suck you dry from the inside out, the ones that embrace your souless shell, wraps themselves around your heart only to bleed it out of existence. The witch allowed herself a few moments to regain herself, sinisterly lurking, before she let the shadows fall from her slender, exotic bodice. Reptilian, chiseled by the finest of artisant. The darkness fell like satin egyptian fabric from her long, narrow jaw line before dragging painfully slow down to her womanly, sensual body; taking a bit too long to drag from her abdominal area, seemingly enlarge by just a notch. Finally, it fell to the ground and the witch was revealed in all her foreign splendor. Penny for your thoughts? she questioned in a long, ghoulish hiss, foreing-kissed lips wrapping their accent within each singular word. Leisure, her walk was as slow as the shadows, as the darkness; one mile-long limb in front of the other, calculating, grace present even in the curvature of her toes, touching the ivory blanket of winter. The agonizingly slow pace turned to a half right besides the ashen queen, as she swayed her hips softly, gracing the eartn with her posture as she sat on her haunches. Her abdoment region slightly grazed the ground, not notichable unless personally close. Speech

Leera watches with ease as the femme moves her way, drawing nearer in those same liquid motions that had first caught her eye. She flits the end of her tail and rolls onto her side, inviting her companion to join her at the edge of the motionless pool. "Penny for your thoughts?" Leera only smiles, gently, woundedly. There are many things that the wolfess keeps from conversation, and hidden among them are her three litters. She doesn't believe in bringing up what could never be; perhaps she also believes that speaking their names on her tongue again will sting worse than that final time. Turning her pink gaze to the frozen pool, she lets a quietness build betweent them, only it isn't strange to her. It's comforting. "Nephthys, I am sure you've loved something very much during your life," she begins when the time is right, when the breeze picks up and tosses a few lone snowflakes into the air. She stretches her paws out in front of her, not necessarily looking at Nephthys but rather watching some point in the distance with ease. "As have I." That is all she would reveal. At least, at this particular point in time. She blows a sigh through wet nostrils and lets those images of those tiny pup faces fall away into the blackness she allows. But at the same time, Leera's mind is also interested in her companion's thoughts, although she'll never admit it. "Tell me a story, flower." That's the closest she'll come to asking someone about their past. speech action

The witch succumbed to the placid atmosphere quickly, gracefully (or as gracefully as she could in her current state) allowing her slightly fattened abdomen to collide with the white blanket of snow that covered the vast terrian, resting besides her companion. She allowed her ebon, long lashes to flutter and obscure her glittering violet eyes from view as well as conceal the view of her surroundings that had been consumed by the crisp hues of winter. A moment of peace, relaxation, her auditory system catching the winter, chilled breeze that ruffled her luxurious pelt in cascades, alloowing herself to completely sense the bite of it on her isabelline-white skin under it without as much as tensing a muscle against it. She inhaled the difference scents that adorned the woodlands; the trees, the animals and if she tried hard enough she was almost sure she could almost taste the scents of other wolves not that fat from here, mixing, more than one or two but just thoughts of curiosity were pushed from her mind before she mate a mental note of it. Rapid and raspy breathing gradually shifted to a more sluggish rate as her heart pulsated less frequently, the comforting silence draining a majority of her anxiety and distress from the confines of her diseased mind and dreadful situation, urging a moment of serenity upon the wretched wraith that was ultimately demolished as the melodious voice of the ashen queen flooded her auditory system, causing her lids to snap open to reveal glaring and fiery gaze. Love? the witch repeated the word as if it burnt , arching a thin eyebrow in question. Of course she knew of it, she had felt it before for her parents, for her siblings and for her dear beloved, Setekh that abandoned her a second time. I used to know it, that much is true. she offered softly, stretching her toes before her, attempting to reach a more comfortable position for her abdominal region yet as she pondered her question, images of Setekh, of her beloved brother and mate flooded her mind; she was sure that if she closed her eyes now she would see him there, before her. Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you vulnerable. It opens your chest and someone can mess you up in an irrecuperable way. her voice was dark and heavy, violet eyes gazing at a single dot, far in the distance, maybe even over the horizon yet her optics were out of focus; there was nothing there, not anymore. As she slowly came back to her own reality she was fortunate enough to catch a few words from the ashen queen sentence and put them together. A story? She was no story teller but she doubted this was what the woman wanted. No. There was more behind it. She took a quick glance towards the other physique, studying her expression as her gaze fell in the distance. Once upon a time, she cleared her throat, allowing her crown to rotated towards the horizon line once more, in a deserted land a God descended from the skies. He wore the colors of the very sand he stood on and his fur glowed the same way the sun does. The God choose a pure breed woman to bed him and be his beloved and for season to end they where happy together in their serene area, no matter how harsh were the ways or laws of the desert. her claws dug through the earth in front of her, Their marriage resulted in a litter that he had abandoned within two seasons. They did not know why or how, he just vanished without a trail exactly like he came. her luxurious tail slashed behind her, exposing her abdomen even more, as her voice started to slightly break, They were left to fend for themselves. Their mother, she sighed darkly, heavily, it was too much for her. To feed and protect four pups. She died. a relatively long pause took place while the witch was softly mouthing a inaudible prayer. They were scared. So scared. And oh, so hungry. They had to. They had to do it. They had to eat her. It was the only way they could make it. It was the only way they could survive. Otherwise.. it was then that the witch began to hyperventilate, the words coming out of her mouth in a rapid and harsh current of events that for some ears might not make any sense. otherwise.. she broke so softly, like a porcelain doll, breaking into a million pieces as silently, the pearl-shaped tears rolled down her sculpted, high cheek-bones from wide luminous eyes. If it were for her she would describe her sadness like death by a thousand paper cuts, for every time she remembered her loss it was another cut to her already damaged mind. None were enough to kill her, but overtime their accumulation bled her of the humanity she had once had. She once felt love and lost it. The second time she was reunited with her siblings she lost them as well. And now.... And now I will die too. I cannot do this, Leera. she shook her crown violently, abruptly raising to her haunches, I can't do this. I cannot end up like her! The sadness and scare flowed through her veins and deadened her mind. It was a poison to her spirit, dulling her, killing off her other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was as if a black mist had settled upon her and refused to shift, and no matter how bright the day was she would feel no sun and hear no bird song. For the world was lost to her the moment she had the first morning sickness and then the second and the third, and she knew of nothing that would bring it back into focus. Speech

Leera nods, agreeing wholeheartedly with Nephthys words about love. The wolfess likes to believe she's above that sort of thing, feelings, but she also knows that even an icehearted creature like herself can't escape such horror. At least, she couldn't for her children. They are the only thing she's ever truly, undoubtedly loved. And now they are gone. She watches her companion steadily, noting everything from the weight of her voice to her downturned lashes to the slight swelling in her belly. Eating well, she dismisses, but now that she examines it there's a slight shift in the smell of the air. A change in energy, in aura. Nephthys begins her story, and while Leera listens hard to it, nodding along, she's also watching the woman's abdomen. It is larger. Rounder. Even if only by slightly. Ears lower against her head as she learns about the God who abandoned his litter, their mother forced to look after and provide for the children herself. She gives a small shake of her head, frowning gently, when Nephthys continues to tell about the mother's death and the children's hard, gruesome choice. It all seems to be getting to Nephthys, Leera notices, and she attempts to soothe the other woman by pressing her shoulder into her side. But there's a crack in her voice and suddenly Nephthys sits up, voice shrill and heartbreaking and despserate all at once. "You won't end up like her," she tries to coax her back to reality, speaking in a hushed tone. It's strange; it's almost as though Leera feels sympathy for her companion. But as Nephthys sits up now, raised on her haunches, it's clear to see what she's been referring to. Leera glances down, swallows once, and puts a paw on her Nephthys'. "You are with child, flower. Is this what plagues you so?" She wants to say more, but she feels maybe it's smarter to let Nephthys explain to her what's going on. speech action

Her luminous eyes dripped with tears. Her walls, the walls that hold her up, make her strong just... collapse. Moment by moment, they fall. Salty drops fall from her chin, drenching her luxurious chest fur. Perhaps these tears will help wash the blood out once she completes the abortion. Abortion. An abortion is a form of spiritual self-harm, it isn't an action she would take if the alternatives didn't scare her more. It is only healthful to bring a child into a world where it can receive what it needs. The world was cruel. Empty, void of any kindness and benefic emotion; he knew that first hand. Her own mother was left alone, she too had a fling in a way and she was her mother's daughter, a spiteful image, mirroring her actions. Only that she was not going to repeat her mistakes. She was not not going to bring this litter into this world only to be raised with a missing patriarchal figure, a mess of a mother and end with her being dead.  The witch press her crown against the ashen queen, strangely feeling something that could only be described as safety... Pups, so innocent... She was anything but innocent. She was trembling. I can't-can't stop.  Even as she presses herself against the other woman until their fur becomes one, fine hair threads mixing together until you could not know which was which it still shakes, it still trembles. It's raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. I can't stop... I can't stop. Why can I not stop those fucking tears? she sobbed into her chest unceasingly. The pain flushed over her in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths. I cannot have them, Leera. I will not have them. When she cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound and maybe in fact it was. The witch never passed through the trauma of her mothers death nor the one of her own blood abandoning her for a second time like she was a piece of fucking trash or the butt of a cigarette that is being thrown and crushed after being used. I have to abort them. Help me abort them, Leera. the sobs were stifled at first as she attempted to hide her grief while vocalizing her fears, then overcome by the wave of her emotions she would break down entirely, all her defences washed away in those salty tears. When she at last turned her visage to the ashen queen she was a picture of grief, loss, devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if hse could do it again. Speech

Nephthys doesn't have to answer for Leera to recieve an answer. Suddenly, the other woman's overcome with emotions, her lithe body racked with sobs, her tear-stained face buried into the lush brown fur of her breast. Having never experienced something like this before, Leera isn't sure what to do, but she knows she needs to provide comfort. She closes her eyes, something symapathetic crossing her face like a shadow, and leans her body into Nephthys' in attempt to steady her. She keeps her paw on Nephthys', letting her muzzle press gently into the woman's wet fur. Leera stays silent and lets her cry, all the while her own thoughts in a frenzy. Leera only moves away when Nephthys becomes frantic, desperation shrill in her voice as she tells Leera that she can't have the children that have sprouted in her womb. "You are strong enough to bear these children, flower," she says, certainty in her voice that doesn't even have to be forced. She knows Nephthys can do it. "And you won't be alone, I can help watch over them." Leera watches her friend with urgence, nodding gently. "But, of course, if you decide otherwise... I will support you." In some selfish way, Leera doesn't want Nephthys to abort her litter, but at the same time she knows it's not her decision to make. speech action

The witch felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in her abdomen. Tension grew in her face and limbs, her mind replaying the last moments of her Mother. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow. In these moments before her personal hurricane, she understood Ashmedai, the alcoholic...one would do anything to stop the primal surge to flee. The panic starts out as thin cellophane, something her claws can pierce breathing holes in. In another minute the panic was a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passes her pretty maw and snout. Yet the panic attack did not become absolute, it did not shut her body down as fast as punching a biochemical reset button though the witch did felt like she was having a heart attack in the moment. And that all thanks to this fine specimen of a woman that leaned her bodice into her, grounding her and at the same time managed to make the witch feel safe. I need to get them out. I cannot have them. her words where merely above a whisper, softness of a cloud; violet gems rose towards the ashen queen, locking their gaze together for what felt like eternity. Not long ago I scented something, someone, many. she sighed, shifting her position fore her busy tail to engulf them both, tip falling on her swelled abdomen. A pack. Could not be far from here by the strenght of the scent. Maybe they have a healer that can help. she mouthed the words with trembling, ebon lips, unaware if they came out as audible. When her words failed her, when she saw so much more than can ever be explained, that sense of compassion for the ashen queen hit her in a nanosecond. That's when her emotional intelligence, maybe for the fourth time in her life, leaped far beyond that which speech can ever accomplish. That's when she felt safe with another yet she decided right that instant that this was not Leera journey, she needed to go and search for what she scented alone. Leera has done enough, proved more than enough and as the witch calmed down even further in her warm embrace she could not help the thought of failing in front of the woman in the back of her mind. The score was now 1-0 in favor of Leera, yet she did not minded at all. You had any or are you... the witch eyebrow arched in question as the word barren never left her lips. Speech

Leera keeps herself there for as long as she can, braced against Nephthys, pressing into her to let her know that she is here and that she is listening. Her concerns and decisions, whether she agrees with them are not, are valid and she wants her to know this. It's difficult to watch a creature like Nephthys break... she can almost hear the sound of her cathedral walls collapsing, revealing pieces Leera hadn't even known existed within the woman. Forehead pressed gently into Nephthys' heaving side, Leera knows she has pieces hidden within her as well. Corners of her soul that rarely, if ever, touch the light of day. Remembering them, she closes her eyes and murmurs into her first friend's coat, feeling rather maternal. "Shh..." They might be competitive, drenched in the fiery desire to be better than the other, but this is something Leera will never speak about. For Nephthys' sake. Unless brough up by the goddess herself, not a breath will be spoken about this wintry day in the falls, where tears have been shed and words have been said. Leera nods when the bronzed queen speaks of a pack, pulling away only to answer. "I scented it, too. Perhaps there is a healer." She'd rather Nephthys see someone skilled in medicine before she decides the future of her impending litter. Nephthys' next question makes her freeze. A glaze crosses over her small, fuschia eyes and she folds her ears against her head before sighing gently. "Three litters," she answers after a moment, looking away from Nephthys to conceal the shadow that crosses her angular face. "All children are dead, now. Either murdered by their fathers or men wo wished to be their fathers. It's always the men, Nephthys. They cannot control the fire within their souls like we can." speech action

The temptress swallowed audibly, turning to take in the expression on the ashen queen face. Her violet gaze was steady, eyes wide like an innocent child, as she released a short sharp breath. Three litters. Three times Leera has gone through this, three times she had handle this and yet she melted down right there on the spot. Leera... she purred softly, her chest vibrating in order to offer some comfort for the woman as she pushed her muzzlr into her, physically being there. It is always the men. she repeated in her thick arabic accent, heavy and low in the pit of her throat. See, the problem is that God gives men a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time. she shook her crown gracefully; her gaze, gold and orange specks floating on sea of violet, fiery, burning holes within the ashen queen soul as she locked their gaze together in a frenzy. I shall not offer you my apologies because I know you do not wish for them. Everything you say is a mask, but each thing gives a clue to the real you. You just cut it out and let me in, you know, you just let me into that fragile head of yours. a ghost of a smile spread upon the egyptian siren acutely beautiful visage, tugging at the corners of her full, ebon lips. And for that I thank you. Speech

Of course, Nephthys agrees. She understands. Even since their start, their cat-and-mouse chase to outpreform the other, there's always been some sort of unspoken kinship between the two wolves. Leera feels this connection now, more than ever, this quiet and sisterly bond. She says nothing in response to her companion, only closes her eyes gently and bows her head. It's a trying time for Nephthys, she knows, so perhaps she'd just like to rest a bit. They've talked enough. They've laid out their souls for the other to see. "It'll do you good to get some rest, flower," she murmurs after a short while, already beginning to lull off to sleep herself. She curls closer to Nephthys, sets her chin on her paws, and lets the world slip away for a while, surrounded by a numbing dreamscape. -exit- speech action

The temptress wanted nothing more than to lay down and be enveloped by the warmth of silence. Whether she wanted to rest permanently or not, she did not know. She never would have though silence would be considered warm but there she was laying next to her kind companion prepared to be swept away by the hope that her sleep would be filled by light. The temptress offered a small, almost insignificant nod towards the ashen queen before they both got comfortable, pressing into each other for warmth and comfort. In these past few hours they have become closer, learnt more about one another and opened their souless shells, sharing informations that maybe nobody else knew. They were rivals in their prime, predators and murderous heathen that cheat and manipulate; using others as pawns on their chess board. The world was but a game, another leader to be climber but yet they were more; they became more. Friendship, sisterhood, give it a name if you must, there was something more than it meets the eye. -exit via sleep- Speech