It was a pleasant day, one that led the demonic queen to leave her den for a short period of time and stretch her legs away from the pack. There were several frustrations that she had to escape from, the major one being that she was supposed to garner the respect out of a mortal. Mortals should be quaking in fear of her, Dea should be the one bowed to, the one whose respect had to be earned. It was what she had been groomed for. She was the daughter of Lucifer, king of demons, and of Vianni, queen of cannibals. Dea would have been the heir to a kingdom that would have made the mortals tremble to hear its name. Anger and frustration mounted as she recalled her behavior before joining Ashen, weakness had invaded her. A deep growl bubbled in her chest as her anger twisted into a cold rage.

What reward would there be in this venture? What was it the dark god she shared with Archon wanted? Why was she allowing herself to be led around by the nose while watching her dreams slowly crumble around her? There was deep, abyssal darkness growing within the Demon Queen, one that encouraged her rage. The scar over her left eye throbbed as she grew angrier. Her heart slammed against her chest as she recalled the first time she and Archon met, and he taught her about his god. Remembering when she defended Archon against the bitch from Abaven with the pink and green eyes. Warmth flooded her when she thought of how tenderly he had cleaned her wounds at the shrine. Heat enveloped her when she remembered returning to Archon after being lost, and she made her promise to him. Now, she had been roped into residing in a mortal pack. This had not been the path that the Fallen God wanted for his demon queen, nor the path Archon was meant to follow, and the realization struck her like a blow to the gut.

Archon could figure it out for himself, she would show him. At that moment, Dea resolved to fix herself. She had precious little time, and godlings to elevate. While she had a bit of time, Dea howled out for a sparring partner. Anyone would do, she just needed to work off this anger and frustration before returning home to three demanding newborns who held her heart, and a pack that had earned nothing but her ire.

*~~~* "Talking." *~~~* Thinking. *~~~*

Célestin was eager to keep up with his training, it helped to keep his mind off other things... So when a an open call for an opponent rang out near the pack he eagerly answered it, taking the short trip out west and he idly wondered if he'd pass his old home, maybe he ought to stop by to visit Naeva... But no the summon hadn't come from the desert so maybe his visit would have to wait. Instead he found himself on a prairie, the land flat enough to allow for a decent fight, whoever it was they at least had some good amount of sense to them. Though he supposed he'd need to learn how to fight on uneven earth as well, he'd never know when he'd need to be asked to fight for the pack he'd pledged himself to. As the man wandered he spotted a woman, her scent drifting to him and he looked her over, noting a strong sweet milk smell to her. This woman had either given birth only recently or was around someone who had. He quirked a brow, curiosity tugging at him. "Was it you who called looking for a fight?" He asked, deep baritone rumbling with good humor. "If so, I'd be happy to oblige." This time he didn't consider the blue rose tucked behind his ears, knowing he could just as easily fight with it still woven in his fur. Walk, "Talk", Think