Exposed “Artio” Lebraid There’d been a cimmerian obscurity for quite some time, a devilry, a condoling dread braising through every vein, every fibre of this odious, bedraggled graveyard’s being. Where, exactly? It was a truncated question that replayed over and over, like frazzling inconsistencies. Soon, mayhap, this nightmare will simply end; but then, as if slumber no longer fought to tyrant the woman’s brain, an existential awakening slowly devised those dreams into a nonsensical, yet ocular reality. A blaze of blurriness sieved past as she blinked awake, groggy and fitful of how to feel –– emotions, of course, were hardly a conception. Lebraid breathed, heavily, a ghastly distortion oiling the back of her throat into some wet, soporose rumble, bleakly guttural to the core. Howbeit, her stony, monochromous gaze slaved over the landscape, trying to make sense of it as everything mauled together. What paled the once ever-blue ether, perchance? Was it blood? A bonfire? A ring of celebratory purges, pogrom’s, bodies of the decrepit and unworthy? It seemed all too covetous -- a droll, vibrant vermilion radiated above, sultry chills of a presage, sinistral air crowning the cacodemon’s fur -- it truly was divine. There’s nothing more feting than death, right? She’d wreath a grisly exhale, expressions completely void and doughty, all while attempting to gain those bags of bearings, metaphorically speaking. Staring, the wizened and sun-bleached stones had fabricated far into the welkin at heights quite unfathomable, whet like harpoons of olden wars. She hadn’t yet noticed the oddities of those anomalous, foreign carvings; everything seemed so eldritch, and Lebraid relished in it for a while longer, contrary to the baleful whistles and malnourished shrills. A chasmic, hellish grunt thrummed from the depths of the wolf’s belly, gyrating sleeves of svelte, gloopy drool contouring over ebony lips, disturbingly unkempt. Did she care, though? No, absolutely not –– standing from the earth, an aura of capricious dread practically bled from this walking graveyard’s demeanour. Oh, to what will this owe the pleasure? Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3

Calliope was not exactly curious about the phenomenon that surrounded her home, but she could not deny that something drew her there. It was hard to miss that her family had also ventured into the newly sprouted territory with its churned dirt and towering spires. Whatever had caused the tremors and rising metal figures, the wolves of Boreas and Auster were keen on figuring it out. Frankly, Calliope only cared to figure out why if it benefitted her. While the last odd encounter had left her throat and leg scarred, it had been a fun adventure nonetheless. Perhaps, this time would be the same?

Lazily moving her large paws across the damp ground, she wound between the spires, ensuring to rub her coat along their cool surfaces whenever she got the chance. Basically, her way of saying "hey, I'm here!" without literally marking them. She was about to stop to take a gander at one that appeared to show more of those horrified faces when an unfamiliar wolf caught her attention. Pastel gaze swiveled quickly to the stranger, assessing at first before her demure appearance swiftly shifted into that of a lethal predator.

Prowling closer, she didn't hide her approach. Piercing eyes stayed firm on the wolf as she continued to hold her aggressive posture. Ears up, shoulders firm, tail swept over her back; there was nothing shy about Calliope Fallen. A clearing of her throat to grab the other's attention, she leans closer to a spire to lean her hip against it. Enjoying the stark temperature difference as it presses into her skin, she lifts a smirk onto her pale lips. "Enjoying the scenery?" She purrs, lashes batting flirtatiously at the woman.

"Speech"

Exposed “Artio” Lebraid As if cinnabar, salmon and coral breaths bedevilled what clouds lay above, its binds of leaden, feverish underglows bred an ecstasy like no other; it burned and balled in the pits of the graveyard’s stomach, almost acerbic in taste as she inhaled deeply. It correlated a grimace, belied and grisly. Was this a rendition of purgatory, perhaps, or an abstract countenance of what helhiem could be? Be it may, something felt execrably real about this felicitously barren, pinnacled landscape. Eyes of an undead, monochromous nebula slaughtered against every cut and chink, vaguely noticing olden tales carved at the plinth of a spire — they seemed, well, weathered — albeit the foreign suggestions that slaved from them seemingly promised alarum. It was quite a story, that’s for sure. However, temptuous gazes soon fell upon that of another; a tintless, palish canid, ordained by maya-blue, orchid and heliotrope tones. In antecedent times, the gods plighted her with goliath forms, yet here, she was but a mere corporal, an ordinary wolf. Did it matter, though? Their approach constituted bellicosity, predation, a profile in which Lebraid was quick to replicate, despite their polarity in size. She was volatile at best, wetted canines parting as drivel spooled over soot-black lips, hackles brutishly aflare like fuel vermined wildfires. She’d made her odium quite clear, “That depends--” Low, grungy words spat in response, “-- Tell me where I am.” It wasn’t so much an insistence as it was a necessity, yet expressions did not dither, did not impugn, showing little to no patency of what she may do. Denuded, emotionless, druid. Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3

It would not matter if the other was a monstrosity in size or dainty as a pixie, Calliope would still face them with the same disinterestedly flirtatious look. As if nothing around matter except for what happened at the end of the night. There was a reason her mother called her Callous instead of Calliope at times. Boredom stretches across her expression, even a tiny yawn of widening lips, as the suspicious wolf stares her down.

Glancing around as if the suddenly appearing spires didn't bother her, she shrugs in response. "Couldn't tell you even if I want to," Calliope replies casually, her gaze flitting back to the wolf with a nonchalant laziness. "Somewhere near Glowshroom Caverns and Buffalo Knolls, but even then, it's not...concrete," a brow of hers raises slightly, curious to see how the other perceived this information. At least she was being honest.

"Speech"

Exposed “Artio” Lebraid Lebraid did not feel afeared nor imperilled, but rather exhilarated -- it was near paradoxical to decipher -- hauteur distorted whatever feelings dare parlay, mantled by a helheim of neurotic clouds. As if she wasn’t already unpredictable enough being in an outlandish, foreign world. Emotions were, well, bowed, so you’d say. She’d listen, those stony, tintless eyes pulling taut at the pallid canine’s imputation of the earth’s unwonted, carmine texture, unable to disagree. Was this all there to be? Still, she didn’t appreciate their timbre, their being here, however intelligence will simply not bare on its own, “And where is all of this, exactly?” Words befell souse lips like an oxidised sword, muscles cinching with every breath, every fibre of this graveyard’s bedraggled being. It was reference to the aforementioned domain’s, of course, so perhaps this temporal was much like the last; before, she was a monarch, a queen feared by many, yet here, it’s as if the timelines revivified. Retention remained claggy, albeit. Raw, ruinous rumbles keeled from the depths of the woman’s throat, mutilated and loathly –– there's no telling what she may do, and that in itself was the most sinistrorsal roulette of all. Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3

The next question to reach her ears has her eyes narrowing slightly. How curious it would be if this wolf's first appearance were to be now. Calliope cants her head at the thought. The more she looks at the stranger, the more she realizes that perhaps it is true. This wolf truly didn't know where she was. Did she know where she came from? It wasn't like her to be so invested into the life and tribulations of strangers, but the dawn of a red sky was potentially putting her into a different mood. Were they even alive anymore?

"Boreas is the name of this continent. I do not know what lies beyond as this place is big enough." Calliope is honest as honest comes, but only when it served its purpose. For now, there was no point in lying. What if this one knew more about the spires and the sky, but wasn't letting on? That part of her tickled the back of her mind. If wolves were appearing from nowhere on the dawn of this peculiar landscape change, they surely had to be a side effect.

"Where is it that you come from?" She asks carefully, her eyes never leaving the strange woman.

"Speech"

Exposed “Artio” Lebraid Boreas, a bizarre and alien name, one she had not heard of before. If this as expansive as they say, then what does lie outwith? Albeit, this world was not avernus nor purgatory, a rather forlorn turn of events; the curation of claret skies breathed a baleful blush, ears therein flicking at the confit-coloured canine. Expressions did not buckle, but rather oppress, “Not here.” Lebraid’s vocals dared to notch the air, psychologically estranged in ways she could not understand. Tundora, siam and greys alike jostled like infernos atop the graveyard’s jacket -- memories were a haze, cudgelled by the god’s upon renascence -- or, so she thought. “I do not like different,” It was an austere admittance, poisoned by a ghoulish grouse in the pit of her stomach as it mangled into a mephitic sneer. How dare they take what was rightfully hers, and without so much as concurrence? Where, pray tell, had her only son gone? These were the questions that lie without answers, and it roused an unsettling ire; silence condemned, staring, waiting. Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3

Sometimes, others held their cards a little too close to their chests. Calliope feels this way about the wolf standing before her. That expression on the woman’s face is just a bit too off. As if she’s lost or confused. Was it a bout of amnesia? She thinks for a moment, contemplating her next move. Was it better to keep probing or should she try to harass the stranger into answering? Mm, she didn’t particularly want to get bloodied in that moment.

A resigned sigh whistles between her lips, nearly matching the high-pitched dissonance of the wailing that swirled around them. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk, then at least help me figure this shit out,” Calliope jerked her muzzle toward the closest spire where the horrified carving seemed to almost stare at them. “These things weren’t here the other day. And if you weren’t either, do you have a paw in their arrival?” Her question is sharp, judgmental, weary as she stalks away from the woman toward the spire.

Lifting a wide paw, Calliope strokes her pink pads down the rough metal surface, using her dull nails to scratch along its etchings. “It seems these carvings are almost as terrified as you,” she hisses, teeth clamped together and shining beneath raised sneering lips.

Exposed “Artio” Lebraid Lebraid wasn’t a wolf you should poke, prod, or even play roulette with, because the denouement’s were unpredictable at best, and inexorable at worst. Who, pray tell, did they think they were talking to? Not a dunce, that’s for sure; rather, they were the halfwit for hawking demands, a ruinous, icy snarl richotting like a hellion from the underworld. Torn, gutsy, it bore no benevolence. The shrill dissonance resounded off every crease and crook, stagnant spires brewing overhead, daring to swallow them whole if it so had the chance -- and then, an insinuation -- bled by moronic judgement, or so she thought, it ruled her to be the cause of all this, well, militant purgatory. No, that simply will not do. They fucking dare? Eldritch, aggravated rumbles brandished past those sooty lips, spit contriving atone each tooth like a befouled, rabid varmint, boneyard jacket tousling thickly to imply a means of malignancy, disdain. It slathered her very chin, beading dirt and knotting follicles. Lebraid did not take lightly to those that spoke paltry lies; in the past, those who did wrong were abashed, mutilated, ceased to exist, be it bloodborn or not. A feral, dauntless growl thrummed to attest their nonsensical accusations —— terrified, was it? My, they couldn’t be more wrong. “If that’s what you think,” Words began, droning in a rather eerie, metallic-type tone, “Then you’re sorely mistaken.” She’d almost solicit, perchance entice them, to say one more imbecilic imputation. Albeit, despite the wreathing temptations that continued to lumber far below, stifled by an imprisonment of self-restraining irons, they harnessed a few rifts, and this may easily fabricate more. All the while, breaths paved heavy as she tried to pervade the doll’s very soul with those moonless, deadpan orbs. Try me, bitch. Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3