Frigid air pumped in and out of Brynhildr's lungs in ragged bursts. Her heavy breathing was tinged with little bits of laughter, and she was hot despite the chill of the moonlit night. The sky was marred by only the faintest wisps of cloud cover, displaying a full moon in all it's potent glory. Bryn tilted her head upwards, marveling at the host of stars that hovered up above her, but as her paw came down hard upon a upward jut of ice she cursed and returned her attention to the task at hand. The wiry woman spent one last burst of speed before locking up her legs, braking with such fervor that her hindquarters curled up under the rest of her body. She lurched her shoulders and spun out her weight, skidding across the frozen surface and watching with dizzy abandon as the ice beneath her lit up like an aurora. When her scrabbling claws were able to find traction the dark woman righted herself and stared eagerly back at the trail she had made. A faint greenish blue illuminated the wispy tendrils of snow that drifted over her trail. She allowed a jovial laugh to break an otherwise silent night, and began to sidestep at a trot, watching as color would bloom wherever she set foot. She had no idea what hand of creation could have caused a thing like this but she was hardly complaining. Never mind the lack of food and occasional deadly crevasse, this was the most fun she'd had in quite some time. "TALK" THINK "YOU"

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? the phantom queen?s collection only expands, its latest edition clutched betwixt decadent jaws tainted a deathly shade of crimson -- haunting and ultimately gruesome. yet the tyrant sees no rhyme or reason in obscuring her gored trophy, the detached cerulean eye of her kin?s set on display to her bystanders, cradled delicately between frayed lips bewitched into a smirk so arrogant and criminal. the trenches carved into her precious neck still weep tears of sanguine, and yet, despite her obvious hindrances, the deity remains unperturbed and immaculately poised, her tail coiled pompously above her rump and her mismatched gaze a disdainful glower as her pupils haphazardly ravage her surroundings. the elysius is on to her next mission, after all -- her next felony, her next victim, whomever that { unfortunate } soul may be. the faintest trace of a scowl encompasses the pallid deity?s stained countenance as she infiltrates the former domain of her companion?s, velveteen nostrils flaring minutely in an attempt to pinpoint any trace of the armada queen?s aroma with little success. a sigh threatens to bypass clenched jaws, yet she surpasses it as an unfamiliar cackle penetrates the silent atmosphere, ensnaring her attention immediately. robust appendages propel the phantom in the direction from whence the chortle emanates from, her pawsteps purposely unobtrusive in an attempt to conceal her presence from whosoever loiters nearby. and as the lithe physique of the stranger develops into view, so the elysius halts in her stride, fervent pupils observing the woman with mild intrigue as she bounds along the frozen surface of the lake, leaving a luminous trail in her wake. wry amusement warps the paladin?s porcelain features as she discards her sibling?s eye at her paws, reclining upon her rump as she examines the nimble wraith in silence, judgment wrought within her gleaming gaze. ?easily amused, are we?? the deity croons, unveiling her looming presence to the childlike woman as a singular brow quirks inquisitively upon her marred forehead. table by lu, avatar by chelsea.

The voice was an intrusion, but Bryn would take it in stride. She turned her head languidly, as if unsurprised by the appearance of another. Her coat was pale, her eyes intriguing, vivid colors visible despite the hour. The chill would shift, wisking her scent towards the darker femme, and Brynhildr would note the trace of blood. Injured, hmm? She couldn't help but wonder what the wraith had been up to. She would allow an easy smile onto her lips, head tilting, smirk growing. "I've certainly been called worse," she quipped, light and airy. She opened her dark maw, meaning to speak again, but a gust of wind would sweep in upon the pair. It was bitterly cold, a portent of the autumn near at hand, and Brynhildr could not help but turn her head into the torrent. It's severity was bracing. As it died down the woman would be left with a poised expression, as if the wind had been a lover's heated kiss. She let loose a sigh before turning on her company once more. "It a good night to let loose," she would allow. "Crisp and clear, with a bit of mischief on the air." In truth, she was having trouble gaining the woman's measure. There was an unease in the air, and had Bryn noticed the mangled optic at the woman's base she might have thought twice about engaging in the conversation any further, but as it stood she saw only a stranger with a few stories to tell. Her brows would remain lifted, curious and at ease, in face of the mystery incarnate. "TALK" "YOU" THINK