Shadows beautifully hid him, and they would have been perfect, yet they were not fire; not fire that could caress his body and promise him safety from the races forever. They were not the fires that had locked his body into an embrace that he had thought was going to be very eternal, and he was glad, for while those embers were an incarnation of elegance they were not something he could tame and they were not something that he could stop. They clung to him an ravaged his skin and his body showed the ramifications. Had it not been for the man that saved him he would be dead and with his death would be gone the hope for anyone in the forsake world. Why, though, did the other risk his face and his fate for a man that was unknown? Questions were still left to be answered and syrinx would make it a goal to one day know these answers specifically. ?
?
? He dragged himself across the landscape with something resembling hatred, but the evidence that it was no longer for the world but or him was clear. He was now the god of misplaced aggression, and he only wished to reclaim his title of emperor. To be the undefeated patriarch he had been before he left, after he had beat isardis at his own game. He remembered making the s ow kin finally taste failure. It had been so beautiful. He had preformed so flawlessly, and while he would admit that his victory was by a fraction, it was victory and he would take to it. Reminiscing was fun in the most extreme ways. He could recall a lot--and above all he wondered how his daughters had adjusted. He had left them to their own devices and he certainly had to admit some regret, but without him it would mean they had to develop and it forced them to be independent. Though, without a doubt, undoubtably, he would find them and shower them in his ardor. He loved them. They were of his blood and in the most pure
Sense. ?

? ?Syrinx slowed his incredible pace and let his stride fall still as he stood still as braced the incoming winds. He'd find those that mattered to him soon. For now, his heart was a rock, tonight he would spend the time learning about how he reacted again, because finding himself was the most important endeavor there was. Syrinx had a lot to live with, and he had a lot to change, though, the monster that he was had no intentions of changing. Who he was had been flawlessly pieced together, and as another night was drawing to its midpoint a dark smirk encumbered his rugged features and he considered what was to come before the -king- pressed on.?

She was a slave to the night, restlessly haunting lands she had once believed her family to possess with their immense vigor and great fortitude. Yet those were tales of old, passed along from a conniving mother?s silver tongue in the hopes that her children would take her words for worth and one day construct their own dominions with golden thrones to boot. They were dreams?farfetched, even?that the porcelain prodigy had taken pause in obtaining, yet dreams nonetheless that Artemis had not quite forgotten. Her mother?s dreams had become her own ambitions?desires that lurked in the back of her skull, sluggishly prodding their way into prominence with each day that passed by. She had come so close to seizing these desires months prior, when she had overestimated her own capabilities, but never again. No; once the opportunity presented itself to her again, she would not shy away from the supremacy offered, but clutch it between her covetous paws and refute any who wished to pry it from her relentless grasp. Shadows danced across the barren wasteland as the paladin stalked off into the unknown, immediately ensnaring her attention and diverting her focus from internal struggles to external awareness. His was the only figure in sight, illuminated dully by the silver moonlight cast upon his behemoth physique, seemingly oblivious to her ominous presence that loomed perpendicular to his own as they both journeyed onward, apparently without a particular destination in mind. Immediately intrigued by this abrupt encounter, the banshee halted in her lackadaisical stride as the goliath took pause in his own, allowing for the chilling winds to comb through her pallid coat as she silently examined her newest companion. Familiarity struck the wench as her mismatched gaze lingered upon the state of his marred and smirking countenance, recognizing him to be the red king that had reigned over the northern pack that had opposed the ice king she had once pledged allegiance to. He was of Valhallan ties?this, she knew, having witnessed his fight against Isardis during times of war?and briefly, the wraith contemplated over whether or not her presence was unwelcomed here. After all, it had been at her paws that Valhalla had crumbled (however briefly), so it was not so farfetched to believe him to be bitter over the loss. However, the prodigy?s total lack of fear towards the unknown forced her to press onward as she made her daring approach towards him, poised immaculately as he. ?Have all the great kings fallen?? she inquired slowly, demanding his attention with the unbridled amusement lacing her typically monotonous vocals. It was a question she did not expect an answer to, but one that she hoped would force him to halt in his saunter. Once she was within a comfortable proximity to the russet fiend, she, too, paused, cocking her skull slightly to the side with mock-curiosity befitting of a whelp as a wry grin unfolded across the premises of her facial features, contorting her countenance darkly. ?And how dull it is to return to the kings and queens of new and see how they interact peacefully.? At this, she frowned, admitting to the disappointment that wracked her. She was a being who thrived upon chaos; the world was far too bland when all was well.

OOC: [ ]



A silver woman; silken and dancing beneath the moonlight. Arguably her coloration added for a much more glamorous effect under the pallor of the moon, and her already abstract eyes (that were hinted with mischief) seemed to glow. A smirk would rise to his lips. Pretty. And yet, when Syrinx found a thing to be pretty it was not for her physicality or for anything usually observable. She was small. A usual sign of ignorance, but there was fire in her eyes--god, she looked familiar. Who are you? the question danced across his mind as he stared a the woman with a path similar to his own. When she spoke he very decidedly happened to enjoy her. Not because he found it a pampering to his ego, but because she seemed to miss the chaos that used to be prominent here. They could have quite the interesting discussion, no? ??

The beast turned his massive skull in her direction and a sly smirk was observable on his broken face, his burned features, and he laughed, "It would seem so. I don't think I'm the only one here off their perch, however," no one who had all they were seeking after would seem do scorned. No one who ha what they needed would be so bold to say something. Was she looking for him to argue with her? Syrinx knew that Chrysanthe had fallen from the throne, and in his mind she had been the only truly string leader. Though, syrinx would award the reapings to isardis. The male had made himself a victor (for the most part) and he was ruling an empire where most feared or respected him. In some cases it was both. Syrinx, however, noted that Isardis had a weakness that was too easily targeted. His pride. He did not know defeat and if he lost things that he felt were his own it was his obsession with his supposed imperfection that would be his downfall. Syrinx admired the thought of stealing the white devil's kingdom. It would cause him a grief something terrible. He had been ruling for quite some time, no? ??
? Syrinx rolled his shoulders and sank back in his rear. The pleasant ?features that overtook him were odd and not entirely feasible for the paladin, but he had discovered something rare-- a mind that was a bit like his. Even more rare (to him) was the fact that he could look at someone who had usurped his own family and find himself adequately fond. She had done nothing he would not do. In terms of tearing apart a family to build his own kingdom, and perhaps seeking to make her an ally would be better than making her his enemy. Perhaps, she could be persuaded to leave the adravendi alone at the cost of domination. Perhaps trading her his ideas and seeking deeper into her mind would allow him an idea of what he could turn a future into, "and what would you change about this world? You so impressively find a lack of pleasure here. How would you make it pleasing to your eyes?" now it was he who were the more curious.


"Speech!".

The former tyrant held little room for fear, having been raised to shroud the majority of emotions in a cloud of apathy, so while any typical canine might have cowered whilst sharing the company of a behemoth such as the titan poised before her, the prodigy would neither frown in disgust nor allow the faintest twitch of muscle beneath her pallid fur as the scarlet fiend turned to regard her presence. Her mismatched gaze would devour his marred features greedily, lingering upon the raw flesh strung taut about his countenance that exposed the bleached bone of his mandible in certain areas; and although his visage was a harsh sight upon the eyes, the phantom would find herself struck silent in admiration. Scars--no matter how detrimental to the beauty of their wearers--were embellishments that the babe was quite fond of, for, in her eyes, they served as physical proof of another?s feats in combat and were worthy of honoring. Insecurity crept its way into the confines of her diseased mind as she pondered the state of her own exterior, knowing all too well that her physique adorned far fewer scars than the red king?s own--would she be underestimated because of it? The titan before her had defeated Isardis--would he see the ice king?s former pawn as something unworthy and inferior? If he did, it would not be due to her infallible composure and poise, nor for the amused smirk laden upon her facial features. A brief chortle would erupt from the goliath?s jaws, and Artemis would find herself surprised that he refrained from begrudging her for usurping the russet-kissed Valhallan woman--or so it appeared upon the surface, anyway. However bemused she was with his seemingly-placid demeanor despite her wrongs against his kin, her practiced facade would not falter--not even as he reclined to his haunches and offered her his attention. She would not mirror his seating position, but would, instead, allow herself to grow slightly more comfortable in the presence of the brute, tail unfurling to brush lightly against her knees as she succumbed to the pleasant feeling generated by sharing the ex-king?s company. Subtly, he would draw attention to Isardis and how his grip upon the Glaciem throne seemed to have loosened over time, and Artemis would merely grunt in response, uncertain of her feelings on the matter. She had once sworn fealty on Isardis? behalf, but found herself wavering from his loyalties as her ambitions grew along with her urge for independence; she supposed it was high time to find her own path rather than that of which another wished for her to take. Although Isardis had been at her side during multiple events, times changed--as did loyalties--as did feelings. His inquiry would bring a simper to her lips, and although immediately she knew of her answer, she would bring pause to the situation, cocking her skull to the left in a contemplative manner. ?Although I do find myself missing the old conflicts, I would not want the same conflicts,? she began, pausing again to emphasize her point. It was time for a new era--she did not wish to travel back in time to see Valhalla and Glaciem tear one another apart for the sake of one woman; no, she craved something much more dramatic. ?A world that would appeal to me is a world where its leaders do not hide behind alliances, but rather, take risks in order to move ahead--those unafraid to take the path less traveled by.? It seemed as if all the current packs were quick to unite to maintain the peace--but what was the point in peace if it left life predictable and dull? ?Perhaps I am mad,? she stated, the smirk elongating across her porcelain countenance as her mismatched gaze locked with the red titan?s cyan, ?but I would rather watch the world burn.? At this, the babe sank back to her haunches slowly, curious as to how he would handle the information she had so confidently just relayed to him. ?And if I must be the one to carry the torch that sets it ablaze, so be it.?

OOC: [ ]



To be honest, the Titan thought himself to be particularly pretty. He had a plethora of scars and lacerations and his most bold markings weren't even from battle, but self-affliction or accidents. Those accidents had prompted him to be a glorious warlord. Syrinx was proud of who he was, regardless of anyone else's qualms. The Arkhos lowered his head in alignment with his shoulders and studied the Jezebel further. She wasn't remarkably torn or feasted on. Though, there was that look in her eyes. There was that incessant need to prove herself to herself. Fuck the world. That was what he found most impressive. Syrinx, could not disregard the whole world. He had his family and they needed their domain. He wanted to give the world solely to them.

? "it never is fun to relive the same thing; is it?" syrinx knew that the same chaos was something that he would know the outcome of. Changing the face of Alacritis was imperative. In Syrinx's mind isardis had become the face of Alacritis. It was no longer an obsession with proving his family's worth over isardis's own. Now, it was simply about Syrinx shaking the foundations of what was in place. If the younger woman was at all aware of chaos she would understand that it was the most enticing direction to take. ?

?He listened to her explain her ideal world and a smirk presented itself across his lips, "I have every reason in the world to rip your limbs from your body and smile while you scream in agony for me. A slow-intimate death; mind you. You tore the one goal I had from me and it was keeping my
Family safe and together," how dare she change his goals as his ideals. Evil. Still, he had more beyond such a drab goal now (the focus was the same) "but I won't because you're valuable. You changed things in my head. You causes chaos in me. I have a need to protect only my family. That was the task my father left to me. You may or may not understand familial loyalty, but watch me and you'll understand the depths it runs in even the most envisioned minds," syrinx had never been less than bold--and yet today was a new extreme. "you aren't mad. You're an enthusiast for chaos,"?

He felt as though he were gracious for bringing such a thing to light. The Arkhos was a fiend and a ruffian to everyone, but he ?could find that in his temperament there was likeableness. Though, he did find the grains of truth in the fact that if someone found appeal in the red man--they likely had some ounce of dark inhibition.?




"Speech!".

It was quite amusing to the prodigy--that she should grace the red titan with pleasant company when the ice king had tweaked the inner workings of her mind so that she was programmed to detest any and all creatures that had formed an union with the old Valhalla. Yet, there she was poised--a glorified knight, uncharacteristically enraptured by a being she was once determined to mercilessly drive tooth and nail through as she delved into the shallows of his mind and allowed him to do the same to her own. Their similarities were quite obvious and intriguing all the same, yet still the babe would harbor no remorse for the actions she had taken against his kin; life was cruel and only those selfish enough to take what they desired while supporting an empty conscience would thrive. She could not concern herself with the well-being of complete strangers, nor would she ever. Guilt was an aspect lost upon the phantom as was pity--it was hardly her problem if others were too weak to support themselves, and she would continue to pay their misfortunes little heed. The heart within her breast beat only to provide life for herself, after all, and for her alone. It was not her responsibility to attend to the needs and desires of any other creature (aside from her own kin, perhaps), and thus it would remain. His sinister fantasies would not be met with anger nor would they be met with caution; his intentions (although unclear for the most part) did not appear violent, so the prodigy would not allow him the satisfaction of portraying intimidation. Instead, the smirk laden upon her porcelain countenance would only elongate as he impregnated her thoughts with the image of blood and decay--her own blood, her own demise. The self-confidence infested within the brute was strong--he seemed certain that he could easily overpower her with force, and although the babe might have scoffed in the face of any other being that exuded as much arrogance as he, she would spare him the same treatment for she did not know whether or not to believe him. He had proved himself a worthy opponent by defeating Isardis himself, but Artemis did not know the extent of Isardis? strength, having never opposed him. Perhaps it was not such an impressive feat as she figured--she would not know unless she tried. As he continued, the prodigy would be proved correct in her assumptions--he would not harm her; not today. His words stroked her ego and discomforted her all the same; was he questioning her loyalty to her own family? "Family loyalty?? she interjected immediately as the male concluded his speech, vocals more curt than they had previously been. She almost felt insulted that one would question the strength of the bond she held towards those of her own blood, but her visage would never falter from its amused state. "Do you truly believe I thieved your kin?s crown for Isardis? sake, let alone my own?? It was true that the ice king had only commanded her to retrieve his lost children; stealing the russet-kissed wench?s crown was her idea. "Perhaps it was partially selfish desire, I?ll admit--a need to rise above the masses--but I did it for them as much as myself, if not more.? Her family had always been prioritized--it was one lesson that her mother had engraved into the folds of her mind and one that Artemis would remember for as long as she lived. Her kin meant everything to her; the fact that Ares was of her own blood had stopped her from harming him even through his traitorous actions against their family. "Blood runs thick, yes--but how thick does it run? Would you destroy the face of this earth to create a better world for your family?? The ball was in his court now, and she was all the more curious to learn the extent of his loyalty towards his family.

 
?This time the anger was not shown outwardly. This time it was purely and justifiably internal. Though, there was a certain unrest to it; normally?
he was bothered and continually cautious about how he displayed things. However, in her presence remembering to contain his anger was easy,?
and it was simply because he enjoyed her. He was more angered with himself for exactly that problem. Chrysanthe and Epiphron would not?
approve of his associations with she, and yet he found himself not caring. She would be no danger to them if he were in the picture. Not if he had a?
say in it. His lips tightened into a dark smirk and he watched her carefully. She was, clearly, more of the manipulative type. He was merely a pain.?
Regardless of either of their uncolloquial means of accomplishing things it was in their facelessness to society that they could regard each other (or?
at least he regards her) for their absurd means of taking to their winnings. She to her kingdom which she had abandoned; and he to his which he?
had done the same with. They were both oddities. Giving up their fortunes when they had only just received them. They were?
disappointing--naturally, but it was all in good fun. They would grow to change those things. With both of them it was their abominable?
youth. Though, it could be argued he was years her senior. It could also be argued that a woman matures faster. ?
?
??I care not for reason, ma bell?. You did it. Yet, as aforementioned I do not loathe you; but loathe your actions,? Her family was of no?
care to him. He had no standing in her line and so it was easy for him to shrug them off and care little of their destruction to befall them. In her?
eyes it were the same. The Adravendi were nothing to her and so she cared little for the destruction that should befall them. Syrinx could not hate?
her for him doing the same. Hypocrisy was not tolerable, ?Your white king is a proud man. I do not find fault in you for following such?
beauty. Is it not whispered that the anti-christ himself would be worshipped solely for his immaculate beauty?? And such was true. A demon?
was beautiful in every right. However, his point was viable enough to be changed and be told exactly, ?Yet I still tore him down that day. His?
beauty is compelling, but the will of the beast is far greater,? Syrinx could argue with her for ages on why they did the things they did, but as?
beings they were compelled only to worship themselves. Syrinx knew all too well what she would get herself into in life. He had gotten himself?
into half of it, ?You do what you do for your family. They are the same things I would do for my own. Still...let?s quit acting as though there?s?
a shred of nobility beyond our devotion to our family,? ?
?
??You question me about blood. It runs deeper. It connects us or tears us apart. They are the most lethal to us because they know us.?
Regardless, your standing and my own standing on watching the world burn are entirely selfish. We could protect them without such means. We?
just have a thirst for chaos,? He would stand and regard her for a long moment; watching her was thrilling because it was like talking to?
himself. Her mind was fresh and it needed to be trained more to what a Queen needed to be, but every glimmer of chance and possibility was?
written there. She was the most capable he had seen in so long. Breathtaking. ?Can you agree that should you have no family you?d likely still?
want to tear down the pillars that hold our world? You would. As would I. Though, maybe then it would be from the speakings of loneliness.?
Maybe then it would change our regards. I?m not evil. I just have an interesting way of showing my good intentions to those that think themselves?
more entitled,? And that was true. Syrinx would die for his family if asked of him. He?d lie down and allow his life be taken for anyone blood?
to him or that had sworn themselves to their family, but until that day he would continue on his bravado of rage and animosity to push away those?
that were too weak to follow behind him. Those that were too ill-minded to assist in the protection of his family would be warded off by either his?
grotesque features or the abominable personality. Either way, only select few would be wise enough to judge the man by his purpose versus his?methods of fulfilling his purpose.

She was well-versed in the art of combat, having spent the majority of her youth enamored by the power of physical strength and tactic, but her wit and judgment were lacking and therefore she had never truly been capable of governing a nation?no matter what her arrogance willed her to believe. It was for this reason?her overflowing self-confidence and ability in battle?and this reason alone that she had had the means to thieve a crown so early in her youth, and it was for this reason alone that she had discarded the same crown only just after she had seized it. Her lack of experience in a position of authority would always keep her from maintaining power no matter how many thrones she would occupy in her lifetime, and only once she was educated upon leadership would she truly breach her maximum potential. Thus, it was not a question of when she would be able to fulfill her self-proclaimed destiny of supremacy, but a question of how?and perhaps the very answer to this question was conveniently poised before her very own eyes and she was too blind to realize it. He would shed light upon his victory over the ice king (her former king) and his immaculate beauty, but the paladin understood that Isardis was not worshipped for his beauty alone. After all, Artemis herself had not been persuaded into Glaciem?s fold because of the desire to possess the king due to his pristine genetics (for she had never truly grasped the concept of lust quite yet), but had been convinced through his silver tongue. He was intelligent and had the ability to tweak the minds of his inferiors to suit his own desires through unique mannerisms (hers through praise), and thus was more dangerous than the red titan seemed to believe. ?It is quite obvious that the strong will prevail over the beautiful. Beauty will not save a man from a monster, will it? Intelligence, however?? she mused, delving further into her own beliefs. ?The intelligent are, perhaps, the most dangerous of them all.? It was a suggestion; she knew not why the behemoth had taken such an interest in the albino sovereign but perhaps her insight would prove to be useful to the brute. After all, she had spent seasons beneath Isardis? wing; who better to know of the king?s intelligence than one who had been manipulated by him? She found herself captivated by him?his speech demanded the entirety of her attention and she would willingly gift it to him, her celestial gaze never once wavering from his grotesque countenance as he spoke of we and us as a whole and not two unique individuals. A smirk would encumber her porcelain features but even still it was a vague expression that would not allow an insight to the thoughts swarming through her diseased mind as she pondered the knowledge he infiltrated deep into the confines of her skull. ?You speak as if you have me figured out,? she accused, a singular brow quirking upon her forehead contemplatively. She stared at him for a long moment, then finally: ?Perhaps you do.? She would move, her rump leaving the earth abruptly as she sought to swiftly devour the slight distance between them with elongated and graceful strides. Her stance was unguarded although she was treading dangerous waters, mismatched amethyst and silver gaze unmoving from his own cyan as she made her daring approach, attempting to halt mere inches from his own gargantuan form. Still she was silent?almost robotic-like as she searched his features, transfixed and emotionless. ?Does this thirst for chaos deserve to be quenched?? It was not only a question, but an invitation. ?Would you act upon your desires as I would?will?