Her rage had blossomed and festered into internal calamity, producing maleficent schemes that revolved around obtaining retribution for her siblings? distress at the paws of subservient fools that believed themselves more entitled. The Elysius deity was livid?consumed by a need to destroy and conquer the pretenders that had seized her family?s domain, and although it would have been ideal to strike them while they were down ( while ravaged by disease ), the tyrant was either too merciful to prey upon the weak, or too eager to prove her worth through defeating the able. Regardless of her reasoning, the white witch had resolved upon which crown she should thieve and which throne would uphold those blessed with her supreme blood and surname; the only uncertainty left to plague her mind was the question of when. Despite the fury crawling beneath her skin, the wraith moved with the elegance of a queen, robust form serpentine as she maneuvered along the rugged walls of her temporary shelter towards the rear of the cavern. Silver moonlight crept through the mouth of her cave, dancing across its interior to illuminate her surroundings and to cast a vibrant gleam upon the shallow water at her ankles, allowing for her reflection to glare back at her from the surface. No longer did her porcelain countenance display whelp-like youth, nor did it retain its purity; her marred flesh told the tale of battles past and the malicious glint to her cryptic gaze of the turmoil that wracked her very being. She was neither a beauty to dote upon nor a revolting sight to behold?she was simply an image of immense vigor and fortitude, but an image that had yet to bask in the limelight it deserved. ?In due time.

Long legs pulled him across the rocky surface of the cavern. His mind was a void, lacking any real emotion as he surveyed the land before him. His mind's usual companion, anger, seemed to be resting in the deep void of his conscious. The soft click, click of his claws, as he walked echoed through the cavern. An alluring scent drew him forward- a smell he hadn't been blessed with in such proximity for a while. Female. He approached the form, his dark body curved into the shadows, as he brushed against the cavern. Easily, a competent wolf would have scented his approach, and heard it by now- would she prove to be such a creature? She seemed to be studying her reflection in the water- and he approached her, coming from the shadows behind her. She was a contrast to him- a pretty white thing. She was shorter than he was, though he supposed in comparison to a lot of the wolves he'd encountered- he was a giant. Standing at a towering forty-two inches, he had spent a lot of time in his life looking down on most wolves. However, he had learned, as some of the scars on his marred body would show, not to judge another by height alone. He would halt, stopping about four feet from her before he would speak. "Is it vanity or ambition that cast your eyes to adore your own reflection?" His voice rumbled a deep baritone, that echoed around them slightly. His tone was empty, hollow really, though he could feel his familiar friend stirring beneath him. Would this dame stir the beast to life, or would she quiet him? Speech,

She hears the familiar cacophony of footfalls as they reverberate off the narrow walls of her temporary haven, though she harbors no impulse to turn and greet her spectator--she has no will for fear or trepidation, and therefore sees no reason to fret. Abstract gaze remains fixated upon her own reflection as his scent writhes through leathery nostrils, and briefly, her mind wanders--had the salacious fragrance of her heat attracted a potential suitor? The prospect mattered little to the wraith; she is not a lecherous concubine who willingly spreads her legs for any man, and any man who presumed otherwise would be met with a most treacherous fate. He, however ( whoever he was ), portrayed no incent to charm, and her ears merely careen in his direction as his baritone vocals pierce the silent atmosphere surrounding them, voice amplified within the cavern. She offers him a resounding and amused grunt in response, drawing her skull back to its full apex while her pupils remain locked upon the surface of the water. ?Neither; only curiosity,? she informs, tone retaining its typical monotony. Mismatched gaze finally wavers in pursuit of his own, curiosity piqued by her current company. Violet and silver gaze intertwines with his own molten, and the ghost of a smirk caresses her velveteen lips as she momentarily indulges in his behemoth exterior. The Elysius deity is not a woman who is easy to impress based upon outward carriage alone; and yet, his physique screams of the potential swarming within his veins, and the phantom finds herself vaguely enthralled. The scars variously etched throughout his dark flesh serve as testimonies to his conquests and they outnumber her own by far--though she is hardly the militant to underestimate, even with such a dainty stature in comparison to the grand majority. She possesses an aura of confidence that is undeniable, and her immaculate poise only emphasizes it. ?C o m e,? she beckons, her vocals a domineering command that she supposes he will adhere to, hind limbs shuffling backwards to grant him room as her muzzle gestures towards the surface of the water beneath her. ?Tell me: what do you see?? It is an inquiry that is open for interpretation; he is welcome to inform her of his outward appearance or even something that lurks beneath that none other may view upon first glance.

His titian gaze studies the pale specter. He takes in her scent- and does not ignore the instinctual impulses he feels as he scents her heat. Rather he quiets them. He has no interest in her. He's interested only in the best. He won't mix genes with someone he does not deem worthy. There is silence for a few seconds, and then she speaks. Her words- instead of annoying him, intrigue him. She seems quick witted with her tongue. Is that the only thing she is quick with, he wonders? Compared to his gigantic form- she is nearly an imp, a small deity, but she seems so calm- collected, almost egotistical. He lets out a small snort in response to her words, not of derision or disbelief, rather a simple acknowledgement. Her gaze meets his, her eyes are a mismatched pair. She beckons him, and he steps forward, coming to stand beside the pixie like wolf. She is average height, to those that are merely average wolves- but to he, and to those like him, she is nearly angelic. She questions him, and he obliges, looking down through his molten gaze and into the pool. He sees the marred reflection of himself staring up at him, and he blinks. She speaks again, interrupting the silence between them and he thinks for a moment before he replies- his voice, dark and brooding. "I see power.. and darkness." He speaks seriously. His tone echoing around him. His molten gaze turns to rest upon her angelic form- the fire within them, nearly an echo to the fire inside his chest. "What do you see?" He asks, returning the question- throwing it back into her field. She is intriguing, and interesting specimen, of that he has little doubt. Speech,

A battered behemoth and yet he adheres to the command of an imp without question or forethought, devouring the distance lingering between their contrasting forms with a singular stride to fill the void left in her absence. And the crownless queen remains unflinching -- undaunted by the proximities she had demanded, broadened chest cavity inflating with raw and unwavering confidence as her sloped skull tilts back to regard him with an abstract gaze that is entirely fixated. Like a lioness observing her prey, the phantom watches -- pupils ravenously transfixed upon his lowered countenance as he indulges in his own reflection upon her demand, frayed lips quirking upwards in a tentative smirk as sinful incisors protrude from blackened gums-----hauntingly. His verdict only forces the wry grin to elongate across the premises of her faintly marred and porcelain visage out of complacency before she encroaches further upon his personal space, peering over the shoulder nearest to her so that she may share his view and bless it with her own. ?In myself?? she reiterates, brows furrowing upon a creased forehead in deep contemplation as she meets her own gaze, staring back at her from the water?s surface with evident malevolence. ?Ambition -- relentless determination.? Vocals are a cryptic litany, laced with a sincerity that matches that which plagues her stoic countenance. It is then that she retreats from his proximities, mismatched amethyst and silver gaze searching yet again for his robust physique as she attempts to maneuver around him -- encircling him once as her pupils ravage every inch of his body with unsated gluttony. ?But in you, I see potential,? she admits, baiting him with a compliment that cascades so easily from velvet lips -- like silk. ?What is your name, O Dark and Powerful One?? the deity taunts, halting in her lackadaisical saunter as she approaches his front yet again, a single brow elevated with curiosity.

The imp moves, closer to him- her ivory fur barely brushing the tips of his own ebony hues- or so he thinks he feels. She peers over his shoulder, as his smoldering gaze stares into the reflecting liquid. He blinks, in the aftermath of his words- the quiet rumble that seems to echo around them like the calls of war. He tosses her own question back to her, and waits- she speaks, and his ears flick back towards her- taking in her words. She claims to see ambition, and relentless determination in herself. Something about the severity of her tone- does not make him doubt that she does, indeed see these things. He chuckles though, turning his head now, his smoldering gaze seeking her out. The chuckle that reverberates through his body is an odd, choking sound- something he's not overly familiar with expressing.

He watches her move around him, his eyes following her movements lazily, but with the careful intensity of a soldier. He blinks at her words "Potential for..?"He trails off, his baritone words leaving the question hanging. She asks of his name, and he gives her a long look- his molten gaze lingering on her impish physique. "I've gone by many names, little imp, but Joker- is my most prominent." He falls silent for a moment, before claiming the tide of the conversation with is own question. "What do they call you? What names are screamed by the families of your victims?"His voice is nearly a purr, the tones rough, as he gazes at her with curiosity.

His strangled { and mirthless } chortle in response to her self-assessment causes the vaguest sensation of defiance to pulse through her interior; the phantom deity is nothing to scoff at --- she is refined, potent, and a ROSE among negligent thorns. Despite the flare of vexation that ignites within the chasms of her pestilent mind, her countenance retains its indifferent guise as her abstract gaze lingers upon the molten depths of his own eyes, curiously. He is oblivious to her compliment?s purpose, and a sigh touches frayed lips as the wraith reclines upon her haunches, chest inflated with palpable confidence and a trace of fearlessness within the looming presence of a behemoth. ?You seem capable of annihilating those who dare oppose you,? the paladin clarifies, shoulders rolling faintly in a shrug. As his next words surface, reverberating off of the narrow walls of their confines, the wraith exerts an exasperated snort in response to the moniker he bestows upon her ----- imp. Skull elevates to its maximum apex as if to disprove his claims, though it is a sly maneuver she attempts not to draw too much attention to while her posture straightens and spine stretches accordingly. ?Joker? You aren?t very funny,? she sneers, metallic and violet eyes narrowing with wry contempt. As he reiterates her question, stroking her ego in the process { perhaps he, too, had an eye for deciphering the competent from the subservient }, a wicked smirk chisels her marred facial features. ?Artemis --- Artemis Elysius,? she informs, pride evidently lacing her tones.

'You seem capable of annihilating those who dare oppose you,' She speaks, and his he nods solemnly. His brown furrows at her words, and he is silent for a moment. "You seem to exude confidence. Are you as dangerous as you seem to portray?" He muses aloud, a slight smirk growing on his ebony jaws. He blinks, his molten gaze raking over her body- eyes burning as he takes her in. She is small, but he has seen deadly imps before. She snorts as he bestows her nickname, and he chuckles again. "Don't take imp as an insult, love. I've seen imps slay giants." His voice is low, a slight scoff to his tone. She goes on, mocking his name and he raises his head slightly, lips curling over his teeth in a mocked smile. "Maybe you lack a sense of humor?" He sneers in return, though amusement litters in his eyes. She is feisty this imp.

She introduces herself as Artemis Elysius, a bit of pride in her last name and he wonders if that is a name of power in these lands. He notes her name, and the origins of it. "Isn't Artemis the name of a Goddess of Wisdom?" He inquires. "You don't seem old enough to be wise." He returns her earlier sneer. Yes, he knows a little history. Through his travels he has heard stories upon stories, in different parts of the world.