? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? and in the abandon of a sickly queen another empire had crumbled, her carmine beauty?s once-domineering aroma now stale and forgotten -- much like the realm they had declared their own. yet the former tyrant proceeds beyond the threshold of her rightful domain with an air of caution, mismatched gaze ever attentive to her misted surroundings as diligent pupils ravage the premises for stray invaders that dared to linger within the enigmatic crypt -- theirs. but the elysius deity finds the wood deserted, pleasure creeping upon her ragged and porcelain features in the form of a bewitching grin as she halts in her elegant stride, drawing adjacent to the small enclave she once inhabited -- the cavern that reeked of death and despair. but the fragrance of decay is a sweet aphrodisiac to the phantom, and frayed lips begin to flutter with contentment as her frigid gaze scans every inch of her chamber?s exterior to find it unscathed. ?clearly, whichever incompetent fool that scavenged your crown had no intent upon dwelling here,? the tyrant remarks indifferently, mismatched gaze fixating upon the nubile physique of her scarlet consort as she approaches their destination. whether or not fiamette intends to regain her throne is unknown to the elysius deity, but she will annihilate those that oppose the woman -- whatever her ambitions may be.

Although her actual illness had been quelled by her immune system, it sickened her to return to her once impeccable home. She had so much going for her members, she was just about to spice things up in the world of Alacritis, but of course, mother nature had made its own plans. The kingdom that her ivory tyrant had selflessly given to her was nothing more than a haunting memory now- but she had no doubts in her mistress. Their kingdom would be reborn from the ashes, even if she must forfeit her life to ensure her consort regains a throne. After all she owes herself to Artemis- and she wouldn't have it any other way. She follows her consort through the territory without hesitation, Marco, her wolverine companion, trails hastily in the brush after them. Volcanic orbs scan their surroundings, her actions mimicking Artemis' in every way. When no strays could be found, the ivory goddess makes a b line toward her old den, and Fiamette follows, disregarding the impulse to visit her own abandoned den. Wherever Artemis was would be considered home now. The cavern reeks of rotting flesh, and the scent brings a crooked smirk to the woman's velveteen lips. She is used to enjoying the scent of others despair, it brings her joy to know they had fallen while she still lives to bring havoc to this world. Art scans the exterior of her den before she completely enters, and Fiamette follows closely behind her, her carmine painted bodice slipping carefully into the small opening. Art speaks, her mismatched gaze lingering toward Fiamette's hell stricken glare. It is pitiful that Art is right, how dare someone claim her ruins and leave the lands Artemis had lost blood for. "Pitiful. They took away the fun of having to run them out when we returned." It would have been much more satisfying to sever heads from shoulders upon their arrival, but sadly there was no one here to torture. She falls silent for a moment, her gaze lingering upon Arts as she aims to stare into her lovers eyes. It is weird how the universe works, never in a million years would she have imagined herself so deeply in love with such a magnificent being. She can only hope Artemis shares similar feelings. She feels a warm sensation course through her veins when she looks at the woman, a strong feeling that could drive her to the darkest places to keep the mistress happy. "I want it back." She remarks, her eyes daring to trail away from her mistress' powerful stare. She couldn't look at her when she says this, it was embarrassing to remember how she had lost her most prizes possession to an illness. "speech"

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? satisfaction glazes her frigid gaze as the elysius fervently examines the fallen empress?s countenance, a smirk engraving the porcelain folds of her own visage as the scarlet beauty?s lips contort with wry amusement as opposed to disgust -- evidently enthralled by the grotesque decor littering her haven. and her own mismatched eyes are magnetized to the decapitated skull at the corner of her chambers, brows furrowing only minutely as she regards how the gouged eyes of her victims deteriorate with age -- festering with maggots and nearly vanished { the russet pawn?s more so than her traitor sibling?s }. and as her trophies diminish, so the urge to expand upon her macabre collection grows prominent -- yet who currently warrants her wrath is unknown even to the pallid deity. for as far as the tyrant knows, her true adversaries have all dropped like flies; flies she would rather have squashed beneath a justified and ruthless fist. the empress?s remark elicits a soft and mirthless chortle from the elysius, robust appendages propelling her nearer to her gored medals as thoughts { so twisted, pestilent } run rampant through the chasms of an ever-scheming mind. indifference befalls her marred features as silence consumes her malevolent entity, a singular forepaw extending towards the skull so that her digits may lightly stroke the rugged bone upon its cranium -- thoughtfully. yet the cryptic motion ceases altogether as her consort voices a desire -- a desire that had since plagued the tyrant queen from the moment they fled their realm. ?and whose crown shall fall from undeserving temples, little demon?? the phantom queries, a single brow quirking upon her forehead as she spares her empress a knowing glance. there was no questioning the nymph?s ambitions and no need for reasoning; their desires were mutual, as would be their power.

Merciless gaze follows the ivory deity as she moves further into her dens chamber, the nymph herself aiming to trail after the woman so she can gaze upon the wraiths magnificent trophy. Excitement courses through her iron veins as Artemis gawks at the rotting skull, she knows this trophy must be Art's most prized possession- after all, it was proof of her numerous victories in battle. Maggots writhe within the eye sockets, the tiny worms eating their way through the eyes Art had ensnared from her victims. To most wolves it would be a disgusting sight, but to them, this was glory. The carmine beauty remains silent as her mistress chuckles at her statement, brows furrowing upon her forehead as she watches Artemis approach her enticing center piece. A single ivory (and flawless) paw lifts to gently stroke the bone of the sufferer's skull, and Fiamette finds her voice once again. "It's so divine, my paramour." She compliments the gored medal with glory in her tone, she absolutely loves what Artemis has created, and wouldn't mind adding on an accessory herself. ?and whose crown shall fall from undeserving temples, little demon?? Silence minutely falls around them as the nymph contemplates her answer to Art's question. At this time she has no adversary's with a crown to steal from their heads, so which pack did she think deserved to be destroyed? She did not know, in fact, she didn't know what packs still stood since their departure from Alacritis. "I'm not sure." She finally says, her shoulders lifting and falling in a shrug like motion. "Perhaps we should stir up some trouble, and see which fools dare to retaliate." She suggests to the merciless tyrant. After all, they seemed to have the most fun when they were terrorizing the cowardly twits of Alacritis. "Speech"

? ? ? ? ?? ? ? ? ? the commending croon of her scarlet empress diverts the deity?s attention from her macabre embellishments and unto the babe?s pristine visage, abstract gaze uniting with the beauty?s molten as a thoughtful chuckle reverberates within her larynx. ?this collection has yet to expand, dove,? the elysius ensures her consort with a reassuring incline of her pallid skull, avid pupils noticeably shrouded by a newfound gleam of mischief. for the phantom knows she and her carmine counterpart are tyrants in their own right who thrive off of wreaking havoc upon subservient dregs, and she knows they will disassemble their adversaries piece by pitiful p i e c e. after all, they had been denied this right due to the unknown ailment that wracked the former sovari; but with their return, destruction would once more befall alacritia. and it would appear that the scarlet beauty?s mindset had, indeed, been distorted by a desire to annihilate { as the tyrant queen had expected }, a soft smirk unfolding across frayed lips as the elysius regards the nymph fondly. proceeding a prolonged period of contemplative silence, the pallid deity?s skull bobs in acceptance, frigid gaze diverting momentarily from the sanguine depths of her consort?s own before robust limbs propel the tyrant languidly towards the beauty. and as she breaches the nymph?s personal proximities, she halts in her stride, gazing down the length of her snout as she briefly interlocks her pupils with fiamette?s own. ?as you wish, little empress,? she sneers playfully { so uncharacteristic of the ruthless tyrant! } as her pallid skull seeks to rest gently on the top of the scarlet?s own. and while the motion may have been awkward for the phantom to perform { for she is so unfamiliar with affection }, she knows her little demon favors close-contact, and thus, certain sacrifices are made to appease the nymph.