A sense of nostalgia flooded every fiber of Epiphron Adravendi's being as she danced closer to the borders of the mangrove. Despite the season -- the air temperature had dropped even in the east, and the earth beneath her paws was dusted with a light coating of freshly fallen snow -- the mangrove was still spectacular to behold in the darkness of night. The water shimmered in the distance, a strange mixture of of blue and green, accentuated by the glow of the moon overhead. Silence seemed to have taken hold of these lands and precariously she would wander near its borders, wary to not cross into claimed territory. Something about this place was familiar, though she hadn't explored the mangrove before; the scent was certainly something she had encountered before, but she couldn't quite place it in her memory.

A pang of regret would wrack her heart as she trailed the border, overwhelmed by curiosity she could not stifle. She hadn't explored the eastern lands of Alacritia too much -- she was much more familiar with the west, and needless to say she avoided the more northern lands entirely. A breath of smoky air would escape her lips as she continued to wander, eying the mangrove from a distance still; who claimed these lands as their own now? Once she knew Ludicael had resided her, though she hadn't known much about them, as the alliance had been formed not by herself but by the rulers before her, Gerhardt. The mere thought of him made her shudder slightly, as he reminded her irrevocably of Maverick; an unpleasant tightness gripped her chest as the memories returned to her.

How much had changed, she wondered? She had to find out -- even if it meant awakening a stranger in the dead of night. With little hesitation she would raise her muzzle to the sky, letting out a soft call, one not filled with urgency but instead with a gentle curiosity that begged to be sated.

She answers the call, curiosity piqued by its vaguely-familiar voice. Quietly, slowly, she approaches, eyes narrowing as she attempts to remember its wielder, pausing several feet away. Recognition flashes suddenly across her features and a pang touches her heart, nostalgia rising. "Epiphron?" she whispers quietly, unable to raise her voice any higher through the pain that afflicts her so. She remembers meeting the woman--remembers dragging her heavily-pregnant form across Alacritia to Valhalla to forge that last valued alliance in case she were to perish during her crusade for Kaios' death. Her beautiful children, nestled so unaware in her womb. Memories of her progeny in their carriage and their youth were one of the few things that still moved her--the rest she has slowly but surely desensitized herself to lest she be crippled with constant emotional toil, moreso than now. Mercury waddles along beside her, settling quietly at her side, watching the woman warily despite Jupiter's recognition of her. The scarred phoenix swallows, sitting down slowly, recovering. "It's been a while." Statement is simple, quiet. Searching for the woman's intent as her nostrils flare to take in that rogue aroma.

The kings and queens had fallen from their thrones and she in turn had distanced herself from the politics of it all -- the former ruler of an empire was now known by few and far between. Time had changed so much, and she was no exception. Sapphire gaze fixated on the familiar woman as she approached, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. They had met before, though were not well acquainted, but her familiar presence brought an undeniable warmth to her chest. "Jupiter," she would greet her gently, for the night was peaceful and she was unwilling to break the serene atmosphere.

Her memory of the woman was pleasant. She'd been a long-time ally to Seracia and she'd left a reasonable impression on her when she'd met her at the borders of Valhalla. Perhaps her own recollection of the meeting was slightly biased, as she'd been overwhelmed with joy at reuniting with her sister Chrysanthe, but she felt nothing but amiable toward Jupiter. "It has been," Epiphron agreed somberly, nodding. Jupiter seemed more tired than she remembered, but she knew she looked no different. "How things have changed..." Where Jupiter had been, she had no idea, but it seemed as though she had returned to where she had once ruled. "Do you rule here again?" she would inquire curiously, head tilting slightly to the side as her gaze fell from Jupiter to her companion, and then back again.  "I was wondering when I might see a familiar face in these lands..."

The phoenix remembers the woman's kingdom--Valhalla, ruled with her sister (Chris? Chysallis? Krishan?) whose name her aging mind cannot quite drag fully back from the depths just yet. Jupiter relaxes in the other's presence--a rare occurrence brought by a void in her usual paranoia. For now, the Sol is certain that Epiphron is not an assassin from her past come to take her head. The small talk also eases her mind, having found very little of it since her return. It's nice, she supposes, to see a familiar face from the past that has (hopefully) never wanted to see her demise. Soft but bittersweet smile pulls her lips taut. "I get sick and leave for a little and the whole world goes to hell," she muses with salted humor. The inquiry of her rule rises and briefly she wonders how Epiphron fell from grace with her own kingdom. "Yes," she replies, "I reclaimed Ludicael. I created it and one day, I'll bring it to dust again, I suppose." Abyssal pupils wander slightly as she speaks, fixing on an unfathomable point in the distance as she ponders the possibility. Optics snap back to the woman cloaked in youth that the Sol almost misses. "Same," comes her slightly-relieved sigh. Nostalgia gnaws at her mind again at the casualness in which they converse, almost urging her to stray from it in a bout of stubbornness. She fights her will to cling to the relaxation that soothes her stalwarts that ache slightly from their constant tension. "What happened to Valhalla?" comes her gentle inquiry, almost tentative, not quite wishing to pry if it proves a sensitive memory.

Though she had only met Jupiter once before, she felt a strange sort of connection to her. They had met during a good time in her life; she remembers Valhalla and Seracia in a way others do not. 'I get sick and leave for a little and the whole world goes to hell,' Jupiter mused and she found herself smiling slightly, understanding the feeling all too well.  "I miss those days," she would comment conversationally, allowing herself to relax as she leaned back, reclining on her haunches.

So she'd taken Ludicael.   "Good for you," she'd state, voice laced with something like playfulness. The scent of the land with thick with the scent of wolves, so she figured she already had a decently-sized pack -- unaware that most were prisoners.

The question wasn't an entirely pleasant one, but mostly for reasons Jupiter didn't know. She hadn't seen her family there since the pack had been taken and she hardly knew precisely what had unfolded. "Honestly, I don't know. They were weak after the siege with the northerners and it seems someone else took over..."   A shrug was offered, the tone of her voice shifting into something far more serious. Did Jupiter know about the fight that had unfolded? Did she know Chrysanthe had been partially blinded by the northern Queen? A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.   "I was too tired to run Seracia, and the woman that took over essentially let the pack die." Head would shake side to side, her irritation at this fact obvious.    "I suppose I've been relatively out of commission since then. It seems I've missed far more than I expected... but what of you? How did Ludicael come back to you?"

She nods solemnly at Epiphron's affirmation, features changing to allow a soft smile at the playful words that follow. For a moment she loses herself in the nostalgia of it all, dial tilting upwards to gaze at the mangrove canopy stretched above them with a fondness unmatched for a long moment. Audits flicks at the mention of a siege, brow furrowing with thought. An event that happened in her absence, perhaps? Mind draws blanks at a siege other than the one foiled by cowardice. She wonders quietly as to the identity of the 'northerners' and briefly wonders if Isardis still ruled during that time. Head turns sympathetically as she mentions the death of Seracia and wonders as to the fate of Gerhardt. He'd been scarce before the phoenix had departed in her illness. "The pack was practically dead when I took it," she murmurs, bitterness lacing her tone. "Didn't seem like it was very active." Scent markers had been dull and faded in the territory they had moved it to. "They'd changed the name to 'Sawtooth'--" Nose crinkles as she says it, showing her obvious disdain for how unfitting the name was. "--and moved it away from its heart. Here." Weight shifts as she gazes around at their surroundings quietly for a moment. "I challenged and only Song--the one who had taken the pack after me, the one who I had fought for for years and the one that didn't come to look for me when I was sick--answered. And she tried to give it to me." Jupiter pauses here, seeking Epiphron's eyes to gauge her reaction. "I'm sick of nobody fighting for what they care about. So I took them." Body turns half-away to gesture to the mangroves. "All of them. They're all here, somewhere. Prisoner." The corners of her lips twitch. "All they'd have to do is attempt to fight me for their freedom. Show that they care. But I haven't seen hide nor hair of over half of them since I took Ludicael." She chuckles darkly. "So if they care so little about their freedom, I'll watch it for them."

Why exactly she feels warmly toward Jupiter, Epiphron is not sure, but her gut instincts haven't ever led her too far astray. Gerhardt had spoken fondly of her and she had been an ally to the Kingdom of Seracia -- and to Valhalla, too -- in the past. Her orange coat is soothing to her eyes, and silently she appreciates the woman's beauty as she speaks. Her voice was riddled with quiet passion that cannot be ignored, and Epiphron feels a faint smile creeping over her features, turning the corners of her lips upward slightly. Sawtooth was not a name she had heard of before, but she recalled that the Destruction family had been a large part of Ludicael in some time. She'd only met one member of the family that she remembered, but knew they were a large group, spread widely throughout Alacritia.

She listened to Jupiter's story carefully. Song was a name she was familiar with. She'd taken the pack from Jupiter, who'd fought for her, and she hadn't even tried to find her when she was sick? Her own nose wrinkled in distaste. She, too, knew what betrayal felt like -- and sometimes simple neglect was the worst form of betrayal.  "Your anger is justified," she noted conversationally, as though they were talking about the weather rather than the freedom of a dozen or so wolves.    "Can you imagine being held as a prisoner and not fighting for your freedom?" It was a rhetorical question and she found herself almost laughing at the prospect. Perhaps she could understand for some, but for none to fight -- to even try? Though she was not a fighter at heart, she couldn't imagine being taken and doing nothing about it. The core of her being rested on being free, on being controlled by none other than herself; she felt herself seething slightly, joining in with Jupiter's own bitterness, at how weak these wolves sounded. If they were not willing to fight to be free, to fight for their families, what would they fight for?  "Unbelievable," she laughed under her breath. Perhaps Jupiter was a woman she could get along with after all. "What do you want for Ludicael? Aside from these prisoners?"

They are more alike than she remembers. Perhaps it is the nostalgia of ghosts from past lives, or times simply changing them both to mold them into something more compatible. The woman poses a question the draws a snort, sharp and sneering, from her nostrils. "I'd be better off dead." Truly, she would. To her, battle solves things. It solved her problem with Kaios and secured her place in Ludicael many times. Greater than peace, greater than diplomacy, battle has ensured her safety and well-being more than anything she had ever known. And it is for this that she adores it. Head bobs in agreement. It feels as if the pacifists are of a completely different species--a lesser one, no doubt. Possums, perhaps--things that fall dead and useless at the first sign of dangers. She suppresses the amusement at the relation as she thinks of it; they are possums, for sure. Demeanor shifts to a more serious and pensive note as the woman inquires of her goal for Ludicael. "It's hard to discern," she admits. She smiles, genuinely, head raising. "Ludicael was always... a refuge. And it still will be--just for a different kind of wolves." Grin morphs to one more mischievous, a little more wicked, but still well-intended. "A place where those who aren't afraid to fight can thrive and battle and conquer to their hearts content. And one day, the ones that are afraid of battle will realize that they can have nothing while they're not willing to fight for it." Jupiter views it as a better world, one full of individuals willing to bring justice and peace through action, not just empty words and cowardice.

Epiphron had never known a life without freedom. Only briefly had she been worried that she might be forced into an existence that she did not agree with -- but she had easily changed the circumstances to better suit her needs. She wondered why these wolves did not even try for their freedom; Jupiter made it seem as though they had hardly even asked. Even if they did not win, it seemed Jupiter just wanted to see them fight and bleed for what they loved -- and if they were not even willing to do that, would they fight for anything?

A sigh left her lips, head shaking gently from side to side.   "I am not a fighter," she admits with little shame. Once, she had wanted to train to defend her pack, but quickly she had realized she could control others just as well with her tongue as others did with their fangs and claws.  "Not in the physical sense." Her sister was much more bold in that matter; she'd lost an eye in defending her home, and her family. Epiphron's only scar was her tattered ear, which she'd lost in her failed attempt at settling the tension she had felt between she and Azalea, but she had failed.   "Though I certainly do not fear it."

A russet ear would flick in mild curiosity as she studied Jupiter still. It was obvious the aged woman had seen her fair share of battles, and she found herself admiring the woman quietly -- even if she would not admit to it.  "What of wolves like me, Jupiter?" the woman would inquire curiously, her voice laced with something akin to playfulness. "Do you have place for a woman like me, if only temporarily?"

The woman justifies herself but Jupiter is not a woman that will require her justification. Nostrils have already drawn in that wanted lack of definitive scent that states her being of a pack.  "That's alright," she responds gently, smile spreading across her features. Yes, she would appreciate having this piece of nostalgia comfortably near--this symbol of a vibrant past still shining among them. "Give me a specialty," she responds. "Something you think you're good at. And Ludicael will make room." The woman would be the head of whatever she wished--perhaps not extremely high up in the ranks but good enough to know that Jupiter respects her. Ears flick. "A diplomat, perhaps? A herald of war?" She takes her own turn to become playful. "Harbinger--how does that sound?" The firebird ponders this with a crafty smile, the only indication that she is actually speaking to Epiphron (rather than just rambling to herself) lying in the inquiring look she offers at the end of her question.

So much has been taken from her -- still Epiphron feels stupid for trusting her former husband at all. She is royalty regardless of title and she regrets basing her world around someone who did not deserve her, who cheated on her with ease, who debased her and betrayed her. What she knows she needs is something new; something to inspire her and to breathe new life into her again. Reuniting with her children was a good first step but she needs more, and suddenly she wonders if Jupiter can provide it for her, even if only temporarily.

Jupiter seems willing to give her a chance, and she finds a playful smirk of her own dancing across her lips. She asks Epiphron's specialty, suggesting the title of harbinger for her. "A herald of sorts, then?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. "I am good with others. I don't think I will disappoint you in such a role." What exactly Jupiter has planned for her, she does not know, but she needs something to keep her grounded -- to keep sanity from leaving her. Too much loss plagues her heart and she needs something new to focus her energy on. "All I ask is that you do not prevent me from leaving if I ever must," she says tentatively. "Though I can guarantee that I won't up and leave for no reason. " She is a deliberate woman, never making choices on a mere whim -- but knowing that Jupiter is a woman who takes things by force, the last thing she wants is to promise herself to her for eternity.

She nods, pleased. "Exactly," comes her response, a small grin beginning to bud on the planes of her features. "You won't." Had she been speaking to someone else, the sentence might have been a threat--harsh, cold, demanding but with this piece of her history, comparatively fragile when lined up beside Jupiter's own experience, she is gentle, confident. Reassuring. Lips purse at her final request and she ruminates over this wish, expression unfathomable in its utter neutrality. "I trust you with your freedom," she decides. Her own silence had been longer than needed. Within the first quarter of it she'd known the words she was going to say but something else had stayed her lips. Perhaps it was the desired quality of suspense--that reminder of the individual in power in a way so subtle, so potent that it inflicts more subliminal effects than completely conscious ones. "Speak to me before you leave. If you ask, I will release you." Soft smile touched her lips. Epiphron is not a Destruction--not a scapegoat or creator of her problems. Therefor, she has no qualms with the woman, with the ghost of her past. Pregnant pause seals her lips for a long moment before she turns partially away, rising to her paws. "Care for a tour?" she inquires in an affable rumble, tail flicking in a gentle beckon. "It's on the house." Legs shift her form into a slow but gradual gait as she begins to drift away, pausing only to wait for the woman at the edge of the white mangrove line."" [ exit Jupiter w/ Epiphron? ]

What does she have to lose? She is quick to lay out her terms -- she will serve under Jupiter's rule so long as she is promised her freedom if she requests it. For her, family comes first, regardless of other obligations; nothing is above blood for the Adravendi woman. Now that she has reunited with her children and is certain they are all well, she knows she needs to find purpose outside of their lives, for they have moved on without her and no longer require her constant attention -- not that they ever needed it for long.

It takes the other woman a moment to agree, but Epiphron finds herself smiling, with the briefest hint of mischief in her gaze. "I appreciate this," she says finally, taking the moment of silence to consider. She had known nothing but positive things about Jupiter, and about Ludicael; she had no doubt she would be satisfied here.

Epiphron would slowly rise as Jupiter moved to turn, stretching her limbs and letting her tail curve momentarily above her back. "A tour would be wonderful," she agrees readily. "It's a shame I never came to visit sooner..." her saccharine tones are nostalgic. Things had not been simple then, but she couldn't help but feel wistful as she recalled the days when she had ruled the kingdom of Seracia alongside her former husband. Perhaps, here, she could build a better life again -- she knew there was a slim chance of it getting any worse than it had been the last few seasons.