She walked like a girl with the world upon her shoulders, gait a heavy limp as she pulled herself through the lands, the open wound upon her hind right limb the obvious source. The less obvious? The familial ties that she was bound to, the blood of the gods that coursed through her veins, the push and desire to prove herself. The cacophony of scarred flesh displayed that she was more than experience in fighting her way through life, more capable than the average yearling was. She was undefeated, injured and bloodied, but nobody had made the Olympian surrender. And she would do her very best to make sure none ever made her kneel, to ensure that none ever got to say they made a god bow.
Alas, she was naught but a shadow upon these lands, a girl with a soft-brown pelt and no army to back her. A pretty sight, despite the slivers of raised flesh upon her, but she was more than that. She was a warrior queen, a woman who would conquer and claim all in the name of the Olympus, but for now she was simply a lost girl. Her second year would be upon her soon, but for now she was naught but a scout, a disguise that nobody would want to see through. Her eyes were on fire, and she would burn this land down with her gaze. All in due time.
Alas, for now the girl would recline, a golden blotch beneath the heavens. Virgil Olympus would most certainly hope that her gods were looking down upon her now and smiling, whether it be out of their greed or from their pleasure that their creation was doing so well. For now, the loneliness set in, and she would shiver, alone but trying to remain confident. Her family would come soon, they wouldn?t leave her here, they had to come.

 

Syrinx had no particular destination, instead he was spending his time meandering. This world was vast and changing and he wanted to figure out what so compelled others to fight so vigorously for what was not actually theirs? It intrigued him in quite a few ways, and though he was mildly indifferent, he posted the reasoning to care because it was something he could have that they couldn't? Perhaps in that right he was selfish, no he was selfish, but that mattered little to him. His sights were set ona a bigger fish that he needed to fry and he would not hesitate to torment it until he had skinned it, deboned it, and devoured it.

He, however, was not the only one out here and wouldn't act as though he would. He had an inkling of curiosity to interact with pretty much anyone and everyone. Granted there was always a different, and usually, wrong motive. this time, the other creature was a woman. One that, though was not perfectly feminine in every way (mostly due to her evidently young age) bore scars that told another story. She seemed to be the fierce type, while also being the type that he felt inclined to draw near. Those that did not seek but were sought.

A fine specimen and he a king of unequivocal interests bore his gaze into her with heavy intentions to know what she was up to. out here bathing in the sun so alone was pretty much asking for trouble. Well, she had gotten it, question was, what would she be doing with it? Filled with gusto the strides of the beast were halted mere feet from her, his wrangled smile twisted into a coy simper and his muscles quivered in questionable anticipation, "If I told you to run...you wouldn't," it was no question. It was a statement--an observation. she did not fear death. She told death to fear her.

Alas, the girl was not to be left alone, not that she would truly complain. Well, at least she wouldn?t have if she hadn?t found the man rather off and creepy. A snort left her nostrils, fiery gaze narrowing into slits. ?The fuck kind of statement is that,? she snapped, tail lashing irritably behind her. No, she wasn?t going to attack, but the woman was a bit of a spitfire. If Virgil found something to be off to stupid or just plain annoying then it would know. ?Do I look like I can fucking run, princess?? she asked him, gesturing towards her injured rear leg.
She eyed the man before her; he was older, larger, but she was not intimidated. The Olympus did not bow, and they did not fear, and although Virgil often found herself trying to remind her natural reactions of this, the stranger in front of her did not instill fear. Not his exposed, bony jaw nor his bulk. She wanted to make this obvious in her posture, in her uncontrolled speech, in the way she dared to look straight into his eyes with a light that spoke of defiance. She was alone and injured, but Virgil would not be walked upon.

 

He watched her in silence, waiting for her reactions, waiting to see if she brimmed with as much promise as the words he had spoken poured into her. A wry grin broke over his lips and he rolled his shoudlers pleasantly as her words curdled forth, "You think I believe a wound would stop you? You do not sit due to injury--but you remain because you needn't fear. It doesn't register with you," It was the best explanation of his mannerisms as he could give her. Perhaps she could come to understand him if she understood what it was he said. She was one to stand in a storm; not evacuate the land.

Eyes were unwavering and he cleared his throat, "Well, was I wrong? No, you're a fighter," she wouldn't give up; and he had to admit that should she, well, he would be immensely disappointed given the gravity he had put into her existence. rarely could he say such a thing, but the youth were strong and obviously independet for she bore no scent of others. she was a raw vagabond--something that he found interesting to watch and think about.

Who the fuck was this guy? Her fiery gaze narrowed upon him, analyzing her as if he knew her. "It'd really fuck up your world if I started crying like a little bitch," she remarked, uncertain if she likely being analyzed. Virgil didn't like to think herself a woman easily defined; nor did she appreciate the efforts of another to make her bow. "Fear registers with me, alright. You're just not scary enough to incite it," she remarked, a blatant insult. She'd kick his ass here and now if he kept annoying her.

He noted her as a fighter and she snorted. "I am an Olympian," she corrected, informing him that she was a god. Well, not a god exactly, but she had their blood. She was more than a foot soldier, more than some amusing circus freak. The man in front of her, however, had yet to truly impress the grouchy yearling. "Why the questions, circus freak? You gonna write me some love letters?" she scoffed, tail twitching behind her. She wanted to know his response, to hear try to figure him out, to shove his cute little psychoanalysis right back up his ass.

 

A smile overtook his shattered appearance and he stared at her positively wildly, "Oh...but it would! I would be perfectly confused. But you won't..." he was certain she wouldn't...enough to bet his life on it--but he was certain that he particularly enjoyed the sight of the woman trying to act so bold and so refutable and positively endangering. She was a sweet thing that needed to be caressed and handled and hurt in many ways--for it would seem as though pain was her vice and not just in one's typical sadistic ways. No, she was the incarnation and empress over both the art of sadism and masochism and he could argue that she preferably liked being this proverbial goddess.

"I don't want to scare you," he purred to her--though his words were jagged and rough and reminicent of a man that had smoked cigars most of his life. Rough and husky and endearing--classy. "An Olympian? Pray-tell what the might incite, mi amor?" the words were dangled and confused in his mind...what liquid did such a title add to her? Was she truly of relevance or did he note the right to turn her away from some great lineage. Surely--she did not understand that she was in the presence of an Adravendi and he only wanted to rub it in her sweet face...for his was a name that few did not know.

"Would you like me to?" he retorted, rather smoothly one might argue, "...shall I compare thee? No...I shall not," he chuckled lowly, "You amuse me, kiddo,"

He irritated her. Who the fuck was this guy to come and start assuming things about her? The woman?s posture stayed stiff and irate, her fiery gaze set upon him, questioning him, challenging him. She noted the absent flesh from his jaw, assuming that somebody must have already taught the prick quite a bit of a lesson. ?You don?t know me. Maybe I will,? she defied him. Perhaps she would, if given reason. The stranger before her was not a good enough reason to run off, and so she would stay, eyeing him down and standing powerfully. Virgil cared little for who he was; he was irritating her, and she wouldn?t let him get any sort of satisfaction from making her back down.

He stated that he didn?t want to scare her and she snorted. ?Then what the hell do you want?? she asked him, suspicious. He was fucking weird, and she wasn?t really sure if she was okay with that. Virgil had better things to do than to sit around and discuss her personality with a stranger, namely she needed to get her hind leg looked at and inspected. He asked about her name and she would sigh. It needed to be established in these lands, clearly. ?To be an Olympus is to be descended from the gods themselves,? she explained. ?You?ll learn our line soon enough,? it was a promise. We come, and we conquer.

I amuse you? She glared at him and shook her head. ?Glad I can be of use,? she snarked. ?Look, if you?re going to insist on harassing me, I guess the least I can do is ask where a healer might be,? she inquired gesturing to her injured leg. She was not so arrogant as to assume she could cure herself of infection; no, she needed somebody to help heal her wound.

 


Syrinx, in his mind, was the perfect king. He utilized self advancement and didn't think twice about considering striking down those that lacked the ability to pay attention. Still, the world was about strength and without it all would perish, for they would not survive with those that truly were stronger. It was not physically tough alone, that needed to be understood, but it was also emotionally. Syrinx had captivated both, but the emotional aspect had been done by disregarding feeling except for a few scarce things. Family was the main exception in his life. Something he truly honoured. "Perhaps...but I could get to know you," the Amenti king had a lot on his mind. There were many things he was capable of.

"I don't know. I don't typically walk around taking what I want. It just comes to me," Syrinx was not a man of much desire besides pleasing what had come before him. When it came down to it, he was simple and basic and didn't really have many things to work for. His family, was truthfully, the only reason he gave a thought to living in the world. He wondered what the afterlife was like, what something like a dream world could bring to him. Peace? Would he truly be peaceful for once in his life? No, likely not. For even if he were dead he would only spend his days doting over his sisters and wishing he could intervene and protect them against what was trying to harm them. Eos, Epiphron, and Chrysanthe. They were his world and he adored them. Far more than any brother should, however. "That's a lot to live up to," but power was power and with her statement a smirk encumbered his features, "But I only hope so," He would love to meet the hellion family.


Syrinx listened to her asking for help, even if she wouldn't call it that...he broke a half-hearted chuckle and stared at her, "there are healers in my kingdom,"

Get to know her? A brow raised at that, as if the mere thought of such a thing were simply ludicrous. She snorted, shaking her head. "What could you possibly want to know? I like the color blue, long walks on the beach, and I'm charming as hell obviously," she snorted. Virgil supposed that she ought to let go of the venom; in her current condition, a fight would not be wise. Alas, her bloodline and her arrogance refused such a proposal. She was the Olympus matriarch, she had to be strong for her people and give a good impression. When her family came, she would need to provide them with power. The debate in her head stood between upholding her stance now, or fighting and potentially ruining good health which could be used to challenge for a pack.

Ear twitched as she listened to him. Well, he sounded like a selfish, arrogant prick. Alas she said nothing, instead adding it to her list of judgments about him, judgments that would be difficult to erase from her mind. Virgil was a stubborn woman, set in opinion and rarely changing. "Maybe you won't hope so once we acquire a throne. Or maybe that just depends on what side of the line you fall," she mused, eyeing the russet toned male evenly. It was an idle threat, if you get in our way we will crush you.

He mentioned having a kingdom, and she sighed. Healers would be necessary. They would be inferior to her oracles, but required all the same."This isn't some twisted pick up line, is it? You'll have to be a lot smoother than that, skippy," she snarked, offering now real answer. Virgil needed the help, she'd asked for it, but she had to convince the last vestiges of herself that refused anything from outsiders.