ERIS AND HISTE

That smell. It was life, weakness and eternity all wrapped up into one singular scent. The fae paused in her musings, taupe tipped nose rising to the air, inhaling deeply. Consciousness snapped, twisted and corrupted into profane beastly thoughts. Movement takes ahold of her painted embodiment; precipitous, precipitate and perfunctory is her advance. The aura is...it's solicitation, everything the sovereign lives for. It's essence is hers, they share everything; live in accordance to the other. Blood. For she is blood, the cardinal to others understanding it's significance to life. She is The Blood Empress, leader of The Asylum and one day leader of The Hills. Damned by the sane, voodooed by witches and qualified in killing. Those who doubted and held malevolence towards her would deteriorate in their own time. Acquiescently, the golden lady pursues the scent. It is compelling her forwards. The Bloodlust within in her ignites, propulsive she is in her impulsive footfalls, for it coils around her spirit. Now inconceivable, all else has been washed away. It is only the scent that endorses The Blood Empress.

The wicked one stood over a deceased deer. An obliterated carcass, naught is left of any distinguishable physiognomy. Beige clefts carry forth the perverse, capricious demigoddess; erratic snickers fester through blood tarnished lips. The ravaged onyx coat catches the scrutiny of azure orbs. Sadistic, barbarous, atrocious and heinous is she. Histe Contempt is the responsiveness most hold towards malicious mare. For blood's consort it is exultation, writhing in atrocious, heinous schemes for the fall of The Jester Queen. Crowned as such by the Nightingale, frankly the derisive name had stuck. "You." Honey casually percolating as it inaugurates; descending your arms, it is luscious, delicious and saccharine yet as you aspire to erase the agglutinative substance, it plucks a single hair one by one.

"I thought you remained in the wilds." For nothing can legitimately accommodate your lupine vitality. "Yet here you are, The Jester Queen calls you her...bitch." Simpering The Empress elegantly inclines her dignified, exquisite and graceful nape, immersing the pure crown of her tongue into the blood. Unmitigated euphoria, elation and exhilaration devours her physique, a devilish grin coats the golden, glorious, auspicious and flourishing face of the stippled monarch. "Different to your usual kills." All the better for me. The Jester Queen was endeavouring to control this sadistic monster, by shackling a lead around Histe's scruff...The Empress conjectured Histe did not appreciate the constricting, compressing, smothering and confining toils of the Jester Queen. "I have a...proposition for you." Now the Empress bathed her entire mouth in the plasma, before rising her oculus to look upon the vicious monstrosity before her. "I'll take off the rope the Jester Queen has tied around your neck." She would only persist if Histe requested to hear more, if the wild woman would be free from the constricting grips of Seele and Midas.

The Asylum's Bounty Hunters.