illynx,

Enough time had passed with no action, no whisper of the familiar scent that she had waited to come with her promise of terrible things. Surely, some negative had happened; members of her herd were missing, but that was all a part of a normal day in her life as she had come to know it. Too numerous were the enemies of her kin for there not to be mild disturbances in the stillness of the lake, she herself holding many to her name and quite aware that consequences would eventually come her way for all that she had broken and maimed. The same held true for her enemies, the Dragon Heart and her foolish Qian, the hornless smut wandering the earth, and the Skull Faced bitch that had ruined her hillside and fled into the night, no match for her even before the Lord of Storms had blessed her for her trials as a creature of darkness.

The days of being a soldier blindly groping for the guidance of others was over. The time for action had been born, and she had made her preparations to travel south in search of the woman who had begun to fester and ache within her chest the longer the golden wench had attempted to suppress her agitation with the stupid horse’s impudence.

First, she had told her corporals where she was going; it seemed only wise to tell her kin that she was off to wage battle against a known enemy to their people, so they could come look for her should she take too long to return. It was not that she had no faith in her ability to defeat the foolish Confutatis should they face each other alone; she simply had no faith in the notion that it would be such a fair contest, either.

Then, it was only a matter of making the walk.

She arrived to her favored battlefield, the blood toned flowers with their spine covered bodies decimated, for the most part, by the wraiths that had savaged the realm. She wonders for only a moment if she was part of the mayhem that overtook this place, but does not dwell on it long; after all, the memories were still vague, and too sharp for her to enjoy their presence.

Hoping that fate would do the rest of the planning for her, the Lady of the Basin squares her frame off and stares sharply across the horizon, voice shrewd and commanding as it shouts out a wretched name into the afternoon.

”Confutatis!” she beckons, ”Your Queen calls you!”

[ Setting: Thistle Meadow, mid-afternoon, mostly clear skies with a light breeze, ground is heavily saturated with partially melted snow and slush.

Hybridized System, 3 posts + closing defense. No time limits unless Wanda specifies them.

Stat + Rolls

OOC: You can go ahead and attack this next post or we can play a little bit first. <3 Either is fine by me. ]

intending to burn - pretending to fight it
everyone learns faster on fire

illynx,

The wind brings a new scent to the meadow, the golden queen’s head rising to find the wretched figure she has summoned to her arriving to the call. For now, it seems she is alone; no other impure stench writhes through the air to brush her muzzle and the silhouette that approaches is solitary and familiar, bringing memories like flashes of lightning to her of a rain soaked evening, a torrential river of moving stones beneath their flailing hooves. There were no such tricks the skull-faced whore could pull here, with only the rivers standing behind the Lady as she waits to provide any nature based offense. They are far from the pristine elegance of her vale.

The bitch seems to have gathered one of her own, Illynx takes note of as Confutatis arrives into clarity, a dark glare shot towards the fox draped along unworthy shoulders as she takes in the words of her inferior. As she handles most misplaced insults, the woman finds herself quaking with laughter before the scarred horse can manage her final question, bright beads of tears building in the corner of her bemused eyes. How little this wretched creature knows of her, for she has no sons and keeps no lovers, her body as pristine as it had been on the day of her birth.

She was no whore, and she knew that women so quick to call others such things were only painting the mirror displaying their own features black.

”Now, now, dear,” she manages once her laughter has died, her words airy and light under the effects of her rippling amusement, ”one with a spine curved from a child of their own should not toss empty insults at a queen who has not soiled herself with unworthy seeds. No man has tamed me, darling.” Her smile is sharp and wolfish, her dark tail striking half halfheartedly at her right flank as she pauses and luridly grins at her opponent, quite enjoying the game of being called things she was not. Of all insults, a whore? Why not a racist, foolish cow, a murderous and sociopathic fiend born from the loins of a narwhal?

She had much she could teach skull face, if she could be bothered to try.

”I’ve called you here to finish our last melee,” she says, still smiling as if they were enjoying a cup of tea over a plate of sugar cookies, ”to teach you of your place… beneath me.” She giggles again, tossing dark locks from her eyes which twinkle with mockery towards the subject of her icy words. ”You ran away before I completed my lesson. Some Warlord's Daughter you proved to be.”

0/3 : 454 words

intending to burn - pretending to fight it
everyone learns faster on fire