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<center> <font style="font-familyTongueinyon Script; text-transform:none; font-size:45px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing:2px; text-shadow: #2f5273 1px 1px 5px; color:#2349c8">araignée sorcière</font>
<div style="text-indent: 70px;"><i>I will be your sweetest, sweetest sin</i></center>
Growling do the clouds beckon with their rapturous hymns to plague such blackened skies. Lowly of winds <i>scream</i> of hellbent fury; howling 'cross broken limbed of trees that seemed to have once stood so proudly with dignity. The moon hidden away by the blankets of clouds that masked the darkening skies, while the rain tickles and cleanses nature’s turf, she was masked away as if wishing she were left unseen for unsightly reasons. It was raining, soft weeping it seems like the cries of the angels above shedding their tears of joy, sorrow or anger, whatever the case may be, they had wept.  Lost in the sea of what use to be evergreen and lush forestry, now lay barren and black, lost by fires told of once upon a time and stories shared of a demon sleeping in looming shadows;  there the black widow figure stands, a scarlet gaze hidden away by dark lids. A red hourglass-print tattoos just under her right eye, yet hardly even noticeable this mark being about the size of a pinhead. Listlessly roaming amongst the shadows and spying on those that lingered with the air of suspicion. It’s what she does, and what she had done since just after birth basically. <i>It’s been almost a year… </i> she thinks quietly to herself, she contemplates on the past <i>… Almost as if it were just yesterday, </i> Funny how something so long ago could feel as if it had happened not but minutes prior. Her black skull leans into a nearby charred tree, letting the rain fall against her once neatly groomed physique, soaked now, as the rain pours, and listens to what sounds like the screams of banshees in this blanketing wind.

<font color="#5879a1">"<i>Vous avez arrêté</i>”</font> (<i> You’ve stopped </i>)  An observant, low growl slips from the panther’s lips. Matching red eyes gloom in direction of the black-widow wolf. Rounded ears twitch, listening to moving water in the mixture of mingling rain. Evident there was a river nearby or some kind of body of water. <i> Stagnant</i>  Black lashes moved condescendingly, her scarlet gems peering through her dark lids day-blind eyes looking over in direction just over her shoulder to the familiar bonded to her being -  yet she says nothing to him right away. Scarlet eyes peer open, her head was down at the time, staring apathetically to the ground beneath her. His words spoken through his majesty before she had left home; repeating constantly in the back of her head, that if others had spread news of this event, which it would be likely the enemy would find out if, a spy had not snooped its way to follow her and find out the truths of her tactics. <i>Failure</i>. Constance mutters nonsense inaudibly under her breath, in the native language she had grown up with. The common language spoken by others was something she had trouble speaking, though listened and comprehended it perfectly. The rain sheds a blindfold in a swamp of gray. She sees nothing of interests at the time and figures with her best interest to set off on a walk as the storm begins to approach. Once more, Standing, she shakes off any debris and what mud she can rid her black coat that clung relentlessly to her hind and legs, as well as her tail. She stretches like a feline just waking from a cat-nap. Silently she questions to herself what may have become of her pack. Guiltless of the crimes she had committed back then – whatever they had been, from bloodshed to theft, she regretted <i>nothing.</i>

<i>Splash!</i> Cries the droplets of rain, the plotting movement of her paws through them mud as she moves win the storm, aimlessly wandering nowhere. Scarlet eyes stare head, a stoic expression riddling her elegant features. Long hairs clung to her slender frame, like a walking skeleton – the grim reaper hunting for wandering lost souls that cling onto the earth, denying their lost life. <i>A little longer</i>, she tells herself, wandering aimlessly in the rain, she had gone nowhere in particular, rather odd, as opposed to look for shelter. She wasn’t going to melt! As others seem to think they were made of sugar. No, the rain was a passionate being, pitter-pattering against her soaked bodice, embracing her with a chilled intent little worry of whatever sickness or illness that trapped itself with this rain shower. Montague, watching her this entire time, quite intently, sighs. He read her with such ease, carefully turning over the pages with careful touch not to tear or distort the delicate fragile paper. <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">Combien de temps nous avons voyageant, Montague..?”</font> (<i> How long have we been traveling?</i> ) Constance glances over to him with a curt tilt to her head, a sinister face riddle and lusting for the crave of chaos and dystopia is evident in her eyes. She was bored. He knew this. <font color=5879a1>"<i>Since from whence we stopped, Constance, it’s been a few days.</i>”</font> His accented voice was heavy just as it was on her own tongue but with a felinal purr adding spice and flare to his pantheral lips. His long tail twitched as his muscled legs move and massive paws reaching to the grounds.

 <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">"C'est la vie"</font><font color=5879a1>Montague Speaks</font>  
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Word Count: 864

@Odysseus
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Thick ebony tendrils clung to chiseled muscles, matted with the rain that fell in constant waves. He moved amongst the shadows of the charred forest. The shadows danced at his feet, blending him into the shadows, concealing him even more than his ebony coat already did. Silver eyes stared straight ahead, nostrils flaring with the distance smell of dying fire. The rain soaked the ground, drowned the fires until nothing was left but ash. Perhaps the gods had not forsaken them, only tested their resolve. He couldn't be sure.
<P>
He was not alone in the forest, nostrils quivered with the taste of a womans sweet perfume. Distant voices could be heard like whispers above the low rumble of rain. Ears swiveled atop his crown, straining to catch the noises. His course would change, shifting from the intent to return home to instead explore. Massive paws pressed down in the wet earth, mud squishing up between his toes and clinging to paws. Dual tails curled at his hocks, excess water rolling off his dark fur.
<P>
There she was. A shadow barely visible amongst the dark. But the strike of crimson across her back could not be missed. Nor could the dark feline at her side. His steps would slow to a lazy stroll, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smirk. <font style="color: #2B1313; font-variant: small-caps;"><b>"Hello darlin'."</b></font> He would rumble, silver orbs resting on her feminine curves, though he would not forget about the feline that lingered so close. Muscles bunched as he came to a halt several feet away.
<P>
She was a peculiar looking thing. Subtle curved cloaked in black, marred only by the vibrate red hourglass on her back. Eyes burned red like the fires that had been raging through the lands. Perhaps he could persuade her one way or another to return with him to the forest. She could prove to be useful, if not for her skills than her genetics. His witch had claimed her forest, they tattered on the edge of starting their empire. The thought had soothed his inner demons, kept them quiet and sated for the moment. But with each passing day, he could feel the tug of chains as he desired chaos.

<font style="color: #2B1313; font-variant: small-caps;"><b>"Speech."</b></font> <font style="color: #64110B;"><em>Thoughts.</em></font></div></div>

@Constance
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<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Pinyon+Script' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Great+Vibes' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><font color="#1a3f6d" style="font-family:High Tower Text; font-size:12px; text-shadow: #0056ff 1px 1px 6px; line-height: 15px; word-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:0.5px">

<center> <font style="font-familyTongueinyon Script; text-transform:none; font-size:45px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing:2px; text-shadow: #2f5273 1px 1px 5px; color:#2349c8">araignée sorcière</font>
<div style="text-indent: 70px;"><i>I will be your sweetest, sweetest sin</i></center>
 <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">"Allons-y.”</Font> (<i> Lets go</i>) The woman whispers a seductress growl, her tail flicking with her own anxiety as she starts. The river was nearby, perhaps a drink would be nice, and that and she was at least polite enough or courteous enough to allow Montague a drink as well. She starts her slow gait, the massive panther behind her. Montague watched, intrigued; his <i>mistress</i> basically, as she walked as if she were on a mission. He smirks to himself, bemused by her actions. It was as though she was still on the hunt, the days as a spy when she was home. <i>An assassin</i>. Flashbacks went wild in that delicate skull of her, <i> Mission failed, failure, failure, failure.</i> she hated it. Though it was constantly stated that her mission was a success, for her to be spotted from an enemy pack, there was no success in that. <i> May they be damned. </i> her eyes narrowed with a sinister grin teasing the corners of her lips in just animosity. <font color=5879a1>"We are not alone, Constance.”</font> Montague’s baritone voice pulls the strings, reeling her in back into the beautiful nightmare of reality, whisking her away from the depths of her own chaotic thoughts. Brow would raise with conspicuous curiosity, single ear twitching with conning inquiry dared to be interrupted from tales told once upon a time, ending with dread and disappointment. Black lashes would bat against bloodstone oculus receptors would turn with slow gaze towards the dark sculpted frame of the larger feline. The rain would wash down upon them ever relentless; lightening would web across the dark heavens as thunder still groaned within the clouds.

Feline beast would capture his gaze; <i>slits</i> of crimson would fix steadily upon the looming shadows the graveyard of trees had provided. Long snaking tail would twitch at his heels; narrowing his cold <i>stoic</i>; Constance was soon to follow the cats gaze with perplexed, relaxing glower. Charcoal-black form, constructed with masculine angles would capture either sight of canine and feline. Void and blank - <i>empty</i> canvas of black painted the man without a <i>single</i> décor or marking to tarnish such simplicity. Jutting <i>spikes</i> protruded from his back as if it were his own spine, tearing through tender flesh. A duo of tails lazed behind him; eyes painted in mercury seemed to focus <i>elsewhere</i> but her face-or eyes. <i> Hello, darlin'</i>. Alto-baritones would rumble in greet with what appeared to be a partial-lazed smirk. Panther-beast would shift, fore-limbs stood before the maiden, separating her between the stranger. Large, angular skull lowered to even with his shoulders as he would glare <i>down</i> to the stranger Avelorn. <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">“Bonsoir, monsieur.”</font> (<i>Good evening.</i>) Venomous words would <i>coo</i> malevolently from raven kissers; her frame would lean into her companion so carelessly as she came to a composed sit. Rain still shedding from the evening clouds above, as the pitter-patter splashed lazily in the background. Her accent was <i>thick</i> on her tongue, foreign vocals slithered with serpentine hiss; <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">“Mes yeux sont sur mon visage.”</Font> (<i>My eyes are upon my face.</i>) <i>How loathsome – a womanizer.</i>

Sickly black smirk tugged the corners of her webbed lips. Montague kept close by Constance's side – habitual custom he'd long since grown use to since their bonding.

 <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">"C'est la vie"</font><font color=5879a1>Montague Speaks</font>  
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@Odysseus
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The feline doesnt appear to be pleased with his presence, standing between the ebony prince and unnamed dame. However she turns to greet him, speaking in a tongue unknown to him. His silver gaze returned to her delicate features, a smirk toying with ebon kissers. What keeps such a pretty lady out in the rain? His gaze rested solely on her dark features, curious to know more about her, particularlly since she spoke a tongue he didn't know or understand.
<P>
Rain beat constantly down on his back, pelting his flesh gently, sending more water rolling off his sides. She leaned against her feline, seemingly unfazed by the rain and how it soaked dark fur. He would remain several feet away, not quite willing to risk a muddy brawl in the middle of the night with a big cat. Perhaps another time though. When he took the cats mistress.

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crappy tag D:

@Constance
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<td width=150% valign=top align=center><div align="justify" style="padding-top:0px; padding-left:35px; padding-right: 35px; padding-bottom: 550px;">
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Pinyon+Script' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Great+Vibes' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><font color="#1a3f6d" style="font-family:High Tower Text; font-size:12px; text-shadow: #0056ff 1px 1px 6px; line-height: 15px; word-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:0.5px">

<center> <font style="font-familyTongueinyon Script; text-transform:none; font-size:45px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing:2px; text-shadow: #2f5273 1px 1px 5px; color:#2349c8">araignée sorcière</font>
<div style="text-indent: 70px;"><i>I will be your sweetest, sweetest sin</i></center>
Thunder sounded of war-drums in the distance with their heavy beating, thrumming and drumming into the heavenward skies above. A parade or symphonic instruments to to cascade with their harmonic beat. Lightening would web and streak across the navy-black with wicked animosity. A light show to strike pose in amorous, <i>dangerous</i> extravagance. Rain would shower from dark graying puffs of clouds that billowed through the canvas plains of the sky. Cooling droplets washed down upon her ebony locks with the red hourglass that painted her lower dorsal. Pleasing shiver would roll down her spine, upon such a <i> nimble</i> touch each of raindrop would splash. Even during the daylight hour when the rains would come, despite her <i>burning hate</i> for the fire-star beast to blame for her sight to be diminished, the rains would bring comfort and settling raking nerves. <i> What keeps such a pretty lady out in the rain? </i> question would snake from the strangers jowls, his eyes resting upon her.

Constance remained at Montague's side, her shoulder rolled into his as if the duo were strange lovers. Thankfully that would never be the case, feline and canine had rather <i>odd</i> mutual companion-acquaintanceship. Carmine gems sifted to the spiked Avelorn wolf with a steady gaze. She would delay a response with intention, purposeful out of <i>sheer</i> defiance and for wicked laughs. While others' may not have the slightest indication to comprehend what she may say – inversely, she understood their tongue perfectly. However: Constance struggled <i>speaking</i> the native language – and often would scowl with disdain should she attempt a round. Panther beast would be her eyes when the sun stole her sights and passing word should others' need hinting clues of what spider-witch maiden had to share. However often times she'd prefer to leave them clueless – much to her fulfilling enjoyment. <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">“La pluie apaise ces os errants.”</font> (<i>The rain soothes these wandering bones</i>) Black widow maiden would muse in jesting canter. Venomous coo to slither from serpetine lips <font color=5879a1>“There is pleasure instilled with each droplet.”</font> the feline would reiterate; that his maiden was content with such weather. Chastising glower of bloodstone settled upon the dark statue, little word to share but to merely spectate the duo canines.

 <font style="font-family:Great Vibes; text-transform:none; font-size:18px; line-height: 15px; text-shadow: #0f43ee 1px 1px 6px; color:#2f5273">"C'est la vie"</font><font color=5879a1>Montague Speaks</font>  
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Umg. Sorry for the delay, I had to force this out because you didn't give me much to work with lol.

@Odysseus