Full Version: Can't escape Fate
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The moon cast a silver glow across the swamp, the air heavy with the smell of water and decay. She didn't really care for the area but she was exploring these new land, seeing just what this place had to offer. She moved with silence and the grace of a queen. She may no longer sit on a throne, but a crown simply did not fall from her skull. Paws sank into the muddy ground, mud caking her silver fur. Her tail swayed at her hocks, skull slightly elevated above her shoulders. Ears twitched restlessly, her coral game scanning the swamp. The smell of a pack drifted faintly past her nose, suggesting that she was nearing pack lands. Surely there were no packs that posed any threat, she had yet to even meet a wolf. 
Already she was forming plans on how she was going to get off this god forsaken land and move her children someplace far more suitable. She had not spoken to Kylar since she first saw him, nor did she really want to. The fallen Queen was more than happy to spend some time alone, exploring this place and seeing just what it had to offer. 
<b>[ ooc</b> set before her thread w/ody! <b>]</b>

<div align="center"><div style="width: 498px; border: 1px solid #ffffff; background-image: url(''); background-position: bottom center; background-color: #273c48; background-repeat: no-repeat;"><div style="padding-left: 30px; padding-right: 30px; padding-bottom: 525px; padding-top: 30px;"><div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; color: #dedcdc; letter-spacing: .5px; text-align: justify;">internal <b>CALAMITY ;;</b> how it vehemently <i>clasps</i> and governs the mind of the disgruntled. tedium an impenetrable and inexorable shroud that garners the phantom’s discontent while she lingers within the hierarchy of another ----- lack of the queenly regalia she had grown more than acquainted with within a former life and reign. the monotony and inferiority of pack life <b>{</b> <i>even within the realm of her own progeny, of whose sovereignty she had inspired</i> <b>}</b> a prominent source of her escalating aggravation and desire to temporarily <u>withdraw</u> from nekros’ provinces. her looming presence extracted from its verdant confines in favor of dismal and prospectively <b><i>perilous</i></b> marshes with the intent to transfer her attentions elsewhere from the malaise that endeavors to <i>consume</i> her. robust limbs embellished in grungy stockings of grime and muck as she wades through murky swampland with inherent predatory finesse. her mandible slackened from its counterpart as heated breath faintly teases the backs of slavering incisors -- unslaked and ravenous.

and yet, it is not the saccharine fragrance of <i>BLOOD</i> that whets the ghoul’s covetous palate. rather, pupils dilate with avarice as a familiar physique <b>{</b> nubile, yet <b><i>rugged</i> }</b> encumbers the tyrant’s vision and elicits wry amusement that physically  manifests in the form of a crooked <u>grin</u>. curiosity an unobtrusive ache lingering within the depths of her psyche as she fleetingly contemplates the why and the <i>how</i> of their untimely reunion. <font color=a16f6f>“<b><i>oh</i></b>, we were written in the stars<b><i>!</i></b>”</font> the phantom unveils her looming entity with feigned euphoria and enthusiasm as elongated strides devour the space separating tyrant from queen. celestial lenses retaining frigidity in spite of the fervent emotion threatening to betray her <b>{</b> <i>immaculately</i> <b>}</b> impassive guise as diligent pupils hover upon the coral gaze of her former ally -- attention entirely fixated. for the wraith has yet to experience a dull encounter with the <s>dethroned</s> arcanum sovereign, and she can only presume this will be no different from the former.
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Her voice was achingly familiar, pulling charcoal lips up into a smirk. Coral gaze cut towards the ivory tyrant, a brow lifting as a low chuckle spilled from tainted lips. <b>"It would seem so."</b> She watched as the fallen tyrant approached, knowing the woman well enough not to be fooled by her false enthusiasm. She was not capable of such an emotion. The silver queen pivots in hopes of facing the woman head on, though she refused to sit in the mud that clung so desperately to her paws. <b>"What are the chances of us ending up in the same place again."</b> She mused out loud, the question entirely rhetoric as she soaked in the womans new appearance. A faint glow emanated from the tyrant as well as her bodice being translucent. Coral pools swept the rest of her robust features in search of anything else that might be faintly different from the woman since last seeing her. It seemed as though this place took a strange affect on the inhabitants. 
Nostrils flared, inhaling the faint pack scent that clung to ivory fur. <B>"You have a crown again?"</b> She inquired a faint tip of her crown, ears tipping forward with interest. If she had learned anything it was that the tyrant was more than capable of taking a crown, whether or not she kept it was the question. A step was taken, seeking to bring them closer together. If the woman before her had taken a pack, then this place might actually be worthy of staying in, might be worth raising her family and living out the rest of her life. So long as this place wasn't filled with self righteous pussies that cared only for peace and happiness.