Warmth fills her mouth as blood bubbles up from pierced flesh, the sticky liquid splashing across toes as well as her strike is quick and violent — and then suddenly it's over, the midnight lioness tearing from the fight like a coward. She stumbles and nearly falls before she regains her footing enough to dash away, and although the entirety of Ludivine's body thrums with the desire to chase and hunt, she — for the moment — allows @Amara to leave, simply for the sake of family. No one who watched the brief exchange could question who the mighty victors were. A new pecking order shall be instilled.

But it does nothing to quell the bloodthirsty beast inside.

“Lâche!” Coward! she practically snarls the word, blood frothing between fangs as she fixes her gaze on her opponent. “Vous nous demandez si hardiment de nous incliner devant vous, mais vous fuyez au premier signe de trouble?” You so boldly demand us to bow to you, but then flee at the first sign of trouble? Her gaze roves across the band of cannibals that gather, fixing them all within her gaze for a moment before it lands back on the fresh blood painting Amara's body like a tortured canvas — screaming for her to dive in and finish the job. Is that not what their bloodline demanded of them?

As her senses come back to her and she grounds herself in reality once more, two things happen — one, she realizes they have a true living dead amongst them, floating about like an eldritch spectre. And two, @Louve's words finally hit her. It is unfortunate the adrenaline hasn't yet left her system by the time she turns to Louve with a snarl — ironically, the young lioness' own mother's blood painted across Ludivine's face like a grotesque mask.

“And you — who are you to so boldly try and claim my allegiance?” she snarls, much of her vehemence built from the arrogant disrespect given by the elder Dieudonné. “J'ai rendu visite à votre fierté pour trouver de la famille, mais aucun d'entre vous ne m'a cherché depuis. Vous n'êtes rien d'autre que des hypocrites, cherchant allégeance pour quelque chose que vous n'avez pas mérité.” I have visited your pride to find family, yet none of you have sought me out since. You're nothing but hypocrites, seeking allegiance for something you have not earned. Her gaze wanders as hate pulsates through her — built upon her own grandmother's tales of how she'd been ousted from the family for simply being different than them.

Was that how this family was? Demanding the respect of others while showing none of it themselves?

the woman is harried by the would-be twins and léontine purrs around the flesh that fills her jaws. blood sparks across the back of her tongue and her pupils dilate further, chest rumbling with equal parts purr and snarl - but then @Amara is pulling away. she stumbles back, over @Vermier and the discarded rabbit, and nearly falls to the ground.

leo lands on all four feet, blood dripping from her jaws, and dramatically swipes her tongue across her lips and then her barred fangs. while the dark sovereign tries to beat a hasty retreat, the young dieudonne slouches after her, head slung low between her shoulders and gait liquid and slow. she might have continued, had @Ludivine not halted - but at her sister's stillness, she, too, quiets.

but her eyes track the star-flecked woman, a slow smirk crawling across dark lips. though her words are soft, she knows the promise will carry: la prochaine fois que tu me parles, je prendrai ta langue pour mon repas. next time you speak to me, i will take your tongue for my meal. it's less threat than simple observation, saccharine tones threaded with a razor's edge. for a long, long while she doesn't let her gaze wander from amara; she intends to watch, every bit the predator she's built to be, waiting for a single sign of weakness. a moment where she shows even a shred of uncertainty, so that she may finish the job.

ludivine's attention moves, then, to land on the matriarch.

and leo's own head swings to mimic her sister. silently, as the fluffy dieudonne rages, she eases up alongside her and means to press along her side, stalwart and ready. on ne prend pas le trône avec des mots she whispers, head tilted back to murmur in her sister's ear: we do not take the throne with words. her eyes never shift from @Louve, pupils still dilated, countenance still unsteady. allons-nous la laisser ? will we let her? or will someone else be stepping up to fight as the dieudonne are meant to? once more, she swipes her tongue across the remnants of amara's blood.

taking a step forward, away from her sister, she poses a single question: qui tueras-tu pour régner ?

who will you kill to reign?

_{BG — ART — CODE}

ooc: ** means French speaking, too lazy to translate, any snarls he makes is a reaction to the woman snarling amongst each other, just him letting out stress lol Things began to quickly light up, Vermier arrived with a rabbit when someone unknown greedy bitch attempted to lay claim to it. He felt his muscles tighten, oh he was subservient to the Dieudonne woman. Well, the woman that he knew and thus respected, because they had long ago earned that of him. These strangers were just that -- strange. @Amara arrived and Tripfire automatically stands up into a guarding position. Ready, waiting, listening for her to command him. Jaw tightened while he narrowed his gaze at the other two lionesses, but a brief moment of shock overcame his features when he saw the ghostly form of @Kieran. It actually made him do a double take! Maybe he had hit his head... He didn't recall doing so of course. But wasn't that one of the top symptoms of a concussion? A brief scrap broke out and Tripfires lips peeled back in a snarl of annoyance, he was annoyed he hadn't been called into play... @Louve began to speak and he gave his cousin full attention now but refusing to sit down again, he didn't feel like doing so with all this tension in the air. And he suddenly found himself pratically rolling his tongue into the roof of his mouth to prevent it from spilling silver coated insults at these intruders. Claws kneading the earth below to ease his discomfort at self control, this was his time to shine and be a true Dieudonne. And to do that, he would keep his jaw shut unless asked to open it by Amara or Louve. For Tripfire accepted Louve's declartion with ease, it just seemed the logical step really, though he would follow Amara into hell at her very beck and call. "talk"

Art and Code by Cloudy

@Ludivine and @Léontine VS. @Amara FOR dominance
— DEFAULT —

Due to Amara withdrawing, this fight has defaulted.

Ludivine and leotine HAVE WON THE CHALLENGE FOR dominance!

Please allow the challengers to respond to the fight results first. As per the site rules, if 3 days go by without a post from the challenger(s), they can be skipped. Whichever comes first! Any posts made before this will be removed.

Chaos — the scent of blood.

Perhaps he could get used to this. A smirk is offered in @Louve's direction as he spots her eyeing him up, obsidian lips curling into a fashionably criminal grin. He doesn't do or say anything more, content to simply linger like the night denizen that he is. A troll on the borders of a familial war, one that does not touch him directly — but threatens to pull him into it nonetheless.

A perfectly devilish woman crawls up alongside of him, striking in her features — familiar, and safe. As safe as one can get in their family, at least, but he welcomes her presence all the same. A flick of his tail against her ankles acknowledges and welcomes her into the hellish landscape, and a chuckle vibrates through him at her words. How endearing of her to worry about his appetite!

“Ne vous inquiétez pas, j'ai beaucoup mangé,” Worry not, I have feasted plenty, he muses back at @Iseult, for a moment taking in the fine creature standing on the rock before them; the mottled lioness, how he craved more of her. His eyes flicker as he catches sight of a young one trailing after Iseult. My, my, did she finally find a beast worthy of sullying?

“Yours?” he questions his cousin with a smooth grin as he transfers his gaze between her and @Pythios. “Ou, de la nourriture?” Or, food? But their conversation is left for dead as the reunion erupts into chaos. Some fight for food and the need for dominance, while others question about a 'Cassine'. A relative, perhaps? The ghost that appears does not appear to phase the De'Vil, through a trickle of cold races down his spine in agonizing misfortune. The dead can rise, can they?

He'll have to keep that in mind for the future.

But the grandest display comes from the earthen lamb herself. So proudly does she display herself like a little peacock, puffed out and showing off the ferocity of the blood that flows through her veins. Krueger merely watches her with subdued amusement, the snarls of the crowd nearly drowning out her speech. But her words— Ah! What a pretty little thing. It is unfortunate Krueger sought to merely watch the world burn around him.

“Are the Dieudonné not built upon the strength of their women?” he muses aloud with another idle flick of his tail, gaze trained solely to Louve now. “Comment espérez-vous protéger la famille alors que vous ne pouvez même pas défendre les frontières de votre fierté contre un humble vagabond?” How do you expect to protect the family when you couldn't even defend your pride's borders from a lowly vagrant? He sneers the words with vicious satisfaction, amusement flickering in the depths of his hellbound gaze.

All he remembers was her blood pasted on his tongue.

blood we drunk, flesh we ate

It would be cruel (and foolish) to assume that the Dieudonne had solely existed in the realm of Amaryllis, even more naive to believe that the family could not have existed outside of Wolfbron. Their troubles had extended far beyond the misty borders of the island hovel, their own stories writ in stones untouched by Amaryllisian sea.

Iseult pays no allegiance to a pride she does not need to survive. She has fought for them, bled for them, helped rear her brother's children abiding their rules. Abiding Amara's rules. But she is not a Wolfbron lioness. She is Dieudonne.

And aside from Dieudonne, she is De'Vil.

Perhaps this is the tincture of her veins that run red hot with ire as she beholds the Bluffs' Queen impressing her effigy of power in the godless scrape of the Badlands. Crownless in the bitter wastes, impeded by the greaters of a lost branch, her audacity is razed only by the simpering wind of a voice as hollow as a quarry: Comment ça, où est Cassine?

The smooth lines of her expression vexed, the regal weight of her skull swung to observe, and betray reality by, the image of deathly denial. Kieran, withered by dust and tatters, the webbing stretch of his vision clouded with a smothering rancor that the living may never touch. Though she did not know him well, she lamented to see his fury wasted on the timeless chains of purgatorial derail. There was no room for question - though those embers of rage stirred with the thought that it was the Hollows' girl's family that had found his death a retaliatory price for the scuffs their child bore.

@Krueger assured her of his comforts, though his wants reign on their uncertain paths, routed in some feral beholding of the Wolfbron dame before them. But his attention shifted outright, a curious Yours? Or food? slipping through.

She caught @Pythios out of the corner of her eye, stilled to fetter the edges of the great pyre that had begun to burn. She chuckled and sighed, her gaze softened to adoration at the sight of her nephew. A shadow, an earnest pariah; an ear turned to the chaos that unfolded behind her, knowing that she would revel in the glee of its righteousness, but she held to his presence, welcoming with the ease of a warm smile. Baphomè's. Non, pas de nourriture... Viens, précieux. smoothed the low timbre of her voice, her softness framed in the fires of discord taken to the wilds beyond; if only she knew how close those cousins truly were.

Je m'appelle Louve Dieudonné.

Righting herself, she twisted back to the display of vehemence and virtue before her: the writhing mass of the two feral creatures and Amara in tow, a smug Vermier contented with bloodshed. Not that she could fault him. Louve, atop her pedestal of stone and dust, spoke of the disarray that was made of their family, their traditions. A partial truth - Iseult's eyes wandered to the Amaryllisian Dieudonnes that had seemed to forgotten their wrath, their idolatry, compensated by the luxury of a name and shelter.

A new matriarch.

Iseult did a double-take, her brows pulling a heavy stitch over the center of her features, lip drawn high over a fang. Cassine is gone, the former Matriarch, her youth yet shrouded by another come to claim the empty throne. Perhaps at one time she herself would have contested such a claim - unfounded, unwarranted except by the absolute boldness of its declaration, but she had begun to taste the simpering vulnerability that had come with age. Though she would not dare manifest it in words, she would be humbled by its truth.

A flash of darkness caught her eye, watching the diamond-spined @Amara slip from the brutality of the earthen fae. Iseult sneered wider, coming to her feet, rolling the heat from her shoulders as it spilled in waves down her back down into her toes. She had seen the Sovereign in battle once, but this was disappointment at its finest. Lâche! calls after her, as if pulled from her own heart through another throat. @Ludivine's words echo the thundering of her pulse, and her sneer rattled its way into a toothy smirk. Ta mère volé ta lumière, jeune. she called to @Louve, her eyes lit with spritely malice.

Ludivine stepped forward to air her grievances, her concerns touching to chords, but valid nonetheless. Iseult herself had enjoyed not being sought out, not being held to any obligation but that of her own and those closest to her. She did not need a Matriarch to continue following their customs - did not need their love to build her into the monster she was.

Iseult cleared her throat above the bedlam, the lilt of her voice governed with barbarous assurance. C’est un prix payé en sang.

Qui tueras-tu pour régner? @Léontine crowed. Who would she kill indeed? Iseult's chin lifted high, her eyes flicking from cousin to cousin before settling back on Louve's own. There were slim pickings, waiting for who would rise to offer challenge directly. Krueger squares with his own hostility, curious as the context is. But she should not be so surprised that he has already come to harass their comfortable cousins. It only cements the point: Louve would have much to wrestle into order, her work well cut out for her. Yet it was bold enough for her to even attempt, to call the devils out from their holes on unmarked land, to seize an ancient throne from the sand and dust.

Iseult stayed the pool of possibles, and grinned wide in welcome, though quiet. But what need had she for the title? To reign these wildlings? She needed no crown. But if Louve had wanted to exact dues from her, she could take it in fire and blood.

Assurez-vous que c'est ce que vous voulez, she breathed through her teeth, jade eyes shining with a gallows foreboding. Marked in ferocity, her body stretched idly into the halo of hungry Dieudonne, tail curled at her heels. Il n'y à pas de retour en arrière.

French: No, not food... Come, precious. / Your mother steals your light, young one. / This is a price paid in blood. / Be sure this is what you want, there is no turning back.

that was a core of the innocent hate _{BG — ART — CODE}

Chaos is a fickle mistress. At times she dances for Louve, casting flames upon her enemies, but other times it is her own paw that gets burned. Now she feels surrounded, but she does not fear the inferno. Louve embraces it, welcoming it with a grin that hints at her instability.

For when they lunge at her mother she does not fret or fuss but watches instead with hungry eyes, even as her speech trails off. It was what she would have expected; it was what she, too, would have done. They were Dieudonne, they were lioness, and they could take what they wanted and damn the rest.

"Famille," she whispers back to @Elaine, but she is not angry like the others seem to be. Louve is invigorated. Thrilled by the promise of more of their flesh and blood, sipping the intoxicating cocktail of power and insanity. Already there are visions spinning through her mind; she is naive in her thirst.

Too quickly it is over -- too quickly her grin turns to a frown. Amara stumbled away, giving up the little spat before it had even truly begin. Bleeding, bleeding. Drip, drop. Would the marks fade? Louve wondered this as she watched the blood stain the earth, sinking in to the layers of dust and dirt that cover the stone. Would it last for years to come, so that others might know of the blood spilled here?

Ah but she remembers, then, that this was not the blood of a God. Mother was mere mortal and so surely the first rain would wash away all trace of this travesty.

Was that why she did not fight back?

For the first time in her life Louve is disappointed, and the curve of her lips belies this true as she looks to the venom-spitting @Ludivine. Her accusations are not untrue, and the mottled Heiress relents. "Je ne l'ai pas mérité," she admits, but she would not be Louve if she did not add "mais je vais." I have not earned it, but I will. Too bold, perhaps, but she knew no other way. Confidence was her closest companion, it was what got her through each day, and she clings to it now.

Drip.

Amara's blood pulls her focus, shifts it, splinters it. Until Leotine whispers in the shadows. Louve cannot hear the words but oh, she recognizes that there is not acceptance on the other's face. There is no willingness to follow -- and had she expected it, really? Yes; but then she had not thought so many unfamiliar faces would show. For all the mistakes she had made she does not let it crack the visage, fighting to act as though every bit of this was part of the plan.

Drop.

Again her gaze flicks wildly back to the blood that Amara feeds to the earth, unaware that her tongue peeks from between her teeth to swipe across her lips. It is quick, almost imperceptible, and Louve does not realize it. She does not realize that her mouth floods with saliva as she watches the blood fall; she does not see the look of pride on her mother's face because her attention is not on her face. @Krueger recaptures her focus and now a sneer breaks through. "Vous en obtenez un," you get one she spoke cooly despite the twisted expression, "la prochaine fois, j'arracherai ton œil de ta tête et je le mettrai entre mes dents." next time i will pluck your eye from your head and pop it between my teeth.

One pass -- see, she could be a merciful God.

Drip.

The smell is stronger now, isn't it? The coppery tang fills the air and she can all but taste it on her tongue. Louve's claws flex against the ground, an eagerness to sink them in to her enemy and tear straight through to the heart. A desire to finish what was started, to show them all the might of the Dieudonne. But this is not her enemy. @Iseult speaks and her head swings to her, now, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Blood was a currency she knew well, she who had fought in three wars before the age of two. Blood she could do.

"Who will you kill to reign?"
"Be sure this is what you want, there is no turning back."

Drop

Louve turned ever so slowly to face Leotine again, a smile that is sickeningly sweet pasted on her face. Silently checking her defenses while trying so very hard not to betray her intentions. Surely they are there -- surely they can see the lust that has slipped in to her saffron gaze, as her mother's blood pools on the ground. Spurred suddenly in to motion she leaps from her perch, taking a step towards the stranger that challenged her, all while smiling that sickly smile. Until, finally;

"Vous."

--

Then she is a burst of action, chaos incarnate, claws and teeth and coiled muscles. Louve lunges forward in an attempt to close the distance between them quickly, in the blink of an eye. Aiming to rise fast on her hind legs as both forepaws strike out, attempting to sink her claws deep in to each shoulder of the mahogany bitch. Instinct has her tail lashing out to counteract the shift of weight, spreading it as evenly as she can over her back paws as they look for traction on the cracked earth. Her jaws part as her head tips to one side, diving for the damned jugular and attempting to latch her teeth in to it.

Let her bleed out -- let her life be the one that ushers in the new matriarch.

Let Louve be crowned with DEATH.

---

LOUVE vs. @Léontine
for DEATH
one of seven
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 7 + 15 + 10 + 19 + 3 + 2

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 18 + 17 + 4 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 19 + 6 + 7 + 10

OOC: Ludivine is using her master perk as a paladin to take her sister's place in the death match — Take someone's place in a maim or death match without penalty (must intervene in the first round of the fight)

The world blends into nothingness around her as her focus solely remains trained to the one perched on her stony pedestal. A princess with a crooked crown, looking to polish it upon the blood of kin. Her words do nothing but bring a sneer to Ludivine's face, lips curling to reveal fangs made for slaughtering. How dare she act so proud of herself, so eager to prove herself. Ludivine flicks the small tuft of her tail before it curls above her haunches like a flag.

She's silent as @Louve addresses others in the gathering, but their voices blend together into one big sound. No, her focus is on—

Vous. But it's not meant for Ludivine. Though she crows the loudest, she is once more cast aside like trash, discarded without a second thought. No, the yellow eyed demon has eyes only for her sister and not her. Time feels as though it slows down as she watches Louve charge towards her sister with the intent to kill — to slaughter — and all she can hear is— Forgotten. Forgotten. Forgotten. Louve wishes to kill the one that only got here, but continue to ignore the one she's been ignoring once again? And it's her sister—

“Non,” Ludivine whispers, mouth full of fangs,, “ce sera toi”. No, it will be you. Then she charges.

Ludivine unsheathes her claws for traction to grip the rocky ground underneath as she closes the small distance that had been left between her and @Léontine, moving quick like the huntress that she is and hoping to take the element of surprise. She darts around the right side of the mahogany lioness and then, with all four paws left on the ground for speed and momentum, she throws her entire weight forward, attempting to slam into the left side and underbelly of Louve, attempting to throw the lioness off balance.

Shoulders roll forward to help, like a battering ram, and her skull tucks enough to protect the spine. However, simultaneously, she also lunges with her jaws as much as possible in an attempt to rip open Louve's exposed stomach and gut her.

Ludivine vs @Louve
Matriarchy / Death — I of VII

Hits

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 20 + 8 + 18 + 6

Dodges

Rolling 6d20: 7 + 5 + 3 + 2 + 9 + 12

Luck

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 2 + 4 + 3 + 16

It is movement from the corner of her eye that alerts the Heiress, sending rage coursing through her veins. Pathetic that they could not leave this fight alone; pathetic that she must interfere.

Momentum is her enemy, carrying her up from the ground before she can stop herself. All Louve can do is try to negate the rear as quickly as possible, but even then it is too late.

Ludivine collides with her left side, teeth flashing, and just barely does she manage to avoid evisceration. Instead they land a little higher due to her downward momentum, leaving behind ribbons of flesh over Louve's ribs. The collision sends her stumbling to the right, away from the teeth, easing the severity of the bite just enough that she will not bleed out. The pain will be significant but already the blood is rushing in her ears, adrenaline racing through her and setting it aside. Tomorrow she can dwell on it; tomorrow when she wakes as matriarch.

Unwilling to leave her side exposed Louve drops her hindquarters in order to lower her center of balance, claws reaching for grip in the cracked earth as she pivots in an attempt to face her new opponent. The fluffy woman is more familiar than her sister and just as mouthy, and there is a spark of eagerness in the saffron eyes of the Dieudonne princess. As she pivots she pulls her right paw from the ground, toes spread wide and claws fully extended as she attempts to smack them in to the left side of Ludivine's face.

---

LOUVE vs. @Ludivine
for DEATH
two of seven
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 13 + 19 + 10 + 9 + 1 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 14 + 1 + 11 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 8 + 11 + 3 + 2

The rush of adrenaline that comes from a successful hit blooms in her chest — not because of the success, but because of the knowledge she'd saved her sister from this fate. From this monster.

But who was she to judge?

They glare at one another as @Louve falls to the side, and Ludivine bares her bloodied teeth at the woman. But there isn't much of a pause in a battle to the death, and immediately the mottled princess is on the offensive this time. She lunges, toes wide for maximum impact. All of Ludivine's paws are still on the ground and she uses her grip to anchor herself to the ground as she leans slightly backwards, head tilting slightly to the right side to absorb the attack across the left side of her bottom jaw. Talons lacerate and tear flesh — but Ludivine reacts instinctively. A counter attack to try and lessen the damage to her face as she now swivels her skull to the left, jaws attempting to ensnare Louve’s delicate wrist in her grasp.

She’s not done. She needs to punish the other for daring to harm her blood and kin. Right paw lifts, claws deadly weapons attached to each toe, and she attempts to sink them into the inner elbow of Louve’s raised right limb.

Ludivine vs @Louve
Matriarchy / Death — II of VII

Hits

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 18 + 10 + 19 + 13

Dodges

Rolling 6d20: 2 + 9 + 8 + 13 + 19 + 3

Luck

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 17 + 8 + 5 + 6