fernweh wanted a peaceful life, a life that she could call boring. but lion politics ensnared her, and hope for glory lured her at the moment she took her first step into the realms of her aunt's kingdom. she couldn't sit back and be the naive little girl desperate for someone to come to her anymore. avaneira had taken what she wanted from the claws of her uncle and morrigan, too, had forged her own home within the pits of the mountain.

but she wasn't a dragon or a wolf. she was only the thrown-away canary who was raised amongst them. her mother raised her to wear her fangs on her chest, so she wouldn't have to hollow herself out for the sake of someone else. a life that existed for another's sake wasn't a life at all. and fernweh was done trying to fix others when she herself cracked and broken.

i don't want to live like this.

her words slipped out, sounding not quite her own. but as she doused herself in the salt-tainted waters of the lagoon, she realized she didn't care. fernweh must change; she must rise from the pitiful skeletons of the girl she once was and become a woman who can stand beside the shadows of her mother and her aunt. and what better to do when she could build her own empire on the ashes of another?

fernweh vs @Tiamat
for scilla lagoon
move null _{BG — ART — CODE}

"You seem lost, sweetheart," came a sudden voice, tight and testy in its androgynous tenor. Lyric prowled purposefully across that sandbar, their shoulders rolled forward and their muscles tense as they postured before the striped stranger. Her eyes, narrowed with skeptic assessment, roved over her youthful and petite frame. Part of her wanted to laugh at the notion of this one daring to challenge her scarred tank of a queen. But, then again, Lyric had never actually witnessed Tiamat fight.

"Turn back – before my queen sees you. You won't get another warning," Lyric insisted, still placed there as a barrier to further entry into the territory. This was the true blessing of their sand bar – only one way in, only one way out.

---

|| november y9 | five years | SL lead scout | at scilla lagoon | @Fernweh @AW ||
+10 - Intercept a trespasser
+5 - Observe a fight
+5 - Patrol your borders

Lead Scout: +1 luck to all pride-mates when fighting on their pride territory_{BG — ART — CODE}

He would follow the sound. Another challenge. This one coming from a familiar voice and in a familiar place. The warmonger would confess himself torn, torn between cheering for @Fernweh and upset for @Tinúviel. What would become of his friend? Would she return to her husband in the Mire? If so… how would the Mire Sovereign take such changes? The dark brown beast remembered her solemn look, detached from her King and pride at the last challenge (OH), his ex wife was not fairing well with the changes in the past year and it was heavy on his mind and shoulders.

He would approach the small gathering, rolling his shoulders and shaking the salty sea from his body. Ears perked as he caught the last of what was said to Fernweh. He would huff, eyes rolling at the threat.

“Kick her ass, Fernweh.”

He would rumble in a throaty growl, loud enough for them both to hear. He would nod to the disowned Heiress, a bold flash in his eyes. He would support her, if only because he wanted to take the Cove and hey we’re at least on friendly term…which was more than he could say for his relationship with @Tiamat. Gaze would shift to the lead scout, @Lyric, brow quirking upward. His right shoulder was still injured, paw hovering just off the ground to let it rest without bearing any weight. He wasn’t in the mood to fight- his wife had said as much, but he would if he needed it.


—please consult before attacking Ronin—

She hadn't understood all that had happened, or why.

They had been spirited away from the Summit not too long after the call for it had rung out. Like a dutiful daughter, Mirime had remained in their den, wide and watchful eyes watching the den entrance for her mother, her father. But when the frazzled and frantic @Fernweh showed up at their door, she had ushered them out; packed up what little things they had left and descended down the mountain for the last time. At first, Mirime had wondered if Queen Morrigan's opponent had won. But as groups of celebrating Illyrian's came to pass them, such a notion came into doubt.

She still did not understand. Dad was gone, Mom was here; Mirime was hungry.

Quietly, she strolled up to her striped mama as she called out for a pride; such a heavy thing, too, Mirime did not know the implications of. Wide and melancholy green eyes peered up toward her from a safe distance away, yet close enough for her little voice to reach. Mama? She asked, before her lips pressed together, an almost firm pout finishing her question, before she decided to say it aloud. What are we doing here?

Mirime didn't like the smell of salt. She missed the crisp, cold air of the mountains.

---

Mirime would be considered a rogue at this point!

She knew this day would come.

The Gods had blessed them, giving them so much time

An ill feeling settled in her stomach. For all the good that Tiamat and Tinúviel had tried to do for the Lagoon, this was something Tinúviel could not touch; she could not defend them, she could not fight for their home. The duty of that rested solely on Tiamat's shoulders, and any other Queen would have seen absolute power be an equal trade-off for being the one to face their enemies. The Scillan Queen, on the other hand, felt only sick with worry, with guilt.

As she made her way toward the gathering challenge, a thoughtful and thankful look was thrown in the direction of @Lyric, perhaps hopeful that the young challenger would take her advice. But, by the looks of the striped lioness, she were far too in the throes of ambition to give up now (a look that reminded her of the many people who had attended her challenge that day, angry that Tinúviel had gotten her crown without a fight at all). But as a similarly-striped little cub called out from the sidelines, Tinúviel's hope continued to swell, wondering if their small voice would be the one to convince or; perhaps it would only invigorate her, the promise of a good home enough to drive a mother to wrench stranger children from theirs.

Tinúviel could scarcely blame her. She might have done the same, in her shoes. But she could never get to know.

Kick her ass, Fernweh.

@Ronin emerged from the sidelines not long after Tinúviel, his resounding voice causing her heart to hasten in her chest, her breath to catch in her throat. Fernweh? she questioned quietly, her hazel gaze turning back toward the challenger. Her jaws tightened, her pace stopping just shy of the gathering group a few paces away; tears threatened to prick the corners of her eyes. Is he trying to tell me something? she wondered, among many other awful things; had Ronin come to despise her, was he showing his vocal support for Fernweh to spite the Lagoon? Or, perhaps, was this something deeper: Were Fernweh a better woman than her? Would she make a better Queen?

But then—she thought of Luther, of Viridian. Of the evils of men who had proven time and again that good meant nothing, that sides meant everything. That picking and choosing was the only way to get ahead.

She remembered what Alaric had told her. I had to choose a side.

Where is your crown, Ronin? She asks, struggling to stay steeled, to keep her emotions from welling in her throat. I must act like a Queen, now; perfect, without flaw. For the wolves would slip through any crack in her facade and tear asunder the frightened little girl that dwells beneath. But if any were to lay eyes on her, they would see the way her eyes glistened with grief.

She would release it all later, these resounding emotions that threatened to swallow her whole. First, perhaps, by smashing the crown he had given her.

It was the last pride he would wish to hear a challenge for, second only to his own. The Lagoon was newly won, his wife newly crowned, and he could not imagine two more fitting queens. The constant flux of power could be infuriating at times; now was one of those times.

He hastened his steps from the Mire, chuffing for the support of his pride for one of their closest allies. They would come and watch and be on guard for any that dared strike out against the Lagoon.

And when he arrives to hear @Ronin’s support he is at Tinuviel’s side in a flash, his stance decidedly protective. A rough rub of shoulder to her own, a solid presence if she had any need of him. He lets her speak through her grief, though, and feels a swell of pride for the meek woman he had once known, flourishing in to a force to be reckoned with.

“Not so easy, is it?” He cannot help but sharpen his tongue towards the former ruler, for all that he had judged Alarics own shortcomings.

THE THUNDER OF THE DRUMS

table by sentinel / art

It was fate that brought her back to these sands.

Wasn't it?

A challenge for the Lagoon, a place that Ghyslaine half wished to return to but at the moment could not- with her own family resting in the Summit. She sighed, a dark roiling anger in her gut, that the land seemed to be in constant turmoil and that this place would be in danger of being attacked.

She does not know the female who calls the challenge, as she comes to the Lagoon- her eyes seeking out @Tiamat -- looking for her, searching for her. She waits, hoping that the warrior has the strength to win this battle, to remain the Queen of the Lagoon.

When she sees @Alaric standing with the other Queen of the Lagoon-- a female she did not meet during her time here, she would nod to him, before approaching them. "I do not wish to see Tiamat fall here today." She would speak softly- fixing a look to @Ronin, and then laughing. "It's like none of us can ever be on the same side is it?"

How crazy it must be for her to like the female and almost see a friend in the female who would keep her hostage!

Ghyslaine would be a Summit member at this point, that thread is ongoing. She is open to any interactions: fights etc.

ART BY NAME KIM, CODE BY LARS

She is protective and Ronin belongs to her. Nephthys doesn't want to engage in a battle, but she happily will if it means warding off the lions clustered around her husband. A guttural snarl rumbles in her chest as she stalks forward, making it quite clear who she was staking her claim on as she came to rub along his side. Mind your business, queenie. You didn't even earn your crown. That sorry display you put on was laughable. How are you not still embarrassed? Her teeth clacked together as she curled her lip, but her attention snapped to @Alaric with a flash of disappointment. Nephthys glowered at him, coming to stand defensively by @Ronin like he stood against @Tinuviel. You said you wouldn't start anything, Alaric. Her words are clear: her husband comes first and she will not hesitate to pluck the strings between them if he goes against his word.

open up to minor maim

Resting is what the wounded lioness was doing when she heard the call, first a challenge issued to the Lagoon, and then later a call from her king, she hefted herself up, leaving the Mire and crossing the Lagoons sand bar, gritting teeth as the salt water stung her. Her sides heaved with pain as she finally climbed out of the salted water, her eyes coming to rest on the challenger, and then looking around, Tiamat was not here yet, but she spotted Alaric and made her way too him.

She refused to look weak, refused to limp to him, her head held high as she brushed against his side gently, looking to Tinúviel, "Don't let them get to you. Vultures will always strike when opportunity arises, scavengers are disgusting." In her own way, trying to comfort the sovereign, before her attention was turned to Ronin, gaze fixed in a hard glare.

ART COPYRIGHT XXX / CODE COPYRIGHT ANALESE

He isn't surprised how little he cares. Long gone were the days of him enjoying Scilla Lagoon. There were too many memories, bitter and heartbreaking and cruel, to leave him wanting more. Still, he was eager to see another battle and trailed behind @Ghyslaine without quite as much pep in his step. Going anywhere near the lagoon stirred a storm of shitty memories, but he was quite keen on protecting Ghyslaine. Now more than ever he wanted to keep her close, because who the hell knew when her sister would show back up? He barely paid attention to the ruckus between Ronin and Alaric, more intent on surveying for danger than anything else.

code by dee