This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of blood, self-harm, death

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This had been her home. The crashing waves were a first for the cleric--having hailed from a dry expanse where the only shifting was that of red sand. It was a hellish scape, one of delirium, confusion, of synergized chaos. Traveling between the few springs had it's perils, it was not uncommon to lose members of their tribe. The weak, the sick, the elserly--easy enough to leave them to be reclaimed by the rust. This life, her old life, felt so distant now--like far flung stars in the void of midnight skies. But the waves, the waves of the cove spewed energy in a wellspring that was nearly intoxicating. It ungulates with the heavens, an ebb and flow in a delicate sensual dance so in tune with it's place in the world that she could have mistaken it for a hidden deity all of its own. Even more, the current victor of her first home possessed her not unlike the rhythm of the tides. She wanted to see, to know--to bathe in the blood left in the wake of his conquest.

Exhausted from spent fervor the muscles of her body ache--but the soul, oh! the soul is very much alive. Her chest is on fire, burning bright and hot against melting flesh, bone, sinew. Rejuvenated yet saddened: the loss of her first pride drew about emotions she did not quite understand. Sahir had been a beast in his own right, but one could not deny the change. Perhaps, bearing of children had taken its toll on the star king and his wives? Perhaps their gods had called them elsewhere? Ash could not find them in the aftermath, nor did she witness any present at battle.

Her loyalties, though she'd spoken half truths shifted now to the land itself. Should the Najma return there is no doubt the lioness would welcome them with arms wide--yet, for now, it remains only this: they had gone, vanished, as of never existing.

In the dim glow of the battles dusk, she lurked along old yet familiar shadows. They were one entity, masking the fur in with earthy tones of the coves rugged landscape. When at last Ashtoret gains the need to be seen night had befallen the Cove a whole day post. And when she did emerge, she was bathed in pale silver and grey. The sliced paw is wrapped in reeds and seaweed, yarrow pressed into the valley of cut flesh. Though each step brings about pain, it does not register upon her visage. Delicate pads sink in each step, the sand is loose and wet, foam lapping at the shore ravenous with desire to consume the beach. It is here, moon high and ocean hungry that Ashtoret comes to the site of the battle. How marvelous it had been to witness the tearing of flesh, gnashing of teeth. A shiver of excitement at the recollection zaps through the spine, tingling in each toe. Her ghoulish head lowers to the blood stains not yet washed from the salt, and breathes.

It is a sweet, tangy breath of iron and musk. A claw protrudes from a paw, begining to etch in her own runes to the wet sands. A crescent of language, meaning only known to her and her demons. muttered prayer to the Shadow and his Mother: bless it all, engulf it in darkness-may the void reign. It is not proclaimed from mountain tops, no. A small silence is all that comes. Those who must shout for praise were nothing more than imposters.

"King of beasts" she speaks to the wind, "Come speak with me once more--how does it taste after two becomes one?"

code by corvus

ooc: I figured their other thread took place before the challenge so here is a joining one? I hope that's alright? :)

THIS PLACE IS DEATH

let's writhe, let me see you trip. one move that will keep you wet. let's fall in a long sadistic trance

Arrived in the wash of moonlight and the spray of the sea, Gauthier rose from shadow and sparse grass, the crushed husks of shells beaten against the sands. The tide has washed most his blood into its fathomless depths, torn away the wallows of action that once spelled each careful foothold fenced. She had trespassed, despite her familiarity, but her slight went without the rush of aggression.

There, framed in starlight and blood, he had found @Ashtoret at the coming cast of breakers - not unwelcome, but certainly curious company. He paused only steps away. King of beasts... she purred. His eyes traced the pallor fringing the corners of her lips, dripping down the curve of her chin. A once-dust barb of a crown now shade, salt, and blood; he raised his head to the cadence of it, the weight of it.

The smell of ichor was light in the breeze cast from her, inviting, rousing the stead of hunger and rile. His tongue rolled against the sharpness of his fangs. It clung to her like perfume, finer than any flora, despite the visible lack of wounds. Aphrodisial, he breathed deep the metallic tinge, the succulence of iron, a spring of life. His eyes closed to the roar of ocean and the lilt of her voice as it came again, rolling with the rising ebb.

"Delicious." the perusal of his voice, estranged by howling gale, possessed of it new flame, new f i r e. A savagery reignited in the stoked pit of his reaving appetite. "Have you come to taste it as well?"

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she feels the same jolt of excitement as in their last encounter. Truly, @Gauthier is but a demon in the flesh, a creature of the underworld here to wreak what havoc it can. It is the teetering between death and sin that is intoxicating to her---she cannot leave it, she must follow, must observe. What delights this king can bring, one more potentially aligned with the more malicious quirks of her own reserved personality. Not that she disapproved of the Najma regime--no--more like she was enticed by the devil himself and had not the will to tell him no.

'Delicious' he says, punctuated by natures howling fury 'Have you come to taste it as well?'

A gentle swing of her own skull to meet his gaze, a brow peaked to pull her ghoulish markings in new, surprising ways. "Of course" Ashtoret almost purrs in her iconic raspy tones "This place was once my home, when my feet first touched this realm." a smile pulls her blackened lips in the corners at the memory of her time in the passage. "One could say I harbor a fondness for it--and, of course, a curiosity that must be satiated--with you at this helm, one wonders what kind of mayhem awaits? What will Gauthier do, I wonder. Will he build an army, will he build a home for the dark? These are the questions that burden my mind. And so, I am here, offering to be part of it." a tail swish, a pause, a tilt of her head "Though I do not come without bringing something to contribute--I have medicinal and spiritual experience--to which I offer in exchange for living among the sands I once called home" Ashtoret moves then, taking a few steps towards where her den once was, her blue gaze taking in the depth of the old pride. It lands back on the current king, then back to the sea "That is, if you will allow it. she states, before turning her gaze once more time "There is power in King's blood, Gauthier, never forget that"

code by corvus

ooc: sorry for the delay on this!

THIS PLACE IS DEATH

let's writhe, let me see you trip. one move that will keep you wet. let's fall in a long sadistic trance

He breathed deep the scent of blood as prevalent as the salt of the ocean, withal sweeter, a savoring delectation. Curiosity roved those dark places of the mind a dream dare not touch - wherein a feast of her own lingered, an awe of delight, wonder. Was it hers he tasted on the tip of his tongue by the softness of the breeze? Delicious, so replies the shade of night, starlight ripped from its fabric.

It is a pleasant surprise to discover that the Cove was already home to her heart, bound to the earth by her own loyalties. Fortunes abound so it seemed - even without a confession to her talents he believed her aptitude for purpose and want, inspired alone by their first impression. This one yields no lesser results. Her questions are his own, as if echoed from the far chambers of the mind; what is to be done? What is to be made?

Ruin. Appetite. Delight.

Her requests are simple, and her exchanges well worth. A medic was going to be necessary for the fortitude of what was to come, and he would not doubt her faculties. "I will," he purred, the pocked mark of a grin spread wide over his features, darkened with a black contentment. He turned with her as she waded to the stead of ocean-rocked grottoes, already learned to the Caladanian earth. "The pride will value your wisdom." Where he came from, șamans were sacred, their sagacity regarded with doubtless favor. @Ashtoret would be no different. "Tend to our wounds, break our fevers, and we will be sure you are well compensated."

There is a sense of welcome that washes over the priestess in a way that few understand. To an outsider, their exchange might have seemed uncomfortable, tinged with anxieties and fear of the unknown. The air around them was palatable, and this is the adrenaline that keeps her returning. She wonders how wise it is to converse with the devil, but here she stands--and here he accepts. The self imposed exile at its finale, wherein the paws that have wandered far now find their way to this home. It is not her original, not the land of her birth, yet it is distinctlyhers all the same. She wonders, if it is the same for all who enter the lands of Amaryllis.

Ashtoret cannot help but return the same expression, though perhaps more subtle than his own. A smile pulls the corners of her khol colored lips, and she dips her head in fealty. "My talents are yours, my King she states, poignantly with the words tapering off in some half formed chortle. "Should you need assistance with any of your own, I shall be in my den." Ash informs, beginning to make her way towards the small hovel she once haunted. Though her position in the Cove had been little other than a warm body, the witch had kept small pockets of her own remedies--used for ritual more than medicine--yet this new role would require more than a small bundle of sage. "There is much to do, I doubt my coffers have been left untouched by the sea's wrath"

code by corvus

@Gauthier

THIS PLACE IS DEATH

let's writhe, let me see you trip. one move that will keep you wet. let's fall in a long sadistic trance

Consumed by the quietude and the stillness risen with the tense of promise, that distant grasp of eventual treasures, what cosmic delights swell and burst just at the brush of touch. Gauthier does not ask Ashtoret if she feels it, the hum of the earth and the roar of the water, the weight of the air. Some comfort is born between one word and the next, dragged into existence by a breath, a pulse. Even if her god was not his own, all would be made by the same end, folded in the same dirt or carried out to sea, out into the starlit depths of the nether. He would taste of immortality, and though she may not draw it to her own lips, she would find the mercy in it.

She would be there, after all, seeing it through. Mending the wounds of wars, cauterizing the emptiness between glories.

Her acceptance lacks hesitation. It is refreshing to know that there is another flicker of belief, loyalty - her air is charged with it. Gauthier drew a deep breath of sea and iron, nodding to the slink of her form as it stepped away to the brush of coastal dark, shrouded by the rocky juts. The ocean had taken much with it - crown and cache all - and there was little but remnants that remained of anything, beside shards, shells, and brined bones picked clean by the gulls and buzzards. But there may have been more that he missed that @Ashtoret was wise to, hidden troves he hadn't tested.

"I hope the sea has been kind to leave your belongings. I will let you be - and if you need anything of us, do seek us out." Born into the throes of battle, he knew the typical pain relievers, wound-clotters, mild wisdom as to temporary means. But she would know best, and he would not be so arrogant as to assume it was not his purpose to learn as well. The pride would be useless without connection, communication.

Pleased with the new addition, he would let her tend to her den with privacy - and made to the rest of the borders to repair the damages cost by the tides.

exit? unless stopped for anything. <3 didn't know if you wanted to taper this off and we can have another once she's in.

She stops and lets out a chuckle for a moment, but nods. "Let us hope indeed." Ashtoret gives a polite nod after his approval and begins to once more make her leave. It felt right, being back here in this place after so long. Here is where she could do the most, in her humble opinion. And of course, watch the king of beasts himself as he seeks to raze the world around them. She smirks, and considers the supplies she may need to venture out to find once more: Willow, poppy, seaweed in abundance, driftwood and salt...the list could go on.

---exit

code by corvus

@Gauthier yup! I'm good with that.