The sound -- uncertain, unknown -- caused a tremble to erupt across the girl's bones, vibrating through the fibres of her being in a frenzy of wondrous curiosity and a deep, looming feeling of confusion. Delphine did not know which emotion was the strongest as she took large, unrefined steps in the direction of the call, trudging through the snow and along the paths of the bluffs that were becoming more and more familiar to her as time went on.

It was only as she neared that the sound of clattering teeth and feral snarls that her eyes found themselves narrowing, slowly coming to terms with what exactly she was walking into. without hesitation, the girl sought to push her way through the growing crowd, weaving between ankles with her gaze set firmly upon the spectacle unfurling within the centre of it all. all she knew was that she wanted a front row seat to whatever this was -- or maybe she didn't, upon getting a better view of the festivities. Because as she moved past the last pair of legs, vibrant eyes fell upon the battling shapes of her maman and older soeur, prompting her brows to stitch together in what only could be described as perplexity. Thankfully, she was close enough to pick up on the sound of @Faustine's voice, which allowed delphine to finally understand what was happening. But she says nothing, reacts to nothing -- not yet. for now, she would simply watch.

hers is the banshee’s wail: a summons to preface calamity, an invitation carefully-tucked beneath the emblem of the dieudonné. coaxing forth diligent hounds and prying sadists alike from the snow-capped crags of maman’s kingdom — and she is no exception, chomping at the bit to oblige direct orders with hastened stride and teeming curiosity. but as she files into the court with hawkish stares and predatory swagger, so does the metallic tang of blood come to rest within her nares: foreboding and intriguing, all the same.

like the entitled princess she were, cyrene weaves between bodies of gathering spectators on an oblivious trajectory to center-field – gravitating to the familiar presence of @Delphine. and as she encroaches upon her masked sister’s close quarters, the cruel scene of an attempted usurping unfolds before her widened eyes. “non,” is the muted protest she offers, reflexively emitted from jaws, newly-set agape in bewilderment. blood diamonds pop! from their precarious placements upon her golden diadem — a birthright, left to hang in the balance at the mercy of ma matriarche, ma sœur. “est-ce ainsi?” is this the way? she seeks affirmation in the closeness of delphine, expression darkened with concern and lingering reservations as her gaze wavers to and from the fierce amazonians, locked in their ring.

The call sent shivers down the dusty girl's spine, a rare sensation for someone accustomed to distant cries for combat. But this call was unsettlingly close, and it stirred something wicked within her. Ah, yes, the voice, struck a chord within her memory. Her elder sister. As she made her way through the snow, her thoughts swirled with tales of wars and grand battles. Would she finally be able to see one?

Josephine fixed her gaze upon her sisters with amber eyes, joining them in silence. Her gaze surveyed the gathering, ultimately fixating on the brawl. The thrill of witnessing a battle coursed through her veins, though her emotions were shrouded in a shadow as she observed her own mother pitted against her elder sister. She had never contemplated the consequences, the potential fall of her mother from her pride's throne. The tantalizing uncertainty lingered in the air.

The question simmered in her mind. Could Louve triumph over Amara? Her eyes bore into the current heiress, what did she think of this? The air was ripe with anticipation, as she pondered whether another would ruthlessly usurp Louve's position. And what of Josephine? Could she be the dark horse destined to seize power? To take what her mother held for so long?

code by flea, art by irish

icefang

She is awoken by the challenge call, her skull rising groggily as she blinks away her drowsiness. Had an enemy come for Amara's crown or was that someone within their own ranks? She would nudge her sleeping mate beside her before rising to her paws, "@Renozuri there is fighting in the borders," she murmurs aware that he likely heard it clearer than her. "I'll be back," she states before exiting their den and moving towards the direction of the call. Ears prick forward as she arrives and sees the audience gathered. She expects there is no intrusion and her suspicion is confirmed as she gets close enough to see Amara and Louve locked in battle. Interesting. Icefang knew the pair must of been related, but she was unaware of their exact relation. However, she sits amongst the crowd to watch as her thoughts drift to the cubs growing within her belly. She was certain that she was pregnant after noticing the slight roundness that had begun to grow on her. She had been meaning to call a meeting with Amara to share the news, but perhaps it would be Louve she would have to talk to instead.

ART & TABLE BY AURORA

The pines, they often whisper

They whisper what no tongue can tell

Now wasn't that something? By now she'd really gotten used to calls for challenges and other things. She barely even paused in her practice of parkour, merely changed her route. And so she came leaping and racing across the territory. Only when she heard those telltale signs of the fight already having started did she slow down to a more relaxed lope, large paws kicking up dirt and snow.

Others had already arrived, but they weren't of much interest to her in that moment. With a small chuff in greeting, the near colossal girl made her way towards @Icefang ♔ and settled near her.

code by corvus

Ah, what was this? A summoning cry and a challenge in one? He'd become somewhat more accustomed to interesting events occurring during the daylight hours, and interrupting his naturally more nocturnal habits in order to attend. Sébastien had been lightly dozing in the darkened shelter of the small cavern space he'd claimed as his own, roused by the call and then the sound of others moving through the territory.

Already, there were the beginnings of battle as he arrived and found a place among the smallish crowd. Curiosity in his dark gaze, he seated himself win an interested hum. "What is this?" Spoken to the air, to anyone who cared to hear and respond, or to himself if that's how it went. Was this a natural progression of things? A test to see if the the daughter was ready to take the mother's place? Or had Louve grown impatient and moved to seize the crown? As an outsider to the family intricacies, all the man could do was speculate, and wait to see what would happen.

code by corvus

i am the storm / and im coming for you

faustine was restless so she started pacing the brink of the battlefield, careful to keep her eyes upon the two clashing women. she observed the emergence of her young aunts, though she had yet to see more of her siblings come forth. there was no pressure for them, for they should already know the vicious ambition of the dieudonne women.

this time, faustine found her way next to @Sébastien, a man who she remembered to be friendly with her sister lazare. faustine had not spoken to him, so this time, it would be her first. a challenge between mother and daughter she said, to see whether my mama is ready to inherit the pride. there was still pride etched onto faustine's face, her dark eyes gleaming with unabashed joy. her muscles were tightly coiled, body almost shaking from watching the fight before her. it was too bad nobody would demand to fight her.

CODE BY DAANYEN + ART BY HUSH

under the chemtrails 
over the country club

The call is not one she is keen on ignoring.

She arrives too late to see the beginning, to see just who struck first -- mother or grandmother. Truthfully it did not matter, not really. She knows this is the way of her bloodline -- to demand, to take. worth meant less than the strength of the claws used to carve. Louve had proven herself already, surely -- what made her want more?

Where would she go from here?

Dainty little steps carry her forward, pale gaze sweeping across those gathered. Most smell of thr bluffs themselves, even if she does not recongize some of them. A little frown slants her lips, not seeing @Apollinaire in the crowd. Nor bea, for that matter. The only friendly face she sees is @Sébastien and she drifts to his side, like a ghost. Her sister only deserves a quick glance, beyond that her attention is on the fight itself.

c'est un spectacle, it's a show, she murmurs, voice lilting with the language they share. Her muzzle tilts as she looks up to the man, curious; would he enjoy it? c'est toujours un spectacle. it is always a show. her mother, her father.... they are both loathe to do things by halves. Bloody, but pretty -- surely that was the dieudonne way.

code by flea, art by irish

There was a call first, one for the matriarch. It wasn't for him so Valère refocused on the task in front of him. or the lack thereof off...

Yet soon another call would echo from a new voice. A summons, a cry for battle and bloodshed. The yearling stands looking at the pile of plants with a frown for a moment before digging out a pair of Senna sticks. The leaves were mostly dry and some even discolored. But it would still do its job as a wound dressing... right?

Valère arrives eyes growing wide at the sight of the queen matriarch and the high queen fighting. This was not what he had expected. He had expected fighting, violence, and bloodshed, yes. But not between the most powerful of the Dieudonné women themselves. Should he understand this? Should he know what was going on? If so he did not...

Val approached the other gathered lions with a cautious step. If there were enemies among them he'd fight. But so far most of the scents in the air were of the bluffs. So what was going on?

The clay yearlings' eyes scanned the crowd landing on a brown and sandy splotched lioness. She was Dieudonné as far as he could recall. "Mademoiselle" he greeted her as he approached @Lazare carefully placing down the sticks on the ground before returning his pink gaze to the lioness. "Les reines se battent, pourquoi?" The queens fight, why?

Potential xp
Barbarian
+5 Observe a fight (Louve vs Amara)

Medic
+5 Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds

code by corvus, art by wolfsi

It was time.

The patient ones will always triumph over the rash risk-takers.

And he... well, he was the most patient man alive. Years upon years he'd groveled in the feet of his wonderful Queens. Years upon years he'd played the dutiful servant, their eternal wolf-hound. In the meantime, he'd hatched plan upon plan, drafting out his destiny, writing his success. Watching. Waiting.

Louve had been a lucky find. So... young. So malleable. So ripe and full of potential, ready for the taking. He'd latched onto her, curling around her like a sly serpent and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Some truths, some hopeful lies... and yet he believed in her strength. He had believed in her potential to become a Queen that the Dieudonne would remember for generations. She'd become Matriarch with his guidance, and now she will become Queen.

The path to power was always drawn with blood. It was the Dieudonne way to bleed for each title, for each spot in the limelight. After all, the light illuminated them so brightly, so wonderfully... and yet it was even more wonderful when two kin were at their throats. Mother versus daughter - wasn't it just magnificent? Wasn't it so... bittersweet? Oh! He arrives with excitement thrumming in his chest, as if to behold the drama of the century... the fall of a Queen and the rise of the Queen!

He slips past those present to seat himself beside @Lazare and @Faustine. His red eyes shone with anticipation teetering on the edge of madness. "Tu n'es pas excité, ma chérie?" Are you not excited, my sweetling? he cocked his head at Lazare. He heard the lilt of her voice, and yet he was ashamed to admit that she was difficult to read. Difficult and yet mesmerizing, like an abstract work of art. "Ce sera un beau spectacle!" "It will be a beautiful spectacle!" His voice rose above the crowd in a sort of cheer. Beautiful, so beautiful! Watch her rise, then watch me follow suit!

@Valère's presence was mostly unnoticed, but when he heard the boy speak their tongue, Apollinaire's ear flickered his way. He would be remiss if he hadn't noticed the many little boys circling his daughters. His brow lifted curiously. That one, however... was he their blood? "C'est pour voir si notre matriarche est apte à gouverner, mon garçon." "It is to see if our Matriarch is fit to rule as High Sovereign, boy." he smiled pleasantly at the kid, beaming from ear to ear as he glanced back at the fight. Truly, it was Apollinaire who looked more like a boy than Valère.