[[absence post 3/5, set directly after this one; marked private to keep it from blowing up with randoms but sil/ludi can call others in if desired]]

This was where it could all fall apart.

From a distance, he observed, hidden in the brush, a silent statue. They had bowed to Ludivine's will at the aborted challenge for the bluffs, which was why he'd decided to approach her instead of Louve. Ryker hoped there was some sense in the woman, and that he wouldn't be attacked before he could speak his piece.

The sun dipped toward the horizon, casting deep shadows, and he did quietly take a moment to appreciate the jungle itself. The thought that he'd miss it crossed his mind, but was quickly chased away with silent amusement. The dead couldn't really miss anything could they.

Finally he sighed, and stepped forward, calmly covering the yards that had separated him from the Firnen border - though pausing again a good ten feet from it. He kept his stance and general body language relaxed and non-aggressive, though remained on high alert for someone to come charging out of the brush and toward his throat before he could get a word in.

The call to summon @Ludivine to the borders was respectful; he really had liked the Dieudonné, and it seemed something of a shame this particular branch had made such a piss-poor first impression. Ah well. Couldn't do anything about that now.

Ryker wouldn't waste precious time. At the first hint of movement, or the first sign that she was within earshot he'd speak, voice calm and neutral, "Before you attack, I have a proposition for you."

The familiar voice is one she's been expecting ever since she stole the man's crown, but his call doesn't have the sharp bite of a challenge — it's merely... A request? For an audience? For a moment she can't believe her ears; the audacity of him! Was she not clear the last time she saw his face what would happen should they cross paths once more? A fire stokes like an angry beast in her gut and she rises from her deathly slumber, eyes twisting to gaze at the mass of bulk next to her. Ludivine's nose reaches out to touch @Gauthier's shoulder, to rouse him along with her; their children would be safe for now, but should blood be shed, she wished him there.

Whether the touch is enough to rouse him or not, she doesn't linger to find out. She doesn't sneak nor slither her way towards the borders — she makes a show of her approach instead. Very much unlike their first meeting, when @Ryker had materialized from the shadows with the viciousness of a ruler defending his claim. But she doesn't hide. She throws herself forward with the brazen ferocity of a warrior Queen, lips peeled to reveal killing incisors.

Let him meet his fate.

Yet he has the audacity to call upon her first as soon as she emerges from the brush — to halt her in her approach and claim he has a proposition for her. How bold of him! Her lips curled that much further upwards.

“What part of 'kill on sight' do you not understand?” she snarls as she draws ever closer to him, fluffy tail lashing angrily against her thighs. She can still taste him — smell his blood splashed on the forest ground. Oh, how she craves it once more. “Or are you merely here to test my resolve?” Surely her dealings with Haider had proved she wasn't a liar.

ART BY SCARF — CODE BY SILH

"Honestly? The part where it involves my family, who had no idea what I was going to do beforehand." Ears twitched forward as she emerged, already aggressive. That familiar disdain on her face. Bit predictable. Ryker kept his expression, posture, everything, neutral. "I got quite the earful from my wife." Probably lucky she hadn't also beat the shit out of him; he would have deserved it, going off on impulse like that with so much at stake.

He watched her, because he'd be stupid not to. "I'm here to...strike a deal, I guess. The Dieudonné are lions of their word, aren't they? You have you own sense of honor." At least, that was the impression he'd gotten from living among the Bluffs group for so long. @Ludivine, too, had seemed to be true to her word in the treatment of his son. Lucky the boy had managed to slip free of Amaryllis as a whole, he supposed.

Ultimately, he figured he had very little to lose here. They would continue to hunt him, until either he was dead, or he'd killed every single one who was willing to come after him. Which...well, he could probably deal with that. Ryker had never feared death and it seemed stupid to start now, of all times. What he couldn't accept, was the idea they'd hunt down those who had no part in his mistake. "The Wolfbron challenge...I acted alone, on impulse, with no prior planning. I should be the only one to pay for it." Here was the first twitch of his tail, the first deeper breath, as if steeling himself for whatever might come next. "So here's my proposition. Cancel the kill on sight order for the rest of my family, who had no knowledge of or part in the challenge, and I'll surrender here, tonight. My only other request is that my skull goes to them...we all have our family traditions, don't we?" Maybe it wasn't one he'd explicitly explained, but he hadn't ever really expected to be in this kind of situation while he, first, had cubs and, second, while they were still young.

"If you're feeling at all generous, my wife might also appreciate my pelt." Or she might absolutely hate it? Actually he wasn't too sure about that but it only seemed fair she get a special souvenir? "You can do what you want with the rest." What did he care if he ended up their dinner? Wasn't like he'd be using all his meat and innards and whatever after things were all said and done, would he.

midnight mass
a crimson pool so warm and deep
lulls me to an endless sleep

He is alert before Ludivine can even care to touch him, his heart quickened to fury. The mottled bridge of his nose wrinkled as his eyes followed her leave from the den and he worked himself through the tangle of their cubs. The nature of the call was vexing, and for a moment he considered that Apollinaire may have jostled the Dantanian’s mind into disarray. Of all places to come knocking, he had chosen the worst door. But if it was of a vengeful nature, wouldn’t he have come closer? Wouldn’t he have snuck his paws into that arena that shared his blood, willing to muck it with more? Instead he’d arrived with a beckoning in the out-reaching distance as any average visitor may, those visitors without the promise of death on their heads.

The unraveling sense of it did not quell his anger. The matter of idiocy or audacity didn’t lessen the strain. Either quality of this caliber was a blight as far as he was concerned, and too inexcusable to waste efforts on mincing the details. His curiosity waned after the disappointing stint in Wolfbron, and now snapped to a dim inexistence in the nature of a man waltzing to the threshold clutched by those he himself once boisterously condemned for doing him the favor of properly disciplining his child. It was the least they could do, after all, given that there had been much worse that could have been done, especially when the other two blots of his spawn found it wise to also test the measures of their patience.

Here, another test reared its head. Ludivine was lost to the wooded overgrowth of the jungle flora, but Gauthier was not intending to fall behind so far. He would, of course, allow her the honors – such was deserved. The severity of the spat was shared between the sisters and he had little play in the game but to hope that there were scraps.

What he met with however was the sound of chatter instead of the warranted bone-breaking, flesh-rendering, meat grinder fantasia of a bloodbath. He halted just at the break of trees, lips curled over the glint of his teeth as he caught the tail end of his wife’s assurance of what was a terrible plan. What resolve she spoke of was a rare beast with a fleeting fancy; her temper was validated, its consequences dire. The fact that her restraint leaned into the agreeable passage of conversation this show of lunacy was a brand of mercy he was vastly unused to. That she didn’t tear Ryker limb from limb without a second thought was staggeringly unexpected.

Firnen’s new rulers were not idle in their violence. Sympathy was granted to those who abided the stingy edge of the terra where the rainforest met the jungle slope, but for a being that threatened not limb but life rather haphazardly, this small and potentially temporary bridge of hesitation was a grace not to be taken lightly. Gauthier stilled reluctantly, his eyes narrowed on @Ryker as he spoke his peace and more.

His mention of his family’s involvement in the death order was one that drew a low brow, unable to reflect on a moment in which the weight ever shifted on them for his own insolence. Their children were left to wander the continent unscathed after all, though he didn’t doubt that Leontine hadn’t rested her grudge for Ryker’s outspoken wife. All in all, they hadn’t bothered to hunt any of the Dantanians while they had larger cares to tend to. What Wolfbron chose to do with their free time was a mystery too far on the other side of the world to bother investigating.

The rest that followed transformed one look of confusion into another, and another. One moment Gauthier would argue that they promised to remove Ryker’s head alone, and in the other he laced his jaws shut, turning a smooth glance to @Ludivine. It was sweeter this way. Even if Louve had announced some otherwise device of a kill-order on the rest of the Dantanians that Ludivine herself was not aware of, it was best not to linger on the miniscule details when the prey was basking in the limelight on a silver platter. The ghost of a grin twitched ever slightly at the corner of his lips.

It was a deal with these devils he was making after all, not Louve. Who was he to argue the fine print from another hand?

It was beautiful. Poetic.

He flicked away the impending humor of the situation with a swift snap of an ear and looked back to Ryker. It was enough that they couldn’t drop his skull to their own cubs to use as a chew toy, but the request that they also give up his mangled hide to his malapert wife was a reach. After all, if someone dropped Ludivine’s pelt on his doorstep there may be more than grievous words to be shared. On the matter, And if your family retaliates… Well, the rest was rhetoric.

_{BG — ART — CODE}

The demon King isn't far behind, his presence lacking for but a second before she can feel his warmth join her alongside the border. A reassuring presence, but one that also knew to keep out of her warpath should things turn ugly — no, when things turn ugly. The cannibal monarch acknowledges her mate's presence with a heated look, but it is the beast before them that draws and captures her attention for the time being. It's perhaps a surprise she doesn't just launch herself at the other and get it over with. A quick and bloody death; let his blood bathe the rainforest's floor yet again, like a grotesque baptism over her rule. But it is curiosity that wins over wrath.

The need to figure out what kind of game he's trying to play.

She remains so quiet as @Ryker begins to speak, his honeyed words doing nothing to quell the beast within that claws and brays in disgust over not just ripping him limb from limb. A soft laugh leaves her at the brute's comment about her family having a sense of honour — oh, how wrong he is! Perhaps he believes it to be true from the weak lineage that ruled Amaryllis for so long, but from her side... From the mixed blood that flows through her veins, she has no honour. Or at least, no honour that couldn't be swayed by the desire to rip, and tear, and devour souls. She herself keeps to her word so long as it benefits her, that is true, but it is not because of her bloodline that she does so. It is merely because of who she is as an individual.

But still she remains silent as he talks about the Wolfbron challenge — his fateful mistake. How he wants to protect his family, to keep them safe... And then the most surprising of all: he offers himself to her on a pyre. Like a sacrifice — is it his ugly desire to make himself a martyr? It's almost laughable really, after how much pride he had shown in himself and his family, to now sell his soul to a literal devil. Oh, how far he's fallen.

But like any devil, she's tempted.

Her ears twitches as @Gauthier speaks first — even though his words trail off, his meaning is very clear: a promise between the two of them, shed in blood and death, will only stand so long as Ryker's family keeps to the agreement as well. Their past mistakes prove that might be difficult. But can she really blame him? Had she not been the first to throw herself in front of the firing line for her own sister? To die by Louve's jaws, just so that the innocent would not meet the same fate?

“For what it's worth,” she muses, sickeningly sweet, “I kept my word in regards to your son. I offered him a choice — leave and be free, or join me and become something great.” A moment of pause— “He chose to stay.” At least at the Wolfbron challenge, he had already earned himself a place in the pride... Why he chose to flee after, she would never understand. She tells Ryker now not as a means to comfort the Dantanian, but merely to back up her next words.

“Your life in exchange for your family's — a pact bound by death. Once I have your head, I will not touch hide nor hair on the rest of your family. However, mark my words: this deal only stands so long as your kin doesn't retaliate. Should they choose to cause trouble in any way, I will show them the true honour of a Dieudonné,” she snarls, teeth flashing as lips drawn back against her gums, “in excruciating detail.”

Can he trust his family to stay away? To make sure his death isn't in vain?

ART BY SCARF — CODE BY SILH

Had his family been explicitly threatened at the challenge? Perhaps not. But he wasn't stupid. The more feral of the ruling trio had already maimed one of his sons for a far more frivolous reason, and he expected many of them to look for any excuse at all to taste a piece of himself, or his family. So he'd really rather they be specifically off-limits. He was going to die at their claws eventually, anyway, that was just the truth of statistics. He was one standing against an unknown number, and they apparently had the power of resurrection on their side according to Lucifer.

He glanced to @Gauthier as he arrived - if things had gone differently over the years, they might have been friends. But time had seen them drift down far too different paths to stand there reminiscing about time spent in the same pride, or as momentary allies at the heads of their own kingdoms. But the veiled suspicion in both of them was an almost funny sort of reminder of how few really knew anything about him at all. So many only saw the chaotic, violent, beast and nothing else that lay deeper.

@Ludivine had, indeed, kept her word at least once. "You did. And he did." Until he didn't. Haider had gone far from Amaryllis, in search of family he never would have known otherwise. He wouldn't bother to enlighten them to the order given to dark boy as to how to spend his time among them. "The rest have been warned against revenge." The only one he wasn't sure about was his wife, but he'd already planned for her reaction. At least the initial one, he hoped once she got past the first shock that she might calm and clear her head and find a better strategy than charging after vengeance.

He'd told Haider, at the challenge, that he would die for them if he had to. He just hadn't really expected it to be so soon.

It's—
Bittersweet.
She had expected more from the lion standing before her. A battle of the ages to reclaim his broken crown. Since the day she stole the throne and placed its crooked symbol of sovereignty atop her head, she expected him to come back blazing with a thirst for blood and vengeance. His own child she'd ravaged to make a point — to make his loss a bittersweet moment. Yet day after day, patrolling the borders and seeking out his scent, it just... Never came. She'd been left howling into the winds without a foe to capture her attention. The only move he ever made had been against her family — not even enough respect to come for her directly. It bothered her.

Bothers her still. Creeps beneath her skin and chills her veins.

Now @Ryker returns — not to reclaim his throne, but to die upon its mantle. To have his blood once more christen her reign and proclaim her the ruler of the rainforest once and for all. All for the sake of keeping his own family safe. To some it might even be considered noble — but it does nothing to dissuade the growing hunger raging in the cannibal monarch's belly. It cries for the taste of lion, even if it won't be a meal earned through righteous means. Through battle, like a true warrior — no, he sacrifices himself like a martyr instead and it's as nauseating as it is cunning.

“Then it is done. Your death shall be their shield.
Repose en paix.”
Bittersweet. She gives him no further chance to change his mind. The fury of a monster — of a devil — throws itself forward to the man that could have been her greatest foe. Jowls spread wide and attempt to latch themselves onto his face; to cover his nose and mouth entirely and suffocate the life out of him. Both her paws reach forward in the form of a grotesque hug, claws spread wide and seeking out the scars she'd caused almost a year ago in an attempt to rip them wide once more — to let him bleed upon the ground.

May you rest in peace.

ART BY SCARF — CODE BY SILH

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of blood and death if you've been stalking and haven't figured out that was inevitable lmao

Ryker had never feared death. One could argue he'd chased it all his life, actually. Seeing even his third year was an accomplishment he'd never been certain he'd achieve, and so the way he saw it, he'd been living on borrowed time for years now. Testing fate with each breath. Would it have been better to go in battle as he'd expected? Maybe. But this, he hoped, would not be in vain. At least, at the end, he could say his death had a purpose.

Seven was a good number.

He'd come all this way, put in all the effort, and with the knowledge there would be no chance of simply walking away. If an agreement had not been reached, he was sure there would have been a fight - and he still may have died. But he'd been given some small glimmer of hope that she might keep her word, that his family may remain safe. And, anyway, they would have killed him eventually. Best to go on his own terms.

A nod, a fraction of a motion as she spoke, and then she was in - on - his face. The small warning of her words and seeing her movement was enough to resist the instinctual urge to inhale in surprise, to pull back, to flee. Ears snapped back automatically as her claws found his neck, brow furrowing and tail lashing once at the searing sensation of flesh parting in a way even the deepest parts of his mind recognized as a mortal blow.

He couldn't smell it, with her mouth wrapped around his nose, or see it, with his head mostly fixed in place by her grip, but he could feel it. The spreading wetness that started hot and quickly cooled, pooling toward his paws with a speed that brought him back to the day he'd lost Firnen. Limbs shook with the effort of not fighting to save himself, but soon the voice in his brain screaming at him to break free, to run, to live quieted as darkness crept further into the edges of his remaining vision.

Soon enough, the strength would leave his limbs, and the burning in his lungs would fade with the rest of sensation. To the end, he'd remain stoic, his collapse a controlled fold, until everything was replaced by darkness and silence. And, then, nothing.

-exit via death-

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of death, gore, decapitation, cannibalism

Her gaze stays pinned to his, right up until his final moment.

He breathes his last, strangled breath into her glutenous maw, and she swallows it down like a demon greedily sucking the soul from its victim. Blood pours copiously from the lacerations along his neck, soaking the ground underfoot — soaking her in its morbid stickiness. When he finally collapses like a ragdoll, his chest no longer moving to the beat of his heart, she finally relents and lets go. Jaws part wide as she throws her skull back and roars — a victor's cry. It is still bittersweet, but she knows the good that will come of this kill. Only time will tell if his death had been in vain.

Without waiting any longer, Ludivine's skull bends to the earth as she ensnares his spine in her deathly grip. Crack, the bones break and splinter under the force of her bite strength. Tendons split and sever — flesh rips asunder. Blood gushes like a waterfall and paints her in its intoxicating perfume as she slowly rends his head from his body. A brutal and grotesque display to be done to an enemy. Bite by bite she chews through the meat and muscle of his neck until, finally, the head falls aside — just in case he thought he could trick her by having someone revive him after the fact. Could one come back from the dead without a head?

“Our reign started with him,” she speaks finally to @Gauthier, lips painted with sanguine lipstick as she raises her head to appraise him. “It only makes sense for it to continue through his death. The children will have their first true meal with his body.” How wicked she grins — so wide and feral, so bloody and carnal. Once more she tilts her head back, but this time her call is for a specific reason: to draw her children from wherever they may lurk in the forest, to come for a feast.

@Madalina @Mélisande @Demetra @Bastille @Ravache @Vouivre @Djävul

ART BY SCARF — CODE BY SILH

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of gore, cannibalism, graphic imagery

@Ludivine had called at sunset. sanguine red sunlight licked through the canvas of their jungle, dripping from every leaf, the shadow of impending night at every corner, punctuated by that eerie incarnadine glow. the blood soaked earth itself seemed to warp around them at these hours, it being witching time for diurnal predators such as they. vouivre had not been to the edge of their borders before, and the canopy grew thinner until it broke into wild violet skies, the crowns of her divinely lit parents below-

paws slowed until she was still. time stretched.

there is something here, in the tradition: the calling of babes to horror, the unspeakable becoming unquestioned. in her youthful mind, such things were uncontested - so much was still new. what difference was there, to this? vouivre's face did not distort. she was not afraid. the headless body at maman's feet lay askew, the sharply broken jut of a white spine rising out from the unintelligible mangle of his neck. something acidic began to rise from the pit of her stomach, simmering just beneath the skin, a low hiss within her ears.

vouivre glanced to @Gauthier. "tati" came only a whisper, surely inaudible against the now growing static thrum. did he feel this magnetism, teeth to the flesh, the same as she? as ludivine had killed, were they now to feed, as they did with all manner of other creatures? truly, she knew what was required of them. but a vanquished foe was more than mere meat. did ludivine call them for this gift - his life, into their bellies? his strength, to be consumed?

the hunger had opened its mouth wide, a yawning chasm within her, ready to receive its offering - the draconic hatchling, uncoiled, serpentine, jaw unhinged. she had not known hunger like it. perhaps their meals until now had scratched an itch - but, after everything, they were still borne of their mother, fed from her body, formed in her womb. and there she is: their anointed sovereign, christened by the blood of the enemy, summoning her children to their first sacrament.

only seconds had passed, and the ozonic iron scent of their meal hit the back of her throat. something broke within the child. a wire pulled taut, unstrung. where shining eyes had been unreadable, they caught ablaze; her head dropped low, claws unsheathed into the leaf litter, instinct overcoming her young body. the wyvern unfurled her wings, a snarl itching to curl over dark lips. all her learned restraint shed itself loose, shrugged off like a cloak to the floor.

she had been invited, after all.

vouivre would not remember the approach to ryker's body - only that her maddening descent turned the world redder than it had been just moments ago. hungering teeth delved into too-familiar structures - skin, muscle, sinew. ears pinned back, she dug with tooth and claw, possessed by a need to go deeper, to take, to leave nothing. characterised by frenzied snarls, she was borderline demonic from the first kiss of raw flesh, absolutely sure she was entirely insatiable.

_{table by hush}