Sylva had grown tired as the lands surrounding them continued to shift and change. Once again, the light proved itself to be fickle as the dark remained constant and assured. However, it seemed, even their neighbors had fallen victim to the rolling restlessness of change. The whispering of the wood told of a new face upon the throne - the challenges of leadership weighing too heavily upon Arthas. Astarael had never met the mare, but she disliked the mention if him. He was not a true servant of the darkness and his unfaithfulness made him a foe in her own eyes. Unfortunately, since his resignation, she no longer remained certain of Loess' intended relations with them. Thus far they'd held anunderstanding, if not a similar motive. Now that was being brought up to question.
Slinking though the forest Astarael trained her senses to the first sign of her only diplomat. Chosing a familiar path her nose braced itself against the scent of decay and death. Beneath her hooves the ground shifted colors, transforming from a placid grayish to a deep burnt red. Above her the bodies of the deceased, swung in the breeze. A gruesome sight. The demoness did not flinch away from the reality of it - life and death was the natural order. It only, occasionally, proved beneficial to speed along the process a bit.
The sound of gleefull romping caught the queen's attention and her ears swiveled towards the innocence of it. Leading the way, snaking fingers of red aura weaved through the trees to find its victim. Playing in a fresh batch of victims, the buckskin Jackel tossed herself about in a fashion expected by one much younger. It was plain to see that evil and pure derangement were not one and the same. Pushing into the opening she boldly approached, waiting for the playful mare to notice her queen's attention.
@[Jackel]