[private] hangman hooded; ana

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

It seems that he is not the only one of the Old World to have made his way into this New Beqanna.

It is a strange kind of comfort to know that he is surrounded by those who have also crawled from the grave or simply slipped back into this world from the shadows that had claimed them for years. He does not often find himself craving company—strange, for as social of a creature as he is—but he finds that he enjoys the knowing of it. Knowing that the world is now crawling with old blood and old ambitions.

Even more so knowing that the old ambitions can find hooks in this new world.

So it does not take him long to find his way to Pangea when the rumors meet him. Does not take him long to cross the threshold of Carnage’s land, not caring enough to learn the borders, and slipping further into the dusty caverns and plains of the place. He wrinkles his equine nose as he swings his head around, his dark tail flicking at his haunches as he moves forward—not certain that he likes it or not yet.

“It’s no Chamber, Ana,” he finally mutters, knowing that his once co-ruler would hear him soon enough. Still, he shrugs because it’s also not the worst of the places that he’s seen in his recent wanderings. These new lands seem to lack the heart, the life, of the other kingdoms, but Atrox has enough vision to know that it doesn’t need to remain that way forever. Enough time and effort and they, too, could come to life.

Or at least be animated enough to provide them with ample entertainment.

These days, he’s not certain that he cares either way.

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING

[Anaxarete]

HELLO DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND The creatures of old were coming alive. She could feel them - sense their familiarity creeping into a strange, foreign world. The shadowmare drank it in, the knowledge that the world she had known was not dead. Not yet. Not completely.  While the kingdoms of old may have been taken from them, they did not have to remain idle in this new world. They could build something new out of what was thought to be gone.  It was for this reason that she was unsurprised to find Atrox in Pangea. “It’s certainly not,” she replies, simply, “This place doesn’t have a heartbeat, for one,” she adds, with a smirk.  Her cold gaze moves from Atrox across the desolate looking landscape of Pangea. It was nearly the opposite of the Chamber.  The air was dry, no heavy with moisture from the thick fog.  There was no rolling forest - no lingering smell of evergreens and moisture. But there was a different appeal to Pangea.  Like the Chamber, Pangea clung to her secrets. This, at least, Anaxarete could appreciate.  It was that and the potential in these lands.  Magic of old had raised them, lingered in the sandy soil beneath their feet.  “It’s bleak, it’s dry, but it’s ours,” she uses the plural intentionally. She knows better than to assume why he’s come, but also knows him well enough to have at least some inkling of his motivation. “Just because the Chamber is beyond our reach,” she says, refusing to admit aloud that the Chamber is truly and completely gone.  A pregnant pause lingers as something akin to mischief flickers in her cold eyes. “Doesn’t mean that we have to go quietly into the dark, now does it?” A N A X A R E T E

image credit 

@[Atrox]

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

She looks the same as he remembers, although it has not been so long since he has seen her.

It is the strange way of Beqanna—the way that the old souls can sometimes find one another. The way that their paths can cross for even a moment, like gravity tying them back to the things that are the most familiar. They have several children due to that strange gravity; the youngest less than two and wandering somewhere. Not that Atrox has any sentimentality tied to their trysts, and he knows that she has even less. Whatever warmth resided in her once had long ago been bled away to be replaced by the shadows.

He has no complaints about the change.

She picks up the conversation as easily as he had known that she would, and the grin that he gives her in response is entirely feline—languid and arrogant, pulling on the edges of his mouth. “What a shame. I do believe a beating heart is central to a thriving kingdom.” He kicks lightly at the rocks below. “Although this place does not strike me at the place that would keep a heart so much as just devour it.”

Atrox has no great love for Carnage or the Valley, but he does not see the dark god here and he has no real reason to avoid a place for its origin. So he lazy smile remains when she claims that the place is theirs, looking around before bringing his gaze back to her. Beneath the swath of tangled forelock and above that deceptively languid smiles, his eyes sharpen. “I have no desire to go quietly anywhere,” a moment, as he studies her unreadable face. “Although I’d prefer to make noise from somewhere a little more green.”

He sniffs.

“There are some places that have potential, perhaps. With a little extra fog, maybe some pine trees.”

A shrug.

“Lakes are not the end of the world.”

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING

[Anaxarete]

HELLO DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND A twisted little smirk blooms upon her dark lips. Beqanna had certainly changed, but it provided some comfort that Atrox had not.  ”Well, it seems we’ll have to find another way to stir things up. I have some ideas, and I’m sure you do as well,” she offers, conspiratorially. She knows of his intentions and does not object to this course of action. Anaxarete is looking to solidify their position here and having strong, loyal territories would certainly be an asset to the growth of Pangea. “All of Pangea has been quiet - both this land and her surrounding territories. A pity really. I certainly wouldn’t object to injecting a little life into at least one of them.“  Anaxarete had nothing against those who currently lived in Pangea’s territories - but it only made sense to have territories surrounding them that would bolster their position, not hamper it.  “These new lands of Beqanna seem to resist any significant change… But I’m sure a little fog could be managed,” she adds, nonchalantly. Atrox she trusted to be loyal - not to her specifically but to the ideals that they shared. That was more than enough to unite them.  So much shared history to fall back upon. Though they might have no specific loyalty to each other - the pair of them were both united by an absolute loyalty to the Chamber. And just because the Chamber had been taken from them didn’t mean they had to throw decades of loyalty and service away. They couldn’t bring the Chamber back but they could make damn sure that her legacy wasn’t forgotten. “We can go now, if you’d like,” she says as the shadows began to swirl and twist around her - ready to bend to the requests of their master. A N A X A R E T E

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@[atrox]

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

Loyalty was a fickle thing for Atrox, but not something completely out of his grasp. He had been loyal to the Chamber to his last breath, more than once, and although he knew that the kingdom had sunk where he and no man could ever reach, he still felt that pull deep in his belly. Perhaps that is what makes it easy to think of running nothing more than a small territory beneath Anaxarete and not bristling at the idea. After all, at his core, Atrox was still a soldier and although arrogance came easily, so did brutal honesty.

He had served alongside Anaxarete and then ruled beside her—he knew who she was.

And he knew that the gifts that ran beneath her skin was more than he could fathom.

So he does not mind the idea of serving, in some capacity, beneath her now. He trusts that she would give him the freedom he desires and should she ever come calling with an order, or a request, that it would not be a dumb one. So he smiles at her, toothy and predatory, and rolls his black velvet shoulders.

When the shadows come, twisting around her limbs and then reaching toward him, his smile widens just a little, his yellow eyes flashing with interest as he steps forward. “I think it’s about time I found a new home,” he drawls, preferring to not think of the reasons that keep him from Tephra now.

It had never been his home, after all—it had been his son.

And thanks to the fates, Magnus may as well have never been his son, either.

“Let’s go,” he says, looking toward the future that they may carve together.

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING