L ike a drop of blood amongst the endless sea of white snow, the crimson wolf trudged onward. His dark coat, covered mostly by a thick black cloak that billowed in the arctic gales of the northern storm, would have stood out in the blank canvas the world had become, were anyone around to even notice him. As it happened, the weather had turned most sane folk back into their dens, caves, and warrens to wait out the storm in shelter. He was no sane wolf. Whether it was boundless loyalty or blind determination to see his job done, the wolf marched onward, buffeted by the winds and the snow and ice. Sharp argent eyes squinted against the wind that whistled past his ears, and each step earned a grunt for the effort it took just to keep moving. He could not stop though. Stopping meant failure, and failure meant death. Requiem had succeeded in his task, and the last of the Mirovis deserters had been hunted down. But when he tried to return to the small group of remaining loyalists, he had found no hide nor hair of them. They must have sought shelter against the coming winter blizzards, he presumed. Following the plans of rendezvous that had been drilled into his brain since Lurid had led her people to these lands, Requiem began to make his way across the northern territories in search of their meeting point—the landmark vessel of steel and rust that their Empress had so greatly desired before she had vanished from their lives. If the remaining Amarix wolves were to try and regroup anywhere, it would be there.

T he snow did little to stop the behemoth of a wolf, massive paws crunching through the fresh frozen powder and carving trenches in his wake. The cold was biting and was beginning to seep through his hardworking muscles and thick downy fur, threatening to sap his strength with every step he took. Each breath exhaled created a cloud of humidity to appear before his muzzle for a second before vanishing into the snowy wind. He'd have to seek shelter soon and wait for the storm to pass if the weather kept up like this. Requiem really did not want to slow down his return any more than it already had been, but with nightfall fast approaching in the shorter daylight hours, he didn't have much choice. Already the sky was growing dark, turning from a gray sky full of heavy clouds to an almost inky black. Still, he trudged on, unwilling to waiver from his course just yet. After some time, his efforts were gloriously rewarded when he saw the massive dark silhouette rising from the fields of ice and snow. Silver eyes lifted to the form of the beached ship and relief washed over him. Thank the gods... he'd made it!

F inding an entrance to the giant relic was a challenge in the near pitch blackness of encroaching night, but eventually Requiem found a hole in the hull of the ship and was able to slip inside. The silence within was almost deafening compared to the howl of the wind outside, each step Req took making the click of his claws on the steel floors echo around the cavernous interior. The ship was massive and derelict; a truly astounding sight to behold. But as he made his way deeper down the decks of the ship, something else astounded him even more. A scent on the air... one he hadn't smelled in two years, and one he didn't know if he would ever find again. Butterscotch and rum. Requiem froze mid-stride, his senses peaking as nostrils flared to breathe in the scent. There was no mistaking it. But how?! The further in he went, the stronger the scent became, so the practiced hunter began to follow it, weaving his way up and down stairs and down long corridors, seeking out the wolf who possessed such a perfume. When he felt like he was getting closer, Requiem began to whistle the tune that he did when he was working. His timbre carried down the passageways and echoed about the ship like a phantom's sonata, calling out for her. If Lurid really was here, she would recognize the tune, and she would know what it meant. He just had to wait to hear a response.

SCROLL OVER LATIN TO SEE TRANSLATION.

You should see me in a crown;
Watch me make 'em bow, one by one!

Oh, how she missed the faithful brothers and sisters coming. Lurid sat as she usually did in one of the bigger suites on the ship, surrounded by the pelts of past meals - all of them lupine in nature. Looking out of her window, she spies a dark figure in a familiar cloak in a brief change of the wind. Her tail thumped excitedly upon the bed before the springs groaned with the heavy demoness getting up and darting out of her room. She traveled down long, dark tunnels of the hallways, weaving her way down into the belly of the metallic cavernous ship. She made it down just in time to see the red brute enter, smiling wide as he came closer to her hiding spot. His head raised up as he scented the air, he had her scent but which way did it come from? Moving toward her, the red devil began to whistle in his trademark song. She let the game go on for a bit, careful to keep her claws off of the metallic floor and her pads silently floated her behind him. "Sciebam Mortem mihi venturum esse; sic expectavi." She sang in his tune from just behind him, hoping not to be caught by his jaws in his startled shock. Jumping back out of striking range, Lurid laughed at the look on his face should her game be successful.

Word count: 233 words.
"Talk." || 'Think.' || 'Hear.'

Note: Sorry it's short, dressy phone post!

ART

T he silence of the mausoleum the grounded ship had become persisted, even as Requiem wandered down its many long and dark passageways, whistling his eerie tune. Lurid was here, he was certain of it. Despite how impossible that reality may seem, there could be no other explanation for this place reeking of her scent. And so the loyal assassin moved forward, sharp auds perked atop his skull to catch every errant sound. Each groan of old metal, each click of claws on the floor, the muted howl of the wind outside. His whistle continued as he repeated his tune, listening to his melody reverberate around the ship, like his echo was singing along with him. Dark and silver eyes shifted to and fro, peeking into rooms as he passed by them. Lurid's scent was positively everywhere, and although some places bore it stronger than others, it was virtually impossible for the hunter to peg down where exactly her scent was the strongest.

T hen, as if by divine providence, he heard a sound. Not a voice right away. A breath. With as much time as he put into honing his art of the hunt, Requiem had sharpened his senses to near perfect lethality. In the silence of the ship, he could just make out the sound of something breathing behind him, one dark red ear swiveling back to show he had caught the sound. Muscles tensed, prepared to turn and strike at whoever was foolish enough to try and sneak up on him—until the lyrical dual tones of a voice he only heard in memories now spoke to him in a tongue scant few knew. Requiem rounded on her in a blur of movement, watching her jump away with a laugh. All the days in the universe could not have prepared him for the sight of Lurid standing there as if she had never disappeared. The goddess looked older, matured and aged like the finest of wines, and regal as ever while her coat shimmered and shone in the faint light. Were he the superstitious type, Requiem might have mistaken her for a ghost from his past. He wasn't entirely unsure that wasn't what he was seeing now.

A moment of shocked silence passed between them while Requiem drank in Lurid's appearance and presence. She was alive; she was really alive! "Illud unum tibi certum est, te semper mortem invenire," the dire brute replied in deep baritones with the tongue that felt familiar and intimate to them. Her use of the Amarix language was just another confirmation that this was the real Lurid, alive and in the flesh. "It seems the rumors were false. I've never been gladder to receive misinformation." Now it was his turn to chuckle as he turned to face Lurid properly, his eyes moving over her while he took in her appearance, appraising her to see how the years had treated her. "Receperint retro, Blodreina."

You should see me in a crown;
Watch me make 'em bow, one by one!

Keeping her silenced paw steps in time with the red demon, Lurid became giddy and excited as the game commenced and continued. They didn't get too far into the darkness before Lurid spoke up, her inhalation seeming to finally signal to Requiem that she was there and she watched as he tensed and made ready to strike out. It had been a long time since she had seen her faithful assassin, her tail waving behind her as she giggled delightedly at the look on his face. His expression said he was seeing both goddess and ghoul, but the relief in those black and silver eyes caught her off-guard. Realizing he would not have gotten the information from the others - as his assignment had come before her decision to relocate - Lurid wondered if he had thought she would be lost forever. She lifted her head and raised her tail, posing for him in the dark, letting him take in all he needed to assure it was really her, then he finally spoke to her. The gravel in his voice was a far cry from the youth it once had, but the depth rattled her chest cavity. And she liked it, too.

His words brought a depraved smile across her face, as if gleefully guilty - even though she was not this time. Welcoming her back made her laugh jovially, and she shook her head. "No, Sheidheda, commander of shadows. Welcome home to you." She then reached out and tipped his nose down with hers, coming in for a gentle headbutt, a personal greeting akin to a hug. "Suus 'bonus hic te videre, Requiem."  Her dual-toned voice was softer, quiet in the darkness as she pulled away. She hadn't realized just how worried for him she really was, but here he was, the first of many coming home to her. Things were looking up. Lurid pulled away from him, she didn't have to ask if the job was done; if he returned it was done.

With a motion of her head, Lurid told him to follow her. She had come to know the ship rather well in the time she had been here, and so she would share the secrets it held. Moving through the corridors and up a flight of stairs with ease, the demon moved to the sleeping quarters. "You can pick any room you wish, my room is one floor up. You have two floors to choose from. The upper decks will be for the heda and kepas, myself and one day the Haihefa will share the largest room." Her mood was drastically different from the bitch goddess' usually grumpy outlook, but it was a day to celebrate. Before he could speak, Lurid ducked into a room and brought out an old bottle of what looked like wine. "I have been drinking this, too. Once you pick your room we can celebrate your homecoming!" Her tongue took on the trademark Latin lilt, an obvious sign that she was slightly drunk and excited.

Word count: 502 words.
"Talk." || 'Think.' || 'Hear.'

Note: DED lmao

ART

T he giggles that rose from the pallid goddess rivaled the song of sirens, the light and lilting melody echoing down cavernous metal corridors like his ominous whistle had done. It was a sound that made Requiem's heart stop beating for a second. He had only ever seen Lurid this jovial when she had been much younger and being courted by Alastor, back before the fall of Mirovis. It was a look that suited the destined ruler of the known world. The way she smiled at him when he returned her words spoken in her family's dialect reignited old memories and fantasies from a time when they had both been much younger and newer to the game of life. A time when a lowborn wolf thought he could reach for a place at the table of the gods. She laughed, and the sound of mirth brought forth a rarity upon the crimson wraith's face—a genuine smile. Not one of malice or sadism, but of actual delight to see her alive and well. Spending these past two years clinging to a hope that seemed forlorn had been a test of faith and loyalty, one he had staunchly (or perhaps stubbornly) stuck to. He knew that if he stayed the course, his dedication would be rewarded in time. Oh, how right he had been.

L urid greeted him in turn, welcoming him back into her fold. There was no resistance or guard up as she approached him; Lurid was one of the few wolves Requiem allowed near enough to make contact and that hadn't changed. His head butted gently against hers, returning her warm welcome with a rumbling chuckle while behind him his bushy tail began to sway in a happy wag. Outward happiness was not something Requiem often showed, especially not in the wake of believing the world he had built around him had crumbled to its very foundations when the Amarix family fell apart, but for Lurid he would gladly make that exception. He had found the empress in a surprisingly good mood tonight, it seemed. She must have been celebrating hard, if the hints of alcohol on her breath were any indicator. How lucky Alastor must be, he thought, knowing the obsidian wolf would be going to bed with the intoxicated goddess for what would undoubtedly be a glorious night for them. "The feeling is mutual, Lurid," he replied. "It's been too long, though you look all the more elegant for them."

A s for himself, Lurid would no doubt notice the changes time had taken on him. His youthful body had been chiseled away into a sculpted form of a master of his craft, his body marred by the occasional scar, mementos from all his successful missions. Where he had been fairly lean in his young adulthood, Requiem had filled out, planes of masculine muscle bulking him up beneath his thick coat. And his voice, well, he had already seen the flit of surprise cross her gaze when he'd just spoken to her. Requiem had grown up and become who he had always wanted to be. But despite the rugged exterior, the brute still held a soft spot for the Ghost. He had spent his entire life training to serve her and her family, and her disappearance had worried him and crushed his aspirations. Now that she was back, Req felt a rebirth of his motivations, a peace settling over his blackened heart that had been absent since his leader had vanished. Lurid's return meant a return to form for the Amarix family—and a second chance for himself.

L urid motioned for him to follow, and the devoted wolf fell into step with her without question. Following her lead felt like second nature, and settling back into that routine felt like the prodigal son was coming home. Requiem moved with almost silent steps, a habit he'd developed over a long and illustrious career of violence and depravity, following the moonlit fae up stairs and around decks of the ship while she gave him the grand tour of their new home. She offered him his choice of room, explaining the layout of the ship which he committed to memory, lest he get turned around in this labyrinth of steel and rust. She mentioned her and the Haihefa's quarters and Requiem was about to ask on Alastor, but before a syllable could leave his lips, Lurid had darted into a nearby room, emerging from the dark a beat later with a large, old bottle that sloshed as it moved. Requiem raised a curious brow. So Lurid had indeed been drinking. The realization brought a crooked grin and a chuckle from the crimson brute. "Non ergo tempus tereret."

M oving down the corridor, Requiem sniffed out the large room Lurid had identified as hers and her Dread Father's, then moved down to the next room right beside hers. The quarters were nothing extravagant or special—modest in size for a single wolf and lacking any frivolities, but it had a cot with a mattress, blankets, an intact window, and some cabinets for storing items. More than enough for the assassin to work with. He didn't hold any personal effects, anyway, so all he really needed was a place to lay his head when he was home. Most importantly though, it was right beside Lurid's room, so should anyone be foolhardy enough to threaten the empress, he would be but ten seconds away from running in to tear the threat limb from limb. Perhaps he had other motivations beyond merely protecting the Amarix queen... but he had learned long ago to keep them tamped down and locked away. "This one will do nicely," declared Requiem with a simple nod. Stepping inside, the dire brute lifted a giant paw to unsnap the clasp on his cloak and let it fall off his broad shoulders while he made himself at home. As he stowed away his cloak in one of the cabinets, he glanced back toward Lurid and met her smile with a grin on his own. "Now, about that homecoming welcome..."


"Requiem" | "Latin"

So you wanna play with magic;
Boy, you should know what you're falling for!

Choosing the room next to hers, Requiem stepped into the darkness of the cabin and looked around. The moonlit bitch-goddess watched him as he settled, licking her lips as she found her mouth suddenly dry as soon as he removed his cloak. The boy had indeed become a man and rather chiseled with more than enough handsome in him to make the queen swallow her lust. Clearing her throat as he stowed his cloak away, Lurid smiled broad and lecherous, holding the half-empty bottle out to him. "You have catching up to do, I am already a half-bottle in." Her tail waved playfully behind her as she watched him take his fill of the bittersweet wine, aged just right in the chilly conditions of the ship. Chilly was a mild way to put it, as the winters here were often dark and covered with snow and ice, just as Old Mirovis had been. She was home, and there wasn't a force other than death that would make her abandon her family this time. So far, they had all come trickling in one by one. The only ones she had yet to see were her littermates, but they would come.

Lurid eyed the red assassin, the look in her eye meant she was thinking of her youth; before she had been promised away to Alastor. That all seemed like a cruel joke to her now, Alastor was likely dead or gone, and her heart had been forced to let him go. The firefly god had fucked everything up for her, but perhaps it had been a blessing in disguise. Already things had gone better since her sanctioned return, it seemed the god had forgotten her punishment and let her go. Requiem was so handsome when he smiled at her like that, but Lurid made no mention of it, simply waving her tail at him. "Now, about your welcome home party...drink." She commanded in her dulcet dual-toned voice as she produced another bottle, "We have more than enough for the both of us."

Word count: 341 words.
"Talk." || 'Think.' || 'Hear.'

Note: WOOOO 1K for Req! Lurid's seem so short now XD

ART

W ith his back turned to Lurid at the time, Requiem had not caught his moon-splashed goddess' gaze of carnal hunger as she drank in his form almost as much as she drank her wine. He did, however, find that lecherous grin that slowly crept its way across her beautiful face to suit her quite well, like an accessory made by the gods specifically to enhance her alluring nature. The empress of Mirovis held out the half-empty bottle of wine for him to take. Ever obedient, the dire brute took the neck of the bottle and lifted it gently from her grasp and into his. His tail wagged a slow, metronomic loop behind him while Lurid teased him with her playful banter and challenged him to catch up to her. That was a game the debaucher was all too eager to play with her. "Then I guess I'd better catch up to my leader," he remarked, his ever-present wit shining in full force. Fixing his grin which he wore easily when he was with her, Requiem lifted the bottle in the air and dipped his muzzle to Lurid, reverse melanistic eyes shimmering with playfulness. "To your health and reign, Lurid Amarix. Prosit."

R equiem then lifted the glass bottle to his lips, keeping his playful gaze held on Lurid's while he swallowed a mouthful, then two, then three large gulps of the bittersweet red wine. He was no stranger to alcohol, but this particular vintage tasted especially strong and rich—much more luxurious than he was used to drinking. Req realized Lu was spoiling him a bit by sharing her best wines with him for his welcome home. As the bottle neck left his lips, a few errant dribbles of the rich scarlet liquid spilled down his chin, almost lost in the dark red fur that covered his body were it not for the moonlight making the liquid shine on his mouth. In the low light, it was almost akin to blood dripping from the monster's fangs. A warmth began to settle deep in Requiem's stomach as the wine reached its destination, seeping slowly throughout his body. The wine was indeed strong, and the assassin was beginning to see why his queen had become inebriated from just half the bottle.

R unning his tongue over his lips and smacking them clean, he nodded his approval as he considered the wine. "This tastes like something you'd save for a special occasion," he remarked with another graveling chuckle, then downed another couple of mouthfuls. Lurid had given him a very clear order to drink and catch up to her level of intoxication and he would obey with delight. His moonlit goddess produced another unopened full bottle for them to enjoy together, earning a crooked grin from the wraith. They were both likely to get very drunk before this night was over! But hey, this reunion and revival of their grand plans called for a toast, so pour forth the wine as far as he was concerned! Requiem shot Lurid another simmering look before raising the mostly empty bottle to his lips and chugging the remainder of the first bottle so he had now consumed half a bottle's worth of the ambrosia to match her. By the time the brute had taken his last swallow, that warmth in his belly had grown to a pleasant all-over tingle and he could feel the haze of tipsiness settling over his brain like a blanket. They both still had a ways to go, but he was rapidly closing in on her level now.

S etting the bottle off to the side, Requiem looked around his modest room, up to the cot, and then back to Lurid. "Would my Night Mother like to make herself more comfortable in my room, or would you like to adjourn back to your chambers' comforts while we can still walk straight?" Req would leave the decision up to Lu, whichever she preferred. He was equally as happy to share his smaller bed to sprawl out on while they drank themselves silly as he was to join her in her more luxurious suite for their midnight revelry. Whatever she picked would likely be where he would eventually crash in a drunken stupor at some point tonight. Either way, once she had made her decision, Requiem continued to keep his eyes on Lurid, almost as if he was still waiting for her to disappear before his very eyes like one pleasant hallucination. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her being... Time had refined the bitch-goddess into her namesake—a true goddess given flesh on their mortal plane. She had always been divine to him in their youths. Now she was ethereal and elysian, flawless by all accounts.


"Requiem" | "Latin"

Make me your Aphrodite;
Make me your one and only!

In her inebriated state, Lurid could not help her gaze intensifying as the red devil drank from his bottle. The dark color of the wine was lost in his pelt, making a lecherous grin spread over her face. The moonlit goddess didn't care if she caught her looking like she wanted to feast on him, she had no other attachments to mind anymore. Her ears felt hot, her throat dry, and the wine was not quenching her thirst any longer. Instead, she had other things on her mind, like how this man stood before her and drank more than enough to catch up to her. Follow the leader indeed. "Est occasio specialis. Domi es." She spoke eloquently, dual-toned vocals almost husky in nature thanks to the alcohol. Her first language came more naturally to her as she drank more of the wine.

The dark red she had picked out spilled lightly down her lip, staining her pelt a bit, though blood red had always looked damn good on her. He asked if she wished to stay in his rooms or go to her own more opulent cabin, making the Blodreina smile. "Recedere ad cubiculum meum possumus." With a flick of her tail to rest above her hips, Lurid moved to go to her room with a gentle drunken sway to her steps, fully expecting her Sheidheda to follow her. Once in her cabin, Lurid hopped up onto the bed she had made for herself, the springs of her soft mattress protesting softly. She laid out a wolf pelt for him to lay on beside her, patting the bed to tell him it was okay to join her. There were couches and other sitting areas within the captain's quarters, but she preferred the softness of her own bed. "Come sit with me, Requiem." The way she said his name said everything he needed to know, in her drunken state she would not hide it. The attraction was a powerful thing, and Lurid was not one to shy away from it. Alastor was likely not alive and if he was he had probably moved on after all this time. Why should she live in the past when the present was her favorite color and much more handsome? She had made up her mind, no longer would she hold to the ghost of Alastor, vows or no vows; she had a life to live.

Word count: 401 words.
"Talk." || 'Think.' || 'Hear.'

Note: ---

ART