Totally had to use Talitha's new, super sexy table. Because it's just that sexy.
Her world had long since been colored with such wonderful experiences as loneliness and hate, leaving the dark princess shaped with her sense of longing for someone who could simply understand. Of course, upon reaching that destination, she was so unwilling to accept it. How could she? How could she, self-important daughter of a monster-King, admit her affection for the vagrant wolf of the gold-furred whore of the dog pack? It simply wasn't possible, not in the fragile mind of the de le Poer. She had since embraced the name of her father and his father before him, of wolves and not coyotes, yet she still found herself incapable of acceptance in regards to the cousin-species that ruined the earth with their presence. All of her hatred could not keep her away, however. Caillen rotted in the mountains without his lover's presence, and she had made him suffer long enough. It was time to return to the arms of the wolfdog — his mother's touch had faded from the ruddy features of his midnight Queen.
She didn't tell Ezekiel she was leaving, nor would she have had he asked; though they had grown apart, she did not trust her golden brother to simply allow his sunset twin to roam the world freely without consequence. He had followed her for so long, after all, and he had made it so very clear that she would not leave Inferni while he was Aquila. Running off into the shadows to meet the man who had managed to capture a part of her cold, hypocritical heart was certainly wrong of her, and so she fled without permission and without thought to allow Ezekiel know where his sister disappeared to.
In silence, she ascended the mountainous peaks, crimson eyes paying no mind to the unnecessary until the sight of carved markings upon the trunks of trees came into her view. She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to see the depictions there; it was surprising to see what was clearly a male and female together. A snort escaped her nose. "This is why you've been too busy to come and see me?" Her voice was not cold, nor angry, but laced with the satiny tones of jest as her eyes sought out the doggish features of her sometimes lover; once they rested upon the slate fur of the larger male, she approached and reached one gentle hand out to rest upon his back.
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