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Her body took her on a meandering course, encouraging her to wander in ways that she was unaccustomed to. The black shadow moved comfortably under the cover of night, melting into the inky blackness of early spring like the utter nothingness she sometimes felt she was. Golden eyes were the only evidence that the creature moved through the lands: her paws fell in practiced silence, and upon four legs she felt her inherent power coursing through darkened veins. Linquilea was in a strange, nearly dormant state - she had yet to formulate her typical plans for conquer, though she would soon come to the borders of the pack called Ichika to discover for herself their weaknesses. And then she would venture north again to the feral pack, and perhaps there she would find Shandom Nightslayer.
Linquilea refused to bestow upon him his given surname. He'd never been deserving of a Qi'Vaex title, anyway. From the history she learned as a child, the dark Queen knew the line to be a strong one, if a little self important. But Shandom had taken it to an entirely new level, surrounding himself with only his thoughts and desires. No wolves were considered but him, try as he might to deny that she was his whole world. No, it had never been that way. Shandom lived for Shandom, and she had been a pawn in his game. How stupid she must have been not to recognize it! How ignorant! But Etienne had been wrong - their deaths had not been her fault. How could they have been? She had been curled around Jax...
It was the proximity to him that was causing these strange and dangerous thoughts to swirl around her already muddled brain. Linquilea was not in a right state - her golden eyes were consumed by madness as she walked on a shattered and ruined beach, ignoring the discomfort in her paws as she padded her way along the rocks. Niccolo was far away, back in the Northern woods - the Empress had slipped away under the cover of night. She had beaten him several days before, and the scarred chocolate man was still healing. A large gash on his stomach spoke of her wrath, and the scars that crossed his face had been reopened. He was most certainly uncomfortable, but none moreso than Lea.
She found herself suddenly at the water, paws kissed gently by cool ocean water. Linquilea tilted her head slightly, narrowing her golden eyes in her familiar contemptuous manner. The woman examined her face with a strange marriage of distaste and adoration - she was aging, and yet she was still beautiful. But, nevertheless, she was aging.
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