Ace of Knaves
#1
There was a storm brewing overhead, the warm winds that had been whipping across the meadow had turned chilly and savage in mere moments. The madness of the storm flashed in sparks in the clouds, dancing across the heavens in a deadly play of power and force. There was a mocking tone to the thunder that chased the lightning across the skies, the rolling boom of the echo of chaos unrestrained. It was pure and simple but so savage and deadly all the same. The bolt of lightning ripped across the sky again as the figure of a single soul stood in the middle of the meadow, dancing in the wake of the storm, daring the raging tempest to bring forth the might and glory that nature could only grant to the world.. and the mother listened.

His dark hued face was turned up in greeting to the whipping winds, his own rain soaked mane lashing across his face and shoulders as he let his voice challenge the beast above. A bone chilling howl, more yipping and lonely like that of a coyote broke out across the lands, rolling with the thunder as the storm met him like a lover. He knew in the hours after the tempest had past that he would regret the chill that would have crept to his bones and there would be nothing left of the glory of it all but the aftermath left in it's wake... it was the same way between the way of the beasts that roamed the lands.. he was in the height of his life.. and one day he knew he would fall.. but it wasn't today.
#2
Oh, she had been beautiful once.

Years and years ago, Linquilea Yae was a sight to behold. She was lovely in mind and body, her spirit untainted by the madness that so darkly curled around it now. She'd learned to harness it, use it to her advantage when she could no longer let the hatred fuel her every motion, but it had tainted her a bit. Her face had always been masculine in nature, slightly less angular than the typical female and heavier, but now it reflected her brutality and madness. The dark Queen hated it, hated that she could so easily be ruined by something she could not control. But that was the story of everything, wasn't it? Life, it seemed, always spun a way from her in ways she did not care to recall. The physical alterations she'd undergone since losing them were the least of her problems.

The dark woman stood on the cusp of a meadow, her dark golden eyes narrowed on the form that was not too far away from her. Her own dark hair whipped around her face as she stood in her bipedal form, but she made no motion to tame the angry locks. She knew how she looked - an ethereal demon, wrought from hell itself, standing like a statue before she made her deadly move. Linquilea reeked of danger, of venom and hatred and spite, and those who came around her knew whether or not they would live or die. She was not careful that way. But in the glory of the storm she heard the call of the stranger and tilted her massive head back as well, releasing her own cry that sounded perhaps a little sadder than one would have imagined.


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