The night settled in like poetry – the gentle songs of crickets and other insects only awakened for the darkness. The glittering stars, too many to count, were beginning to appear in the inky indigo hues of dusk. A calm summer’s breeze filled the air with the sweet smell of flowers. Tonight, the pleasant aroma mingled with another: The alluring scent of a fresh kill filled the air.

The huntress was not interested in the meat she had procured, with the help of two of her favorite beings. In the name of Voxi, other wolves would not go hungry this dark evening. It had required all of their strength, skill, and cunning to take down their prey. Now, the ill-fated deer was dead. Whatever creatures in the world that loved him would be disappointed when he did not return. But it was a victory for the trio of hunters, and Rhiannon savored it. Though it had taken some effort to relieve the corpse of its head, eventually, Rhiannon managed.

In her jaws, she carried the decapitated head of their prey, teeth gripping it just below the base of the spine, which had snapped with such a delightful sound that Rhiannon nearly forgot her own wounds. Two dark, sightless eyes stared into nothingness, mouth still open in the last desperate gasps for breath. The reindeer’s blood splashed her silvery coat like a work of art. She was careful of those wretched, sharp antlers, which dragged in the dust beside the woman as she walked. Judging from the sheer size of them, Rhiannon guessed the unfortunate beast was a few years old, at least. A trail of crimson was left in her wake.

A deep inhale of night air caused the wolfess to cringe, and her side ached, bruised by the hoof of the now deceased deer. There was nothing to be done to help it or cure it, only time would do. But amidst the triumph of a successful hunt, Rhiannon was troubled to see what had happened to Nyx. And so it was she who Rhiannon sought now. After she had walked a short distance, she dropped the head of the reindeer, taking two steps to move beyond it as amethyst eyes searched the deepening darkness for its queen. Her nose tested the breeze for the other’s scent, even more alluring, somehow, than all the flowers and spilled blood. ”Nyx?”

@Nyx

art & code by alexandre

  in life, in death

we'll be together  

Ghostly eyes search the darkened skies for traces of moonlight, glancing over the patterns of stars and the dusky pink glow still lingering on the horizon from when the sun had stagnated somewhere beyond. They find the moon's silvered face high above, looking so small and far away but no less captivating. It holds Nyx's focus, her stare heavy and intent as she takes a moment to thank the venerable Queen of the Wilds for her party's good fortune tonight.

Their quarry was a strong and clever beast with an unyielding will to live; he kicked and fought for his survival but the determination of the three wolves eclipsed his own, and though the dark huntress bleeds, the cervine corpse cooling on the ground shows whose side Fate favored on this night. The fresh gashes raked across her flank breathe the warm summer night air, the kiss of the breeze making them sting but Nyx outwardly shows no signs of suffering. Such displays of weakness are unseemly of a warrior-prince.

Part of her curses the stag for its parting gift but another part welcomes and even savors the pain as a part of living and as a reminder that it is she who conquered in the end. The taste of death on her tongue is, too, a reminder and she savors that just as well.

A splintering crack peals through the night and shatters her focus, pulling her attention towards the source of the sound, towards the fallen deer that was now without a head. Nyx watches Rhiannon drag the head by the antlers, silver eyes drawn to the blood painting her fur — a splash of vivid crimson set in stark contrast to her shades of grey. A magnificent sight, evocative of blood splatters striking freshly fallen snow. It holds Nyx still for a moment of silent admiration.

That is until Rhiannon calls her name, prompting her to step forward. Nyx gives her ruffled mane a casual toss as she makes her approach, wearing her trademark smirk. “Yes?” she replies, slowing to a stop just a few feet away, gazing upon those violet eyes before her attention lowers to the severed head lying in the grass a couple paces behind her fair counterpart. “What is this? A trophy to commemorate our first shared hunt? I didn’t realize you were the sentimental type.”

@Rhiannon

A

short laugh bubbled up from her throat, and she flashed a smile, which appeared infinitely more savage with the prey’s crimson blood smeared across her delicate features. ”Sentimental? Oh, I suppose so. Am I so full of surprises to you, dear Nyx?” She asked in a teasing voice, enjoying the feeling of the other’s short but apropos moniker on her tongue.

A dainty paw rose and her rosy tongue began to clean off the unfortunate animal’s life’s blood from her own form before she continued. ”After all, it is not often I am in the company of such divine wolves as you and Nimue. I am grateful for the experience. And, anyway…” She pushed the bloody souvenir away from herself with her snout so that its blank, dead eyes stared in Nyx’s direction instead of her own. ”I thought you would like to keep it.”

”Perhaps not for sentimentality, though I hope that your time with Nimue and myself was enjoyable, despite…” Her eyes flickered to the wounds inflicted to the other’s dark body by their prey, and she controlled the urge to shudder. Rhiannon was not squeamish toward wounds and gore, generally speaking, but it was different, somehow, when the one hurt is one that she cared for. ”Aside from this humble offering to my Queen of the Night,” she continued, with an alluring smile and heavy lids, ”I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to assist.”




@Nyx

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck