» A New Frontier

Take just what I came for They all gathered, called, harkened, beckoned by the reaches of chaos – and while the prince knew his purpose (for knowledge, for future vengeance, for the binding of souls together, united in unrelenting crusades), he wasn’t certain of the others. The beast nodded towards Amaris, bending his head in the direction of her gilded form, piercing eyes sliding directly towards her gaze, extending a slight whisper, a meeting of the minds. “What else might he teach us?” His brow arched, lips twisted in feral, darkened humor, because they all understood very well of Kisamoa’s past tutelage – slaughter, desecration, murder, and mayhem, with a penchant for duplicity, cloaks, and daggers. Manipulation was a key ingredient in most of his promises and lies, and if Erebos didn’t despise the mere existence of the fiend before them, he might have admired his tactics. Then Oizys slid alongside him, and he quirked his brow at her, leaning his cranium towards her quiet murmurs, flicking an ear, placing his stare on the swelling crowd as she spoke, considering, weighing the value of how much to say, how far to press, in the presence of those aligned with the demon. “I think we’re all fools to believe anything he says.” His words are quick and soft, a dulcet glimmer of sedition and rebellion, sliding in amidst the granules of maneuvering beings. He’s ruthless and tenacious, but not completely idiotic – he won’t denounce the being here, where he can hear, where he can stoke, where he can simply wipe them off this earth all over again. “Yet, here we are.” The laugh that followed his statement was void of amusement, coated in the lacquer and enamel of rancor, of bitterness, torn between the yearning to seethe and unravel right then and there, or to harbor his patience, his endurance, his fortitude, until the time was right. “Let me know if you learn anything we can use, and I shall do the same for you.” Then he morphed back into the scion of the northern lands, the General of the Basin, a little more regal, a little less seething, proffering Oizys a wink – because surely there was something they could utilize to put Kisamoa down. They’d slain all the gods it took to create him – how could they break everything apart again? His mind was sharpened and carved for war, for corruption, for distortion – and the last thing he expected was Wessex’s statement in his ear, but he turned towards her monstrous form, stupefied, bewildered, eyes widening, jaw dropping, features emboldened and haunted. She’d seen Enyo. The youth’s heart was instantly restless, and he could feel Orsino reaching through him, growling, hissing, biting, snarling, and he still didn’t relent that feverish pitch of hope that still clung in between beats of bloodshed and fury. “Where? Which mountain?” His voice was hushed and quick, swift and ardent, and instantly his body wanted to do two things at once – race off into the distance to find the little sable griffin, and to stay, fending off the next brutal wave of misdirection and folly.

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@Amaris @Oizys @Wessex