[Tovelo]

Tovelo stirred restlessly in her den, the scabs along her body from the war were slowly healing as time went on but internally was an entirely different battle. The tiny slaver seethed in her personal time, hating the outcome of the battle, hating the fact that they’d been dragged into a trap. Sure they’d fought bravely and had managed to retreat without much loss of life on their side but it still left her with a sour taste in her mouth. To have seen the Red Dragon for herself, to have the evil god within reach only to have her slip from the rosa’s grasp once more.

It infuriated her.

This was unacceptable.

They hadn’t been prepared, didn’t have the numbers that he would have required to squish the Red Dragons minions beneath their paws like the insects they were. She and the other Slavers would have to work hard on that in the future, Tovelo thought to herself. Already taking the lessons learned from their failure to improve the Valley. Slaving season was going to be extra important this year. She had her work cut out for her.

To bad any movement caused her excruciating pain. She supposed it was the downside of having a fleshy vessel, the shell was prone to damage which was annoying. Tovelo enjoyed pain when it was inflicted upon her by another member of the pack. Herself, not so much. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to her paws, ignoring the screams of pain as her chard flesh cracked and wounds were tugged on painfully. Her chest and paws were all scorched black by the dragon's rage and they were scars she wore with pride. Standing for a moment to give herself a break from the pain she stared down and admired the dark, blistering flesh that trailed up her arms in an intricate pattern. It was really quite lovely to look at.

She had been burned in the fires of war and had returned stronger, reborn into something beautiful. A true phoenix. The sound of approaching footsteps turns her head and she looks over at a child that drew near. She was large for a child and Tovelo was extremely small for an adult so they were nearly the same size, the only difference being the phoenix’s battle ridden appearance and jaded eyes. Whose child was this then? “Hello, little one,” Tovelo cooed softly, sitting herself gingerly down just outside of the mouth of her little den. “And who might you be?”





Ashtaroth’s heart pounds in double-taps against her sternum, reverberating through her bones like her own private earthquake. Her world has been up-ended, after all. Daddy’s a traitor, Mum’s a whore. At least they took the coward-child with them.

She’s unsure where to go from here, however; why follow Mum’s footsteps off the cliff she threw herself from? Maybe she should just bow to Scheherazade now; save her adulthood the trouble. Gigantea always wins, in the end.

It’s the sight of burns that interests her; fresh enough she can still smell the burning flesh. Perhaps she’s confusing it with the scent of prey remains left to bake in desert sun. No matter. “Did you fight in the war?” the girl questions on approach, words already tumbling from her mouth before the elder could speak. “Did you know my Mum, the Shihan?”

Patience, child. You’re aging too quickly to hold Anamelech’s interest— and protection. Tiny teeth click together, and Ashtar swallows, seating herself across from the slaver. “Ashtaroth, miss. I belong to Gigantea and her Seour, although I was brought into this world by Hanna’s womb.” She can’t hold her tongue for long, however. Maybe it’s the childish attention span, or the thrumming in her sprouting body. Maybe it’s the suspicion that’s hung over her since birth. Ashtaroth frowns a bit, gathers her courage, and asks, “Is she a traitor as well, or just an idiot to allow herself to be captured or killed?”





Tovelo delighted in children, amused at the way the babbled on and on never really knowing when to shut up. You could always learn so much from the little ones who heard everything, saw everything, soaked everything in like little sponges. “I did and it was glorious.. My name is Tovelo.” The phoenix.  When the little girl mentions the Shihan her ears roll forward, her interest piqued. “Why, yes I know the Shihan quite well, i’m one of her Slavers.” How was the Shihan? She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the woman since the war and had been too preoccupied with tending to her wounds and resting to seek Hanna out.

When Astaroth mentioned the fact that she belonged to Thetis and the White Rose her brows rose even further. Oh my. Tovelo knew her friend Thetis well enough to know that the girl could not be happy with the addition of new play toys for Gigantea. But that wasn’t what caught her attention, no what surprised her the most was Ashtaroth’s question. “She didn’t return with the others?” An uncomfortable feeling began to coil in the pit of her stomach. 





She blinks, pouting as she frowns. “Oh…” There’s little sadness in her voice, mostly boredom and touch of disappointment. It’s no surprise they hadn’t noticed; the heat of battle is what allowed such an exodus in the first place. Tovelo didn’t know her quite as well as she may have thought. She shrugs it away, ears rotating back to a poised focus. “I simply thought the timing unusual. You know, what with Ezekiel’s escape and the abduction of one of my siblings… It’s convenient mum’s gone as well, then. No need to spread the grief any further than necessary.” They will already mourn the warriors fallen; best she among them. Better than she likely deserves.

Ashtaroth sighs deeply, bones of her shoulder heaving under thick fur and dwindling puppy fat. “Well, no matter, then,” the child changes subject, slick as bodies disappear in the tar, “I suppose this isn’t Ragnarok, after all. Lucky me, I could have missed out on all the fun.” A blink of brown eyes, and interest shifts again. “Was the Dragon really there?”





This was all news to the petite slaver, the flame colored female frowned heavily as she tried to make sense of what the young pup was saying. Ezekiel’s escape? Everyone knew the rumors about the voiceless male, Tovelo hadn’t ever met the guy so she was without opinion on him one way or the other. But the girl mentioned that one of her siblings had disappeared as well. What was Ezekiel’s relationship with this girl? Sire, perhaps? Tovelo definitely had to seek out the White Seour and get some answers. There was much to be learned from the mouth of babes but she didn’t want to go around believing the lies of a puppy. That would be foolish.

The topic switched and she was thankful for the distraction, deciding to put a pin in that thought for now. “Don’t worry, Ashtaroth dear, when the time comes for Ragnarok- you’ll know.” Tovelo gave the girl an impish wink before frowning in memory of seeing the Red Dragon in all her sinful glory surrounded by her hellfire on the battlefield. Fire that had tried to devour her but alas, she had come out victorious. The Red Dragon could not defeat her. She did not fear the evil goddess of fire any longer. “Yes..” Tovelo said finally, her voice pensive, “The Red Dragon was there. In all her fire and fury.”





If she’s watching intently enough, Tovelo might see the twitch of a smirk coming to the pup’s face in the instant before it’s overtaken in a far less genuine, but coy smile. If Ashtar hadn’t already found her bond in Captain Iti, this slaver would make an acceptable backup. Maybe Lotus would like her.

She listens, enrapt, until it is the child’s turn to speak. Unabashedly, she asks, “Was she pretty?” Should any disbelief return, she simply cocks her head, reiterates, “Pretty. Does the Red Dragon have a pretty pelt? Is she really red, like I am, or more of your colour?”

Surely, this all seems a moot point. Met with confusion, Ashtaroth only responds with disdain. Should she see aggression, she accepts the snaps of her elders with pride, but still clarifies, “When we finally have the Dragon, is it worth gifting the skin to Gigantea, or should we simply tear her to ribbons?”

What a curious consideration. Such a strange girl.




Tovelo's lips curve into a vicious smile as she gaze at the young pup beside her. She would make a lovely addition to the pack one day, with her curious attitude and creativity. "It was hard to really see through all the ash and smoke." At Ashtaroth's disappointed look she would grin and quickly add, "Though pretty or not I'd still like to carve her pelt from he flesh." The idea filled her with a ferocious sort of joy and she sighed wistfully this time, looking up at the clouds above. "Maybe when the real Ragnarok comes we can make that dream a reality, hmm?" She asked the little girl, a small smile hovering about the corners of her lips

"Tell me, little one, what would you like to be when you grow up?"

[Ashtaroth]

   Wide brown eyes blink, fall to just beyond her feet-- an inept attempt at concealing the flurry of emotions overtaking her face. One day, it won't show them at all. "That's a loaded question, you understand." Her head comes up, even as her gaze shifts to the corners. "I'm only a child, after all. What do I know?" Besides far too much.

   Ashtaroth observes the small slaver, listening intently-- to her, and what surrounds. "I don't want to be Shihan." Ponderously, her head cocks, tail flicks. Can't quite contain herself, now that she's started speaking. "I don't want to be like my mother, is all I'm certain of." There's a slight nod, and she announces, "Tactician, miss. I would like to be a Tactician, I think."

[Tovelo]

Tovelo's lips twitch ever so slightly in amusement at the elaborate vocabulary of this young pup. She seemed wise far beyond her age. Those dark chocolate eyes carried a knowledge that said she had seen more than her far share of the darkness of life. Good. Better to learn when you're young. Tovelo made a low noise in the back of her throat and shook her head slightly. Children could be such mysterious creatures sometimes.

Quietly she listened as Ashtaroth considered her options. She didn't want to be a Shihan? Pity that, being a Slaver was good, hard work that contributed value to the society of Oukoku-kai. Still, it didn't exactly upset her. She merely felt slightly disappointed that her profession held no interest. Tovelo wandered if there was something that she could do about that. Without Hanna to lead them the group was just sort floating around aimlessly. They needed a leader. Hmm.

"Tactican is a honorable job, child." Tovelo cooed softly, "You have a sharp wit and a keen mind, I can tell. You'd make a great Tactican." If Death Valley didn't devour her whole first. Children were such fleeting things, so quickly snuffed out with minimul effort.