[Miasma]

   There had been so much happening, Miasma simply hadn't the time to address it all. Her father's affection, Azuhel taking her rightful place as queen, the bloodshed, the brilliance! But the pretty girl with blood-red eyes and a shrill, cruel laugh hadn't escaped her attention. Sarissa sat proudly in the back of her head as she remained clipped to Crow's heel, ringed in proud Draconian seals as Miasma stared upon her adoptive father and wondered how long it would take to drain the last drop of filth from her blood.

   It takes effort to tear the girl away from him: Crow's behest and a quick snap was more than enough to have her off on her own. Pawing at the dirt, digging for stones and bones, sniffing at the air to find where their prey congregated. There is less than she expected, but if they have a tamed bear, perhaps Alteron also keeps livestock.

   Miasma is nosing at a badger hole when a black and white figure glides through her peripherals. She is accustomed to these sorts of shadows; Gigantea's accent still tickles her neck, just as Kaiju screams her greed until Miasma beats her brain unconscious. The figures don't have footsteps, though, just as shadows do not speak. The girls lifts her head, smiles after the bloodlust in flesh. "Sarissa!" she calls, pushing to catch up, flag her down, (she needs someone to FOLLOW). "You have a lovely name. I saw you at the crowning!"

   She might come off as a flatterer, or else uncomfortably interested. She is both. "You were brilliant, Sarissa. I hope I could be so outspoken some day." (If you die, I will wear your skin. I would give my life to keep you alive.)

[Sarissa]

She woke to the smell of roses permeating the air around her den in which she dug close to the thorny flowers. Every morning, the girl rubbed her coat along their petals and pollen, taking in the sweet scents as claws glided over her delicate skin. Never did she become annoyed at the tiny scratches, for she adored the large garden of roses. This was her home, her place of being and grandmother was so kind to let her live here. The lab that once was no longer existed, only a memory betwixt the meaty vines and thorns.

After her daily dose of perfume, Sarissa started down the path toward the Cathedral, wanting to visit her nieces and nephews before continuing on to something else for the day. Perhaps bother her sister or visit her plump mother. Either was on her mind as she hummed along with her footsteps. The song she started to sing was interrupted though, her name floating in the air by a piercing voice. One unfamiliar to her too, and the girl with red eyes glanced back to find a mono-tone pup prancing after her.

The stranger apparently saw Sarissa when Azuhel was being crowned as High Dominus. The girl smiled and batted her eyes a bit. “Why thank you my dear~ May I have yours?” Sarissa wanted to know who this little thing was, those eyes so pretty and striking. “I didn’t see you, but I was quite busy.”

She could still taste the blood between her teeth.

Another flattery and Sarissa giggled at the idea that she could inspire someone younger than herself. “You only have to try, speak your mind. Being shy gets you nowhere in Alteron.” The girl had always been outspoken, blessed by the fact her grandmother was Queen and her father a noble with a Court established. The girl had more rights than most in this humble kingdom. “Why don’t you stick with me, dear. I can teach you things.”

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[Miasma]

   "Miasma," she replies cheerfully, "I'm Crow's daughter, from Death Valley." Surely, everyone must know Crow? She listens, enrapt, to the black-and-white woman's advice, and nods dutifully. She is not shy, but it will take some time to unlearn the habit of clamping her mouth shut before anyone could tear out her tongue.

   Smiling in Sarissa's pretty, unscarred face, her tail straightens up. "Really!? Of course! I would love that so very much!" Miasma clears her throat, contains her enthusiasm, still prancing in anticipation. "What will you teach me, Sarissa? I want to be just like you!" (I want to take your place, kill your friends until you have no one but me. Oh please, oh please make me what you want. MAKE ME YOU.)

[Sarissa]

The girl gave her name — an interesting name, one that Sarissa would remember. The noted the bright eyes of a young child, something she once was and she smiled. Her smile grew upon her muzzle as she revealed she was Crow's child, and although the girl didn't know who Crow was, she knew what Death Valley was. How Azuhel told her a story of false Gods who polluted this world with their delusional fantasies. Sarissa hummed softly, her tail floating above her as she circled the young girl. "I don't know of your father Crow, but you come from a place that burned us. One of your Gods even tried to kill me. A pretty one with gold eyes and fur like blood. But you, my dear, are far prettier."

Teeth would try to snatch at Miasma's scruff, pulling her down and toward Sarissa so legs could pin her just beneath, so she could see those pretty eyes. A paw would slowly caress her face, soft and gentle like a mother, but her touch was poisonous as well. "I want you to be mine, Miasma. Would you be mine?"

Because the girl was so eager to learn, wanted to learn from Sarissa. "I will teach you the ways of Alteron, but first... you must know how to serve the Draconius throne, for she is better than your false Gods." She giggled before planting a sweet kiss on the girl's cheek.

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[Miasma]

   Her tail thumps as she's flustered, pawing at the ground her gaze is focused so intensely upon. "You're far prettier than I am, Sarissa." She has the inky coat, ruby eyes, white downy underside. Even Miasma's white isn't quite against others. She used to roll in tar just to dampen her liars' colours, but there are no tar pits in Alteron. Her patterns are sharp and speckled, but she doesn't possess the tell-tale scythes around her eyes that mark Crow's heritage.

   They all have their brands. Every wolf of Oukoku that faced the Dragon has their burns, like the blue born by every pirate on the battlefield. Scheherazade had her scythes, as any kin (true kin, not like you, not like LIARS) of Crow would. Had? Has? (Had.)

   She goes so easily when Sarissa reaches for her scruff; knows to let herself go slack, because fighting only gets them broken. Polished sea glass inside her skull, rubies dripping madness. "I'd have to ask my dad," Miasma pouts, dipping her head again. Her ears perk up as the woman continues to speak, however. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind that! Dad said Scheherazade was a fake." After all, he carried the blood that carried her. Didn't that make him far more godly than any of the Scions?

   Now, seeing him against Azuhel, with their broken-glass grins and foggy eyes, she knows. The Dragon is god, and Crow her immortal champion.

[Sarissa]

The girl seemed tied to her father as when Sarissa demanded that Miasma be hers the response was disappointing. Seems the object in her way was a man she knew nothing of nor did she particularly care. The girl wanted the pretty grayscale pup that was so eager to learn, to follow in the footsteps of a Draconis. Sarissa sighed dramatically, laying down with her weight still pinning Miasma, as she didn’t want her to go anywhere.

“Tell me, who is your father?” For Sarissa knew not who Crow was, never seen him nor has Azuhel ever spoke of him. She needed to know so she could steal this precious morsel away. At least this father of hers had agreed the Gods were false. Even so, she had to find a way to steal Miasma for her own. Influence and connections would have to do, maybe asking grandma for a favor. Sarissa did not know if this girl was low enough to steal way or if she was part of a court already.

Sarissa stood once again, releasing Miasma from her grip. “What was your home like?” she asked, curious to how different Death Valley was to Alteron. How much Miasma would have to learn.

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