Her presence in these lands was no longer a foreboding whisper on the wind, but instead something far greater, far more real, for her face had seemingly risen from the dead, from the ashes left behind in the wastelands of the Haven, to haunt Alpha Teren; to make him realize he could never escape his tormentors so easily. She had rather enjoyed ghosting along the outskirts of his newly claimed kingdom, taunting him with nothing more than her passing scent, making him wonder against all odds whether or not it was possible that the she-devil had not been left behind. She was very much so like a tick, gripping the back of his neck, feasting on his blood until she was full enough to abandon her post - she could not be shaken off until she was finished, much like the mentioned insect that made a habit of being a pest. It was a shame, really, that she would not be finished until he was dead. There was no way of knowing when she had become so incredibly vindictive, for surely it had not been the actions of Teren alone that had amplified such a quality? She had always made a hobby out of crawling beneath other wolf’s skin, toying with their emotions, pulling the delicate strings of their minds like a masterful puppeteer, predicting their thoughts until the point that she was illusively controlling what they said and how they said it like a skillful ventriloquist. She had always been a touch deceptive, not too far off from being downright cruel, but he somehow grabbed ahold of the very worst of her and forcefully dragged it up to the surface, dragging it farther and farther up until she no longer had perfect control. It had gotten so bad that she feared there was little she would not do to guarantee his death. It had been coincidence alone that she had happened upon the same territories as the despicable Alpha male from her past, from a time when he had been an Elite male instead, under the command of who she now called Alphess. It was funny how things changed. Of course, he had flaunted his new reign, and she had expected nothing less from him. She sincerely hoped that he enjoyed it while it lasted, for age was being none too kind, and it was only a matter of time until he could no longer feign the act of an almighty, unconquerable sovereign

As much as she hated to admit it, these lands did have something beautiful about them: the array of reds and purples and everything in between blanketed every corner, every branch, every crook and every cranny. Admsit all of its vibrant hues, one of such pure white pigmentation could easily feel out of place. The leaves that littered the ground softly crunched beneath the weight of her paws, moving with a carelessness she was not commonly known for, believing herself to be completely and utterly alone and, thus, finding no use in attempting to mask the sound of her momentum. There was so much beauty surrounding her that she very well could have almost forgotten how many disgusting things resided in a close proximity - how many disgusting things had perhaps traveled this very path. She resisted the urge to return to Helidos in the seconds that such a thought settled into her brain, clinging to her thoughts like a pesky fly, cringing against the pictures of Teren that flickered in-and-out of her vision until the image of his face was nearly bleeding red. It was a wonder how she could remain so collected when she was seeing him in the flesh, when all she wanted to do was rip out his throat when she was alone and confined to what her vile imagination could conjure. A snarl was building inside of her throat. It was on the verge of bursting with or without her consent, but she managed to calm the raging fire with seconds to spare.

The white warrior decided to take a seat under the shade of a large tree, its plethora of lavender leaves catching the hints of sunshine that peaked through the canopy, dancing in a downward spiral until they encountered her white fur and highlighted it in a warm, pinkish glow. The image, itself, was quite breath-taking. She appeared surreal; too angelic to be anything real. Looks were so terribly deceiving, though she would be lying if to say that she did not appreciate how easy it was to convince others of her personality with nothing more complex than a smile and a flutter of her bronze eyes. She would never tire of manipulating her kind. It was a game with an endless amount of pieces to be played, all presenting various, unseen tactics through which they could result in her favour. Even though these admittedly eye-catching sceneries would likely give her something mildly interesting to do for the next little while, she could not completely rid her mouth of the bitter aftertaste that encountering Teren had left behind. She needed to find somebody else to sink her teeth into - not literally, of course. Not yet. Really, anybody would due. She was not feeling overly picky.

But there was no preparing for how perfect her pending source of company would end up being.

The first thing that graced her tilted ears was a snarl, so thunderous, so mighty, so vicious that it seemed silly only moments prior she had been contemplating something as pathetic as the beauty of this ethereal realm. She exhibited an exquisite calmness as, slowly, she lifted her chin and angled her head in such a way as to properly look towards her source of company for the remainder of this visit to neutral lands. There existed an element of shock before anger, burning hotter and burning brighter than any fire, where her bronze eyes seemed to dull and see through him rather than at him, as though her imagination was playing cruel tricks and had decided to conjure up the Devil himself so shortly after an exchange she had been wishfully hoping that she could forget. They were too far apart for her to accurately determine that one was not the other - that he was only a sibling of her enemy, and not the actual menace himself - and, with her lack of patience to process the scent that he carried, she had not thought to wonder whether or not she was poorly mistaken in the moments leading up to something beautiful evolving into something far worse than any nightmare could hope to create.

She sprinted. She did not merely run, moving along at a disgraceful pace, but in fact sprinted like a cannibalistic maniac that was too hungry to consider something as stupid as what was morally acceptable. She did not care that she was acting irrationally. She did not care that her games had only just begun, and she was in fact ruining every detail and every plan to satisfy the simplistic pleasure of sinking her teeth into the space between his shoulder and his neck. This, after all, felt more like a dream to her than a reality. As she lunged like a cobra with a pair of poisonous teeth at the ready, her eyes very well reflecting the red of the blood she had every intention of spilling, the red of the blood that she could visualize pumping through his body, she wanted only for him to be dead and, as of now, it seemed wholly achievable. And as she did not run, but in fact sprinted, there was no anger - no replica of a snarl that she had heard erupting from his lungs before - inscribed upon her pretty face. She seemed angelic, as though a deity of purity and peace, that raced at unfathomable speeds to merely greet him. To greet a loved one, or perhaps even a long lost friend from a time before.

It was in those seconds where his eyes were no longer green, but in fact silver that she wondered whether or not she was seeking the right throat. From there, she realized that there was a lot more white to be seen throughout the body of this male then there was on the body of her true enemy. She slowed in the nick of time, her predatory sprint reduced to that of an uncertain gait, no longer picturing a meal where his head seemed to be. There was a minimal distance between them now - he snarled angrily with bared fangs and accusatory eyes, and she with nothing more complex than an innocent wandering of her eyes, in awe of the similarities that nearly cost him a most brutal fight. “The similarities are striking.” She spoke eloquently, no sign of the demon lingering within her exterior, as though it had up and vanished in mere seconds. She disregarded his aggression as though it were nothing of importance, as though there was no threat to be perceived, for she, in fact, was focused solely on a matter of far greater significance. There was no time for petty things like hateful glares. His eyes could continue to burn straight through her white fur, down to the soul that she could only absently consider brought back to him painful, distasteful memories. “I would apologize for picturing a significant limb severed from your body and lain approximately three strides that way,” she paused for only a brief moment to jerk her head towards a beautiful, lavender tree a short distance behind him. “If I were, in fact, sorry for it.” There was something uncannily scientific about her calculative way of speaking: as though he were a statistic, rather than a living, breathing wolf standing in front of her. She smiled despite the eerie chill that accompanied her words, blinking prettily, innocently, allowing time for the threat to pass along with her current intention to do permanent harm.

“From the hate in your eyes, I am inclined to believe that you’ll understand a bit of purposefully thought sadism. We all mistake one another for somebody a touch less appealing from time to time.” She was, of course, referring to how she had believed him to be the sovereign of Erenyx, but there was room for interpretation in that she sought to shed the way that his silvery eyes lingered upon her, seeing the face of someone she was not.

At his words, she would smile, truly smile - smile in a way that felt unnatural on her lips so tainted with the blood of enemies - because it meant that she had been correct in assuming that something darker inhabited him. Newly curious, she returned his stare with one of her own, not one to back down from a challenge and certainly not one to cower in the face of an arched tail. She regarded his small semblance of authority with a bored fixation of her eyes, not a single muscle shifting throughout the entirety of her lithe body before she allowed her attention to return to his words instead. When he said that her fur was beautiful a slight shudder of displeasure shot up the length of her spine. She was not unfamiliar with the way that, sometimes, a few stray eyes wandered over her exterior like she was a piece of fresh meat that they could sink their teeth into. She was pretty, to say the least, and that single word often times associated with this idea of fragility. Although she was smaller than the average male, there was nothing powerless about her. The fact that she was not afraid to make this known, and to stand up for herself through the usage of sharp fangs, was enough to have most backing down before it was too late to swallow their pride. There was the odd wolf, however, that did not know any better. She had yet to determine which category this male would fit into, though it seemed like he would not be the type to let himself be trampled over top of. Which, of course, would make trying to trample over top of him all the more amusing.

Albeit certain that she had happened to remind him of somebody from his past, she had not expected it to be along the lines of a lover. It explained why he had seemed so inclined to bare his teeth and to set his paws defensively, and also why, even now with the proof right in front of his eyes that she was not the same female, he still looked her over as though unnerved by how much she reminded him of her. She made a mental note to keep those similarities that he spoke of in mind. Sure, it would not be nice of her to use that sort of thing to her advantage, but was that not precisely why she would use that sort of thing to her advantage? It was a shame for him, really, that he had not been closer with his brother - maybe then he could have been pre-warned about the manipulative she-devil that was referred to as Banshee. For the time being, she would continue to smile, to put as much focus of hers as she could muster into this conversation. There was, truthfully, something very interesting about him that she wished to get to know more about. If, sometime down the road, an opportunity presented itself in which it would be most perfect to manipulate his feelings for a she-wolf from the past, then she would probably take that opportunity without second thoughts. There was nothing that she would wish for him to take personally; she would not apologize for the way she liked to handle her own private endeavours. It was entirely up to him how much information he gave out, but she would be among the last to put a stop to it.

When he stepped closer to her, the she-wolf was forced to tilt her chin upwards if to properly continue holding eye-contact with him. She would not show any weakness; she was not afraid of him, or of what he could do, and the sooner he realized that, the better. If anything, she was intrigued to bear witness to whether or not he could make true of his claims of wishing to slit her throat. When he inquired as to who she had mistaken him for, she pondered momentarily whether or not it was in her best interest to enlighten him. It certainly could not hurt, for it was not necessarily a secret that she loathed his King. Perhaps he would only prove to turn his back on this exchange shortly after hearing of how much she despised his Alpha male, high-tailing it to the monster’s den in Erenyx to inform him of his words shared with his nemesis. It was of no matter to her. It was not like anything that he could tell Teren about her, or about what she was going to say, would be anything other than precisely what he would expect from the likes of her. Inhaling the smell of Erenyx that clung to his fur, she could not help but be brought back to a time when she had smelled the exact same thing on Teren, her lips instinctively curling backward in disgust. “I would hope that you would be familiar with the male it is that I wish to tear to shreds.” she spoke the threat with utter nonchalance, as though it was no bother to be discussing something as morbid as the desire to slaughter. “After all, it would be most unfortunate for a wolf of Erenyx, such as yourself, to not be familiar with his sovereign.” She searched his expression diligently in the moments that followed, looking for the traces of an opinion upon his face before he concerned himself with responding. Even with this new information hanging between them in the air, suspenseful, she did not avert her bronze eyes or shuffle in such a way as to create more distance between them. She was perfectly comfortable being this close to him. If not more comfortable - something of which she made a show of proving when, instead of moving away from him, she shortened the distance even more than it already was. Now, if he so much as even stretched out his muzzle a tad farther, he would risk making contact with her own white-as-snow jaw.

“It would be a shame if you and your Alpha were close, for I am afraid that nobody will be able to stop me from getting what I want. And what I want is quite plain and simple:” She did not blink. She hardly even so much as breathed. “I want to see to it that Teren is dead. I will not be satisfied until his intestines are sprawled in front of me for the world to see and to marvel at.” She cared not for the fact that this Erenyx wolf would more than likely have a hard time digesting the matter of a Helidos wolf plotting the demise of his Alpha male. A part of her almost hoped that this stranger was, in fact, bonded with Teren, so that news would spread throughout the King’s pack lands that somebody out there wanted him dead. She had no way of knowing how the wolves of his pack fared under his leadership: whether or not they respected his uncanny methods of being a leader. Although she was curious of this male’s opinion, she would not directly ask for it, nor would she be particularly saddened if he so happened to disagree with everything that she had hoped for since having arrived in this new place. It would just be another pointless opinion to disregard. When had she ever cared for what another had to say, anyway? She would not be starting now.

His laughing at her words had not come as much of a surprise, though she initially believed it to have something to do with the fact he thought lesser of her ability to murder because she was female - something she had almost come to expect from males, having grown accustomed to Teren’s way of thinking. She had no problem proving all of them wrong. She considered in the moments that followed where on her growing list of annoyances this unidentified male would fit in, until, of course, he spoke and proved himself of having reasons for laughing that were far greater than what she had believed. She looked to him with a new fascination, a new intrigue, finally understanding where she had recognized him from earlier when she had been moments away from attacking. This was the brother of her prioritized enemy. And he wanted the tyranny dead just like she did. She almost wanted to smile, to close the distance between them - satisfied in their shared desire to end Teren’s life - and begin discussing plots and plans of how his death would be the most fun. However, this was not yet the time for such pleasantries. He had given her a reason to stick around, to listen to him, but there was no immediate trusting of a wolf that shared Teren’s blood for her. As of now, she had no way of knowing whether or not he was lying about wanting his brother dead for the sake of getting onto her good side. She would not put it past someone in Teren’s family to try and make a mess out of something that was already messy.

As he circled her, she remained unconcerned, going so far as to rest her haunches upon the ground in the form of a relaxed sit. She waited patiently for him to once again situate at her frontside, copper eyes fixed upon with him great intensity. “My name is Banshee, dare I ask who you might be?” She was being careless with her words, for she felt no reason to try too terribly hard at deceiving him of anything. There was potential of him becoming a greater ally than she had ever hoped for. If he was being honest when he said that he wanted to slay Teren, then she had every intention of recruiting him onto her side, and perhaps even sharing some of the glory with him when the time came to strike Teren down. She had not failed to detect the part where he wanted to kill the Alpha male himself, but she was not planning on sitting back to watch. That would never be enough to satisfy her. She wanted him to be alive when she knelt over him, his dearest brother at her side, so that he could see that she got to take part in the pleasure of sucking the life out of him. If he proved less capable, less worthwhile of her time, then he seemed at the current moment, then she would once again build up her facades and her games and, hopefully, make another sucker out of the damned fool. For the time being, however, she could put her merciless soul to rest and play nice. “You resemble your brother in appearance. I feel the immense need to sympathize with you for that misfortune.” Comical as the statement was, he may or may not be surprised to find out that she was being completely serious. “I must admit . . . I am intrigued that you hate your own flesh and blood so. What has motivated your desire to slay him?” Another question popped into her mind - she had no issues firing one after another into this male’s ears. She wanted as much information as she could get her paws on. “You reside within his pack, as well. Does he realize that you wish him dead?”

The name of the wolf that she would familiarize herself with more thoroughly, that she would tolerate working alongside, perhaps even go so far as to trust to a small degree, was Caspian. It was odd to be standing so close to someone that once prized the Alpha male that she loathed. He no longer did, which was certainly enough to keep her from desiring to hold his neck between her teeth, but even still that longing fluttered around in the pit of her stomach It had been so long, so terribly long, since she had remained seated in front of someone, a stranger, without waiting for the perfect moment to unleash a violent monster upon them. To some extent, she still sought his death. It would take much more than his word alone to convince her of his worth - to convince her that there was use behind him being alive. There was a chance, nonetheless, that she would grow fond of him. As fond as someone like her could manage to be, anyway. She had always been a solo act: a bringer of death that did not want, nor need, to rely upon others to get the job done. There was an object of interest to be found, however, in the idea of sharing some of the glory. She had never sought a partner in crime. She would not deny Teren the single thing that he most prided himself upon: his strength, and thus his ability to intimidate. He was an opponent that she had taken a considerable amount of time contemplating, calculating, in search of the best method through which she could rise as the victor. She was confident that, in time, she would be able to complete the messy deed on her own, but was there nothing to gain from accepting a stranger’s help this time around? Two would be better than one when to pit themselves against the likes of Teren. Caspian had a lot of Teren’s physical qualities - and he was correct in saying that such was not that terrible of a thing. He would be able to hold his own when it came down to brute force (at least, she liked to hoped that such was true) and then she could handle the other side of the combat-oriented spectrum: snake-like reflexes, and a quickness of momentum that made her twice as lethal.

In a fluid motion, she rose to her paws and padded closer to the male. She walked directly along his side, elegant, her eyes never retreating from his facial features as she did so. The tip of her feathery white tail was meant to swish along the underside of his jaw as she went, approaching yet another lavender tree that was a short distance behind where she had left him sitting. She did not pin him as the type who could be easily seduced, but she mused how old habits died hard. Other males that she had dealt with in the past had been nothing more than a game to her. They were quick to succumb to that of mumbling, slow-brained fools with nothing more than the delicate batting of her pretty eyes. Often times, it was not necessary for her to win over their trust, their hearts, but it made the process so much more entertaining for her. She had yet to determine precisely what it was that she wanted from Caspian. For her, there was always something to want, and to seek - to gain. She did not waste her time with anyone otherwise. He would make for an excellent partner when the time came to face Teren, and there was no denying such as being the basis of what she sought from him at this time. However, would it hurt to aim for something a touch more personal, simply for the sake of being able to say that she had? There was no love inside of her to be spared. What resided there, instead, was something morbid and dark. She had become an expert, of sorts, at making it appear as though she cared to an extent far greater than she actually did. It would be amusing to try her luck at publicizing their partnership - if it came to that - as something more. Then, when the task of conquering Teren was said and done with, it would make the imprint that she left behind far more permanent. It all came down to whether or not he was willing to be fooled. At long last she turned her sights away from the beautifully pigmented tree, casting an equally beautiful pair of eyes over her lithe shoulders to spare another glance in Caspian’s direction. “Have you changed for the better?” The question was up for interpretation, but she said not a word more as the silence progressed, delicately spinning on her heel and retracing her steps back to him.

She slowed the closer that she neared, pausing when she was positioned at his side. “Or does a piece of the past remain inside of you . . .” She stilled, muscles tensed, angling her muzzle upwards and then pressing the tip of her nose gently against the space where his heart would be, drawing away as quickly as she had neared. “Keeping you as what you were, what you are, despite how much you wish to claim that you have, in fact, changed.” Even the best of the best were still incapable of keeping the past where it was supposed to be. So many were unable to change, to actually change, because of something that held them back: be it a specific event, or a specific face that resurfaced to the forefront of one’s memory no matter how much they attempted to bury it away. He had said himself that there were some things he did not want to discuss, but she was not asking him to elaborate. The question could be danced around, and answered in a variety of ways. That was why she was not yet finished. “In truth, it matters little to me whether or not you are honest in saying that you have changed, for I know not of how you once were. The fact that you say that you cared, in the past tense, is enough to satisfy me for the time being. I look forward to, perhaps, getting to know you - to understand you - so that we can ensure that Teren is added to the list of things you only used to care about; we can bury him in your past where he undoubtedly should have stayed.” She would leave it at that for now, letting her words sink in any way that he wished for them to. He would be on his way, surely, to realizing the kind of deceptive little serpent that she was. He could trust her, depending on how he liked to define the term. She was an excellent ally to have. Even more excellent an ally to try and keep.

[I'm sorry for how annoyingly late this reply is. For a while there I was under the impression that it was your turn to post? -shrugs- Also, I've been very busy with school and things of the like. I haven't had as much time for roleplay as I'd like.]

It seemed like the pair of them would never cease their sinister dance. Individually, they were both monstrous, and the atmosphere around them was unnerving because of it. She was almost certain that at one point, perhaps two, she had been forced to resist the urge to sink her teeth into the tender flesh of his neck. He reminded her of Teren more and more as the seconds continued to tick by. Her hatred for the brute in question was powerful, capable of consumption, but she refrained from taking out such spite on anyone other than Teren himself. It was laughable that Caspian felt the need to question whether or not she'd end up being foolish. Of course, the accusation, itself, was sensible. These days, it was getting difficult to be certain that you could simply take someone's word. She didn't expect that he'd be willing to believe her when she said she wanted to be a part of bringing an untimely death to the Erenyx Alpha; when it came down to it, she'd be able to show him just how serious she was about it. Then he'd have no reason to question her motivation any further.

"Your concern is understandable, but unnecessary. If you so much as tried to keep me away from the fight, doing all of the dirty work for yourself, then we would have a problem." She smiled, then, as sweet as the smell that radiated from the lavender trees, as though she had not just made a promise - a threat - that she would turn on him in no more than a second if he double-crossed her. She was doing something unfitted to her nature: placing a small portion of her trust into this male, her nonexistent blind faith, in the hopes that it'd bring her closer to the much anticipated fight against Teren. She wanted to be involved in that fight when it happened. She wanted to be among those lucky enough to stand over top of his wounded body, smirking that smirk of hers, rejoicing in the demise of the deadly King. Nothing, she mused thoughtfully, would be more satisfying than the images of that scene that fluttered through her head. Although she needed Caspian for the time being - he would, ultimately, bring her closer to her goal, and faster - she would not quarrel with having to turn on him. She would surrender a piece of her devilish spirit if it meant he would do the same; they both had every reason to seek the shedding of blood. She preferred it to be Teren's blood, but she wouldn't be faced with any kind of misery if it ended up being somebody else's blood first and foremost. Right now, she looked at him and saw something akin to a partner in crime. Once Teren was dead, however, he would cease to be of any relevance. Until then, she looked forward to feeding off of his life source, manipulating him in any way, shape, or form that she possibly could.

It was only fair that, after having endured her plentiful a question, he was free to ask her a few questions of his own. She reflected back upon her history with Teren, mulling over all of the details that, with time, she had allowed to fade into nothing more complex than mildly annoying memories. "There was a time when I belonged to a pack of wolves called Cedar Grove, at which time Teren served as the Elite male of a neighboring pack, Maple Woods. It's quite funny, you might say, that his previous sovereign is now my sovereign instead. The former crown of Maple Woods, Alphess Quinn, now reigns in Helidos. Nevermind that for the time being, for it has little to do with how I came to know your brother." Her expression fell, irked by having to put her relationship with the menace into words. "I met him in neutral lands by nothing more than coincidence. I suppose that Teren saw a glimpse of the beloved Devil that existed within me, for I had proved worthy of knowing the plans that he had for Maple Woods: he wanted the crown for himself, and had every intention of destroying his Alphess to get it. In a sense, he got what he wanted, just not with the pack of his original focus. In the beginning, I didn't despise him entirely - I saw something enticingly wicked in his plans. I very well could be serving beneath him right now, had he chosen his words more carefully. He said he'd make out of me nothing more than a pathetic mother; such is the extent of a female's worth in his eyes, after all. As soon as the rotten words were out of his mouth, I sought to sever his tongue and, more importantly, his life." There was no mistaking it: Banshee could hold a grudge. She could muster every ounce of hatred that filled her veins, and she could direct it towards a single being with enough intensity to burn down an entire forest if her anger could be turned into fire. There was so much potential for her to lose her mind, and to go mad with the pursuing of revenge. It was a good thing that she was clever; it was what saved her from going insane with sadism. Now, she was a contained demon. Traces of sadism still infected her blood, poking and prodding at her brain, but she knew how to calm it - how to make it submit. Outwardly, she was this elegant, poised angel with a death wish, chasing after her fellow monsters, bringing them to their knees.