níðhöggr

@nidhoggx

dark elf turned mindless dracaenae turned divine, ancient, drow/dark elf aligned.

76 posts

As ruthless as the drow could be, they weren't without their own hearts. Evanuris would not placate the other's grief, though the rage inspired by it was something of a fascination to her. In The Weaver's web, they all had their parts to play. Araushnee had been a Goddess of prophecy and foretelling, a prodigy of the Graeae, and as the leader of the Dark Seldarine, it made her all the more formidable. Evanuris would never assume to speak Lloth's secret desires, but in her heart, she recognized that her ancient and deified friend would have hoped that Ayi'ig would someday be the vessel she'd call home. What else would the Queen have been conditioned for? Why else would Lloth have helped her for so long? Still, it was the chaotic nature of Evanuris' patron to be consistently misunderstood, so where this thread would lead was ultimately beyond the driver's understanding.

"I began searching for a suitable place when I arrived, spent some time carving away an appropriate antechamber, and slowly but surely converts have found their way here." The creep of Lloth's influence over a domain previously absent of her devotion was intoxicating in its own right. She looked sideways at the man on his knees and saw some humor in the vision of the dragon brought low. Had he no pride? Then again, even Lloth's fellow companions within the Dark Seldarine were made to kneel before their dark leader. "It won't surprise you to hear that people in this realm are desperate to have their ambition acknowledged and rewarded. The fringed find their way into Her web sooner or later." Evanuris and Níðhöggr were astute examples of souls that had been ostracized from a world that didn't understand all that they were, or could have been. "Things are changing once more, Lloth was the first to awaken from her Uthenera with Ayi'ig's appointment, but the others stir too. Eilistraee has already interfered in Lloth's affairs, not once now, but twice; Kiaransalee also turned her mad gaze upon Her web. Vhaeraun, the cutthroat son, is skulking about." Naturally, the Handmaiden had threads laid everywhere, and her spies laden along these silken strands. "Have you felt them?"

Ayi'ig was a Queen, reduced to an instrument; many of the original drow raised with the aid of Lloth spoke of how she had served her time, played her part; it incensed the dragon who had only known the Queen and the world she had crafted. Crystalline spires imbued with darkness, legions of the Underdark at her beck and call, civilizations within it conquered and tempered to her command; despite all this, she was deduced to a pawn who had served their part. Níðhöggr may have grieved, somewhat openly, but the dracaenae turned divine did not survive so long under the extension of a queen's ideal for him; the malice striker and former oath breaker was cunning in his own right. So, quietly, he let these dark elves and founders speak their piece and the dragon would merely indulge and listen. The time of the dragon was not yet upon them, but if Lloth had any sense, she would not see him as an adversary but one to mend an entente within. Freedom came with Ayi'ig's death, as painful as it could be for Níðhöggr, the dragon was no fool to squander an opportunity when it was presented.

"And you are their kindred mentor, guiding these children's ambitions to the veneration of Lloth." He would not be impressed, solely on the basis that Evanruis was right; this realm was easy to nudge to mold into the ways of the Weaver's web. Blind ambition nurtured towards Lloth's will, if only the others on the Triumvirate weren't so holier against these mortals, perhaps they could have been accredited with the thought themselves. Níðhöggr was their guardian, their fire, a sentinel who kept quiet within the matters of politics and conquering; he was a warrior, but he was learning to play the game upon the board. "The Dark Maiden's whispers are lost to me," a truth he'd indulge for Evanuris, Eillistraee was elusive to the dragon, "Kiaransalee is slippery, she'll align herself with any to destroy Lloth's web." Níðhöggr was well aware he needn't explain that to the Handmaiden, but it allowed the dragon to stand from his kneeling place, facing the Handmaiden head on. How often the shadows had ushered him between the realms and yet how often they obscured him from these gods who threatened to trample upon what he cherished.

Comic Con 2015 Portraits

#face #if more cowboy pics surface im contacting my lawyer charles

@nidhoggx location: New Temple to Lloth, Roman Catacombs notes: as promised kiss kiss

Delicately laid threads about the catacombs let the drider know of an intruder, though Evanuris would have Níðhöggr's presence from an event greater distance. It wasn't as though the dragon did anything to disguise himself, but as he walked, the silken fibers discreetly pulled taut again in case anyone followed him. In a strange, foreign realm where Evanuris sought to give a distant Goddess something of a foothold, one could not be too careful. She had survived more wars than Evanuris cared to remember and taken the lives of plenty, both in her own name and the Dark Seldarine's.

Evanuris remained in her chambers for a time as her threads alerted her to Níðhöggr's travels as he ventured deeper into the sanctum, seemingly drawn towards its altar. The catacombs were scarcely reminiscent of the Underdark, much less hostile, but Evanuris had taken some delight in bringing forth fauna and beasts that felt more like home. Fungi and lethality, the dark was far more entertaining when it was deadly.

She stepped from the shadows of an alcove and quietly wondered only to herself what might have brought the dragon from whatever cave he'd been slumbering in. "A man's place is on his knees when in front of our Lady's devotion," Evanuris commented playfully as she rounded the statue of the spider, a pendant of her holy symbol draped fluidly across her neck. A small cult was beginning, a meager beginning, but a beginning just the same. Harellan and perhaps Blair among them; it seemed Lloth's message appealed to the outcasted and alienated. "you missed worship." The blood that stained the altar had already dried.

An ancient creature who had long dwelt in the confines of the Underdark, Níðhöggr was woefully out of place within the mortal realm. The Otherworld, now overrun with Abyssal creatures offered some familiar resonance, but the dragon soon turned to something that would offer the starkest remembrance towards what his life was currently missing. Clumsy in his anonymity, the dracaenae turned divine never attempted to conceal his presence in this world; the shadows often aided him if ever someone attempted to confine him to this world.

He walked further into the sanctum, taking in each carefully laid out detail, some which replicated the temples deep within the Underdark, and some newly established; a nod to the fresh foothold in this world. Shadows shrouded him, falling over his shoulders as he walked further towards the altar, pausing before it as the dragon noted the iron miasma of dried blood, noted the rust-colored ichor which stained it. A pawn, that was what the Founder had called Ayi'ig and Níðhöggr attempted not to grimace before the statue of Lloth as he was reminded of such comment. She had wrought salvation from the mindless beast he'd become and it was time for Níðhöggr to choose his next step; the Queen would not come to be miraculously resurrected, she'd done her part under Lloth's guidance and the dragon was now alone.

In spirit, not in presence, Evanuris now sweeping forth from the shadows; another creature who found comfort within them. Matching her energy, Níðhöggr was well-versed in the almost petulant pendulum swing of drow politics, he knew when to firmly respect something and when to nudge and agitate, "Some would say I'm more dragon than man." How long had he writhed and wasted away on the shores of Náströnd feasting on the flesh and bones of other oath breakers? This was the part where he'd ease into the customs of respect, he was still a pillar within dark elf society and Lloth was their Goddess; Níðhöggr kneeled. "And how long have you been holding worship?" It seemed the Handmaiden had already found a rhythm within this fresh temple for the spider goddess.

who: @nidhoggx where: The Otherworld

It had been a long time since Lia had stepped foot within the Otherworld, it had become a strange land to her and with the death of Ayi'ig and Titania, things had changed greatly from the time of her exile. She felt as if she still hadn't belonged, the dark elves had taken dominance over the land brewed from fantasy as they could hold the monsters back but there was someone she sought, not moved by motivations of Fey ambassador work but as she understood what it was like to have to adapt to circumstances beyond choice. Approaching the Aspect, she lifted the tea towel that draped over the apple pie she baked. "I hope you like desert, it's the way to every mortals heart but I can't speak for dragon kind." A quip played on her lips, despite her growing closeness with one of his kind.

"It's not safe for you to wander all this way to try and bribe me with deserts," despite unyielding words, the dracaenae standing in a statuesque way as he took watch over the perimeter of the dark elves court, there was the faintest inkling of a smirk upon Níðhöggr's face. The dark elves, the Triumvirate, so often they were up to date where the high elves and the mortals were concerned and it was within that the dragon knew of her position. "Though you play the role of ambassador well." He relaxed, even subtly, sheathing his weapon, "I don't think I've ever had apple pie," no matter his current leniency towards Lia, the dracaenae could not offer her brief sanctity in the court; they'd have to brave the fringes of the Otherworld, sprawling with abyssal creatures and now homeless demons.

#lia #c.#perfect as always bb

lunanightshadex

who: @nidhoggx where: The Woods, outside of claimed territory near Luna's cottage

It is the Goblins that tell her of the Dracaenae's appearance in Rome, he is a famed figure in the Underdark and she knows of his close allyship with the slain Ayi’ig, Drow society wasn't known for its capacity of friendships but rather a loyalty that was was borne out of reverence, it is a deep respect that Luna carries for Ayi'ig still even if the Hollowborn knows of her true species, the ideals that she was raised on have not become lost and it is not forgotten what Ayi'ig has done for the Drow. She finds Nidhogg staring in contemplation at the shadowy woods that she has found her home in and she wonders if he thinks of the World Tree. He is not an easy creature to approach but she is trained to never show fear or allow space for it. "There are crimes that have to be answered for, things that haven't been set right, if you require my blade, I am at your assistance."

"How honorable for you to come forward only after her death," deflectors and traitors found themselves filing forward after Ayi'ig's assassination; either out of mockery or out of their own twisted grief. She was the latter, one who had chosen her fey lineage over the dogmatic principles of the drow and perhaps if Faerinaal hadn't nudged the dracaenae to pivot towards a new light, opinions formed outside of his affiliations to the assassinated Queen, he'd have likely struck her down without pause towards any leniency. Níðhöggr stood, so often the dragon fled to his place of rebirth, Náströnd; but he'd learned to come to the fringes of the fey forest when the demonic beasts and infernal creatures were too loud for him to clear his head. "I know you mean well, Luna," it's the briefest inclination that the dragon will sway from upholding what he believed the Queen would have wanted; Luna's head. "Have you heard any whispers?" Each sordid answer towards Ayi'ig's questionable murder was presented with scathing silence from the Underdark; whoever did it, had gone seemingly mute.

Ayi'ig had been but a pawn in the world of Lloth's choosing. They all knew this, and even Faerinaal, who believed that Lloth was still there to guide them through the hands of her chosen leaders, knew that Ayi'ig had her end. Whether or not it was to remain her end would be seen. "You see things too small, Nid. There are worlds beyond ours, Ayi'ig a tool in another storyline. Don't find your loyalty misplaced in a figure that used to be."

"And am I to replicate the Founder's great journey?" All Nid had ever known was the Underdark, the dark crystalline spires of Queen Ayi'ig's world; they'd fabricated it together with the help of the Founder and the other original drow. They'd conquered other places, subjugated creatures to their demands, but the dracaenae had stayed faithfully beside the queen, an Aspect ignorant to the hundreds of realms around them. "What is meant to become of this world if we all abandon it?" Nidhoggr had trouble letting go.

MARCEL GERARD LEGACIES — Season 4, Episode 15

"So the title of hunter remains in my hands, Nidhoggr," she taunts, an edge of playfulness on her tone even as her smile turns into a pointed smirk. There is a lightness to her words that had not been present before, sharpness still present on her gaze but lightened by the lifted weight of her self-destruction. She is born for violence, just like the dracaenae, but there is a difference on her standing, now that she has decided that she wants more than just the violence she has brought so far. "It's been entertaining in a way I am not used to. Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"I did not know it was something to win over," this makeshift title of hunter versus hunted; there was violence carved within them that established them as both. "I'm making an attempt," it was genuine, not something duplicitous as they stood and chatted, two aspects within a flock of sordid vampires; plus, the entirety of Rome. "Are you not well-versed with these parties?" Rumors were one thing about an archdruid, but there was something tender about learning from Dionaeia firsthand.

#dionaeia #c.#e: krampus

"I was created to serve, to be a Seraphim of vengeance, a guardian, an Erinyes. I am most comfortable within the dark, among violence." She had yet to know anything but. Which was to say Nidhoggr and Dionaeia had managed to already show her a glimpse of what could be, of what she never had, with herself guarding the 5th circle. For some odd reason they always managed to find one another, to really cope with what was happening, together. Tisiphone showed the tiniest of emotions then as her eyebrows furrowed together in surprise and concern. So the war had struck them all down in some way. "What happened?" She showed little concern to her own emotions. Instead, the Erinyes remained somewhat stoic, incapable of truly tapping into her emotions like that, but for him? For Dionaeia? She couldn't thank them enough for accepting her for who she is.

Unable to return that embrace, the Erinyes pulled away gently. "Nothing wounds me. I'm facing a moral dilemma of sorts. My sister Megaera killed my other sister, Alecto. Both of my sisters, despite one still being alive and kicking, are dead to me." For the firs time in forever Tisiphone felt her eyes watering, something she could only answer with wrath. "My father has abandoned us all, so this is me, standing alone right now, together with the last of the Seraphim." She approached him then, one hand gently brushing over his neck to calm herself. For some odd reason she wanted to be the one in control after having lost so much, "now, your turn. Distract me."

His attempts at holding strong to his impassivity fell short, this petulant dance that merely held Tisiphone and Nidhoggr at arms length, when they should just give in to what both felt. A strange fondness, a recognition, Nidhoggr felt no obligation to any depths of their relationship but an odd dependence hinged on what naturally spliced it's way between them, no matter anyone's stagnant denial upon the very feeling. "Where we were both created to serve, I'd like to believe that's where most of our similarities end." It was an abysmal existence to be created for one such task; where the Erinyes were created to enact vengeance upon this earth, Nidhoggr had been crafted as a denizen of Alfheimr to keep guard over slumbering guards. A pathetic life, something that had become agonizing; even his thoughtless writhing beneath the world tree, chained to Nastrond's shores had been a mercy compared to the life he led alongside Thanatos and Hypnos. "My servitude was enacted over Gods as they were guided to uthenera and when that ended, I was a betrayer, an oath breaker. Ayi'ig saved me from my broken mind, a mindless creature beneath Yggdrasil, but in that act I became a willing servant." He frowned, how simple and fragile such fine line was; the line between willing servant and proposed prisoner. "My duty ended the other day when she was assassinated. There are still no leads."

The Court of Drow, the Triumvirate, they'd all attempted to overturn each lead, razing the Court, the Otherworld, and even the Underdark for a lead that had still not been unearthed. "The lines between what we accept and what we loathe are quite fragile," indicative of her moral dilemma and of his past; how he'd gone from dark elf to dracaenae to divine creature. Nidhoggr and Tisiphone simply confessed what gnawed at them and the aspect appreciated the lack of cloyingly sympathetic words; they were two violent creatures whose nature would not be changed nor mended by their unfathomable losses. "And shall I distract you with more stories?" A sarcastic quip, bogged down by their confessions as dark eyes trailed from her face to the hand that now created small paths along the plane of his neck.

A handmaiden's reputation preceded her, that was undeniably true, Evanuris had announced her presence upon her arrival to the Court of Drow for a reason. It was a warning shot, a lesson to those who stood in the Queen's Court that Lloth's gaze had fallen upon them. Entire cities had been razed in the past, most notably saw a league of sorcerers who'd overthrown their matrons and took control. Males that put themselves above the priesthood, a natural insult and slight that required the population be culled in its entirety. Naturally, things had not quite degenerated to that state, but burning the crop to keep the field from being spoiled was at times the most sensible route.

"Then watch closely." Evanuris' hand lifted towards Nidhogg as the two began their dance, more traditional than what the rest of the city had taken to but neither the dragon nor the drider needed to sink to base levels to indulge in their formation. Power sought power, it was only natural, it wasn't hard to see why Ayi'ig had peered upon the shores of Nastrond and saw opportunity in the mind of a dragon. Was there anything more fearsome than the sight of the drow mounted in the dragon's saddle? Unlikely, though there was something that had to be inherently more endearing about unbroken creatures; dragons did not yield and that was something Evanuris related to in resounded decree. "I'd be interested to hear what you've observed so far," more open ended than anything, "do I have any tells I should know? Any weaknesses I should know about?"

Nidhoggr had not witnessed a handmaiden's work directly, but he'd listened to the whispers, avoided the fates that be under Ayi'ig's thumb. The Queen had salvaged his fractured mind and for that alone he had knelt, a dragon who understood the power of a drow woman and the fury they could unleash if genuinely scorned and disrespected. A puzzle piece that was a monument of a dragon, yet he'd ebbed into the flow of their society with wretched ease; a blade and warrior more than he'd ever been a person, something with teeth and rage. Ayi'ig's death had catapulted him into something relatable to an existential crisis; being under her hand, enacting protection above her, had been all the dracaenae turned divine had ever known and though drow society still churned around him, it felt lackluster. Out of obligation, out of eons old duty, Nidhoggr would raise his stave to protect them, the royalties of drow who had surrounded Ayi'ig since the genesis of their brood; but it was only out of the respect of her memory.

A traditional dance bled forth between them, writhing bodies that jumped and swirled to the music around them were the very antithesis to their fluid movements; ancient creatures weaned on the traditions of ancient courts and rites. Nidhoggr shook his head, though an amused expression took hold of normally steely features, "No, I see no little foibles or tells; your impassivity is a vise." A pause as he dipped the Weaver in a dance that went against the brackish tone of music that pumped in the air, "Though some would say that alone is a tell, a weakness, even," he smiled; a creature who understood the games, understood his role, but still toyed with the directives expected of him.

#evanuris #c.#e: krampus

"Please, we both know you appreciate being challenged," Dionaeia says, a hand breaching the space between them to fall on the tantalizing belt that had been serving as quite the pleasant distraction as they spoke. Grin turning sly, she pulls him closer and tilts her chin up in yet another silent challenge for the dracaenae. Dionaeia can admit to herself that the challenge is more to amuse herself than anything, a constant dance at the edge of danger trying to figure out how far Nidhoggr is willing to bend or not. Midsommar, as ridden with regrets as it is, still haunts her and she wants. She wants endlessly, and hungrily, but she wants him to break the tension, if only to feel the satisfaction of knowing her desire is not unilateral. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."

"On the contrary, Dionaeia," a public event at such a grand spectacle warranted the dragon to tag along where the Triumvirate was concerned, "I'm not here out of selfish obligations, but you are a sight to behold." The Otherworld had fallen to abyssal depths, unstable and harder to navigate, Nidhoggr liked to believe that was why he'd not seen the Archdruid within it. His hand came up, palm closing around Dionaeia's wrist as she fiddled with the belt that wound around his waist, "Are you enjoying yourself so far?" The night was young and had been tedious so far, the bloodshed was tame and Nidhoggr wondered if things were beginning to finally look up.

#dionaeia #c.#e: krampus

While the party itself was something of a let down, Evanuris was not above the indulgences of a place like this. Vampires and men had a commonality between them in that they had their place and their uses; where the sanguine were seasoned opposition, their lesser kin were hardly as such. The Handmaiden would point to the fragility of their initial vessels, mortals could only contain so much, but as of yet this variation of Nyarlathotep's cursed children weren't as disappointing as she had expected them to be.

"Oh please, Níðhöggr, you and I are old enough to know that everything is a battlefield; especially the dance floor." Spoken more in jest than anything else, the drider moved with fluidity and ease, a weaver, dancer, and warrior mottled into one. Daemon though she was, drow she had once been, and noble elf before that. Movements, be they on the battlefield, dance floor, or elsewhere, were not at all unfamiliar to her. Led as she was into the midst of the fray, the two struck out from the others in the most telltale of ways; Evanuris with the complexion typical of a drow, angular features and silver hair that offset the violet neons that radiated above. "But don't fret, I'm happy to lead." This was another thing that the Underdark was missing, in the spirit of conquest Evanuris would permit herself to indulge, if only for the night.

At it's basic level, the society of drow was matriarchal, it was instinctive for him to respect a feminine creature over anything else; through Lloth and Ayi'ig's agreement he'd been freed and in tandem, he could respect Evanuris for what she represented with both the spider goddess and his assassinated queen. She was the cleaning crew on a simple level, sure, but Nidhoggr understood Evanuris was also an omen of tumultuous times for drow society; her presence was rattling not only in her demeanor but for what it constituted on a fundamental level. There was a reason he had often not crossed her path, for before Ayi'ig's demise it had not been entirely necessary.

"Then I hope to learn something from your formation," Nidhoggr bowed before they began; the dracaenae could not lie much like others tethered to divinity and his curiosity of Evanuris was not something hidden nor obscured as they began their dance. Reverence for the divine, for feminine authority, it was what Nidhoggr was weaned upon after his mind had been salvaged from the depths of Nastrond and Evanuris, though a daemonfey, was divinity femininity incarnate. "Your tells, your strengths, your weaknesses," it was void of threat and merely stated in jest as the beat around them picked up in tempo.

#evanuris #c.#e: krampus

Weakness was showing all of one's cards, the dark elf turned divine learned that long ago as the Queen and her legions, he amongst them, conquered the Underdark in a clean sweep. Felandaris has been one of the first conjured, he rejected the pungent flavor of weakness and though Nidhoggr grieved openly; he'd tear off one's head if they were to dare call him lesser than. In this moment, carved from their lament, Nidhoggr was sure neither would speak of it elsewhere again. "As the Architect of the Triumvirate, as the Queen's loyal adversary for so eons and eons, I say to you; you won't have to press forward alone." They were all behind Felandaris, the Devout, the Founder; and Nidhoggr's loyalty transcended from the Queen to those she had first claimed within the brood of drow.

At this point if nothing had been uncovered, if no evidence had been brought forward, and if no testimonies had come forward, then it was likely that none ever would. While Felandaris resented the notion that someone was not going to pay for this crime, he had no choice but to accept that any member of the triumvirate could also be targeted. More than every, the Architect and indeed all the drow would need to be hypervigilant in the days to come. "I knew that we could depend on you, old friend." Felandaris offered as he braced the other's shoulder lightly, "I should retire elsewhere, there's much to prepare for what's to come next." Naturally, the drow's ambitions did not end with grief.

end.

#felandaris #c.

Evanuris did not grieve outwardly, the kill had been clean and efficient. Lloth was pleased, Ayi'ig's death meant that she had displeased the Weaver, something Evanuris had suspected would come to pass for sometime. All the same, the Queen had been a strong, proud, and reverent woman that was worthy of respect. Much like Evanuris she'd had a difficult life, wrought with strife and war, and the end she had met was undeserving of her. The drow with their pyres, their empty words, and their funerary rites- Evanuris not only respected it, she adored it, she worshipped at the altar of the ambition the dark elves showed in the Queen's death. And yet, in the very quiet of her shadowy heart she'd remember the little girl who grew to raise an empire.

"Well, they aren't without their uses at least." Evanuris pointed out fangs and bodies that were not warm, but weren't as cold as she'd been led to believe. "But sadly it looks like for the moment no one here has any intention of trying to kill us." Nidhogg lacked the ability to act with any real degree of subtly, at least when he was transformed; it was quite impossible for a dragon to sneak up on someone and assassinate them. A spider however? That was entirely different. Still, a dragon was a dragon was a dragon, a powerful asset and someone that had suited the Queen well. "Until they do, I have an alternative suggestion: dance with me."

Where the weaver before him was obligated only to the spider goddess, Nidhoggr had sworn fealty to Ayi'ig alone. She had freed his mind, saved him from being a writhing beast hellbent on lost revenge; a fractured mind healed and imbued with loyalty. As time passed in the Underdark, Nidhoggr flourished in the tenebrous shadows of their conquering, legions bowed to the Queen, drow society grew, and the dragon had come to protect those the Queen ensnared within her inner circle. Those who had been there from the beginning, those resurrected from the slain elves of Hyperborea; he could respect the drow, but the aspect did not bow to them, he'd only ever bowed to his Queen.

Violence was a kindred act for the once dark elf, it sustained him, nurtured his quotidian life; this party lacked the bloodshed expected of a vampire rave and Nidhoggr lurked throughout each level as the drow triumvirate attempted to enact their own fun upon the castle. Evanuris was a surprise, the handmaiden of Lloth who spoke of such dreary celebration and surprised him further but asking him to dance. An act so void of violence, a black widow lulling their prey; it was what Nidhoggr could only assume was the predecessor to something far more treacherous, but his curiosity bested him, "I'm more of a warrior than a dancer," his hand was held out to guide Evanuris to the floor regardless.

#evanuris #c.#e: krampus

"Warnings are for people who have something to lose," she wasn't aiming to be poetic, but pragmatic. No need to sugarcoat the ugly truth of her being more or less a lone wolf these days, with one sister dead and the other rogue. It would take thousand of years to fully adjust to that change, but no matter of time would ever quench her thirst for revenge against Megaera. Luckily Nidhoggr's appearance did make her smile, faintly, but visible no less. She could relate to the other reptilian like creature, my bad, the Dracaenae. "I was just trying to calm myself down, think of something else." His presence did help, quite a lot, actually, "I'm not here to trespass whatever part of this world you claim." For some reason she felt more separated from everyone, including Nidhoggr, than ever. "Do you... remember? Have they spared you?" She moved closer.

"Calm yourself?" the aspect chuckled, not at Tisiphone's expense, but considering the tumultuous hellscape that had become the Otherworld, he'd hardly consider it a place with a calming aura. They both had been gleaned from violence, however, so Nidhoggr could perhaps see the sliver of appeal in what she had meant. "Spared? It would be dangerous for me to revoke my memories," he'd seen the alternative, where Tiamat had come forth, even stronger than he, and crushed him akin to a bug; though not before making the dracaenae watch as his queen was slain. Time had reverted but Ayi'ig had not been spared and an abyssal hole remained in his heart, the reminder of his failure as the assassination of Ayi'ig still lingered heavily upon him. A hand came up, where normally it struck down violence upon others, the aspect now held her chin within his grasp, tender and concerned, "What is it that wounds you?" Memories, nostalgia; all dastardly pieces of being somewhat human and he could see the effect it had on the Erinyes that once dominated over the Inferno.

For all their continued encounters, for all that had happened in Midsommar, Dionaeia had not actually expected for Nidhoggr to seek her out. Tisi— The Erynie had made the effort during the war, yes, but back then they had been allies, as tentative as that had been. The dracanaea had never been anything but an enemy outside of the spells of Midsommar. Attractive as hell, fun to rile up and fight, but an enemy nonetheless. Even now, with the tentative peace between the dark elf and high elf court, she didn’t expect for him to seek her out. There is no stopping the answering grin that spreads through her lips as she raises her drink to her lips and takes a moment to gather her thoughts between sips, a tad too distracted by the harness around his waist.

“I thought you would appreciate the challenge,” she says deliberately, as if she had been waiting for him to find her, when in reality she hadn’t even realized he would have wanted her to seek him out.

Her mistake. And one she would not be repeating.

Enemies was a blurry subject for the dracaenae; there were those by obligation to the drow, those under his own penchant for violence, and some who merely found a dragon to be a superb enemy to rile. Nidhoggr had played such games before, indulged in the trivial sense of cat and mouse and found it effortless where Dionaeia was concerned. The aspect opposite of him grins and the dracaenae felt mildly victorious on the matter, shrugging, "A challenge? Now it seems we've taken five steps forward to take several steps back," teasing lilt; this party had been dreadfully boring, hardly any bloodshed as the party attempted to adhere to this frivolous reform of no harm against other. Whatever, the night was still young, and though his eyes were peeled where the drow Triumvirate was concerned, it was clear they had all ventured off to enjoy themselves where they could; and Nidhoggr would not abstain on the subject, either.

#dionaeia #c.#e: krampus

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