Cruel where the fathers that abandoned them both. Virgil felt spite welling inside her blood. It boiled into an anger that she had struggled with. There were no funeral for her father- just a crowning corpse a pile in his home- and his skull the jewel to the crown. He had died, he had crooned the corpse god's words and rotted away; She felt bitter, but it was only the rumble of distraction from the festival that kept her from stumbling off and carving his skull into something more useful: but he were a waste- and it were only fitting his body waste away.

It was the howl that broke Virgil's concentration, tending to the home of her father; turning it into a garden was a careful process. Toiling soil over the melting flesh of her father's kills. She would dig up the bones later- but for now the remnants of him would be made into something from Virgil's own hands. She stopped her workings, and looked towards the sound- watching the bone-white pup stumble between the corpse wall and closer- further in. Well, that wouldn't do, would it?

"you reek of sorrow, stranger" Virgil hummed through the vision that befell her. Sickly green eyes spoke of rot looked at and saw more than what was physically present. A lingering taste of the other's aura, the determine set- sorrow that dragged at the stranger's shoulders. The acolyte cocked her head towards the stranger. Giving them a moment to speak- rebuff if the so wished . "What a place to get lost in," she hummed out

It strook her, how similar they were in that moment; an odd look took presence in Virgil's features. The hyena-wolf mix; she was meant to be cunning, ruthless, she was meant to be a never ending stream of obscurity. A witch who only spoke in half truths, but for once she felt that same mannerism fail her at the bluntness in the other pup's tone, a cock in her head stuck rigid, a rictus grin along her maw but the eyes- spoke of something off; something crawling- [b]worming[/i] it's way inside her skull- an infection to the telling's of rot- empathy: what a strange bazar concept: it made her feel more alive than the thrum of a god under her feet.

"You're father left you here to die then," It was blunt, and as the smile faded then, the posture of the witch lagged into something less non-threatening. Instead Virgil withdrew on herself, a weakness only allowed in the presence of the moon now lay bare before a stranger. Children, the both of them: yet the world asked so much. Took already just the cusp of everything.

Virgil wondered if this was what it was like to look into a mirror.

"it's true, many come here only to die" Virgil muttered, and she felt the burrowing thing under her feet coo into her head, a mantra that spoke of blood and war, that shone through death and took from her- comforted her in equal measure: it called on her- beckoned her to welcome the other into the same fold. Only time would tell if they would make it- live past their own lifespan in the service to the devotion of war everyone here submitted to.

"This place is eternal, a stain- blight on the world" Virgil spoke- in a warning before she offered. "But it could also become your sanctuary, you're haven and family, if you welcome it" She breathed, and a great sigh filtered between her maws made each bone in her ache with a sudden drag of burden along her shoulders.

"My name is Virgil, what is yours?"