graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ bonehead hyena

With a rose in vis beak, Vale lands upon a low-hanging branch in the Central Plaza. After several weeks (months? what is time to an immortal?) missing, perhaps a more flashy introduction was in order, but Vale didn’t quite feel like it. The psychotic breaks in the desert because of vis probably-dead ex-boyfriend and probably-dead best friend had finally run their course, but, naturally, Vale neglected to consider ve’d been replaced.

“ATTENTION, OH MY WEIRDOS, YOUR THREE-EYED ARDENT HAS RETURNED!” The rose drops from vis beak.

Ve jumps off the branch and shapeshifted into a bonefaced hyena, snapping the rose out of the air with vis teeth as vis paws land upon the jungle. The smells have changed (more birds?) since ve’d been gone. And there is… more food? The animals walking around look healthier than when Vale left, which implies they finally learned how to care for their frail mortal bodies.

That being said, why does anyone think Vale would give a shit about their “I’m so hungry!” and “I think my wound’s infected?” problems when ve’s a rotting immortal? Vale has been cursed longer than the longest-lived species upon this planet! If mortals need food, they shouldn’t expect Vale to understand or care. Especially if they’re a species that eats multiple times a day. Vale has more important things to worry about, like not accidentally possessing a Pittian’s body because it smells fresh.

“My, my, isn’t this an improvement! Some of y’all have learned to bathe and feed yourselves, must be a miracle worker around here.” Vale’s teeth snap around the rose, devouring it messily. The red petals stuck between vis teeth look, somehow, worse than blood.

“Glad to see my vacation in the desert had the intended affect! See? I was right! No need to bother me for trivial matters such as food and water anymore.” Cackling gleefully, Vale throws back vis head and soaks up the harsh midday sun. See? This is why Vale never bothered to worry while rampaging in the desert; nothing can go wrong if you don’t bother to plan anything good.

graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ bonehead hyena

“Ah, you must be that miracle worker.” Vale’s grey tongue worries out a petal, and ve spat it between vis paws. “You’re hired!”

The hyena’s three red eyes focus in on Olalla. Unsettling, given how the fleshness nature of vis boneface means ve never broke the eye contact for a blink. Ve considers regrowing some skin to wink, but, eh, why go through the itchy process for a fucking wink?

“Oh, so you do know who I am! If you go around asking people who they are, but then immediately follow up with an accusation that proves you know who they actually are, people will think you’re a moron. So? Who am I? A nameless idiot straight out of the desert or Ardent Vale of the Pitt? I think you just admitted to the latter.” Vale rolls vis eyes and vis whole head. “But! I like your work, if not your attitude! So the hiring offer stands; I’ve been looking for an imperator, and it’s so hard to spot a good one, even with three eyes, you know?”

Vale sighs dramatically, and attempts to drape a decaying paw over the smaller creature. If successful, ve will use that paw to bring Olalla’s hear closer to Vale’s muzzle. Unfortunately, Vale's rotting body leaves a trail of black goo on any flesh ve may or may not touch.

“Listen here, mkay? ‘Cause I won’t have you ruining a great opportunity for both of us. You are obviously good at the logistics, which I, admittedly, suck at.” Vale licks vis exposed teeth with a loud smack. “But I heard from a little birdy in the desert that’s about all you’re good at. Whatcha gonna do if I decide I want to kill you for usurping my throne?”

Times had come to a slow into The Pitt recent. Aegon was entertained by Olalla and Renlys's spar for leadership, but since then, the usual antics continued and that bored the horseman of death. He did not come to the mortal realm for mindless tasks and a daily routine, but for the thrill of inconsistency and the entertainment provided by the lesser beings that paraded before him. Thankfully, the animals usually succeeded. Lately though? Tsk. No. Not at all. With the consideration of heading back downstairs lingering on his mind, the lion dearly wished for something to happen.

And it did.

Jaws parted in a yawn as Aegon meandered through the territory. Disinterested eyes traced the horizon as he walked the jungle's edge, awaiting his next venture. The border, which is what usually provided satisfaction, was rather barren today. Displeased with the situation, sunken in facial features turned towards the north eastern part of the territory and began to walk.

Paws graced the central plaza's edge shortly after. As soon as he stepped foot into the plaza, a screech bellowed from above. The familiar, high-pitched tone was followed shortly by a slam into the jungle floor and maned features swiveled to stare down the dark figure. Ve was a prominent figure during Aegon's arrival and what peaked his interest in The Pitt initially, so to hear their gracious voice (although nowhere near the voice of an angel) was gratifying. Even a subtle smirk rose on the lion's maw, something that was a rarity. Things were truly getting interesting.

He made no move. With most situations, he merely watched. Every gloat and false plan was a travesty. yet somehow a pleasurable experience, to listen to. In his silence, another voice ripped on through. His stance shifted to gain a view a both of them as Olalla began to vilely defend The Pitt's improvements. Aegon was impressed by their valiant effort. It appeared they were keeping their word on The Pitt's prosperity.

Even so, their blunt effort to disown Vale's changes to The Pitt was quickly met with rebuttal... Mixed with acceptance? An offer? Then a threat? Aegon's browline furrowed in confusion, but his eyes watched in anticipation. His hindlegs lowered to the floor and bottom slide down onto the ground nearby. A tail swayed as he listened, awaiting Olalla's response. He wanted to push but held his tongue.

His daunting, slitted eyes focused in on Vale as their final proclamation came to be. The logistics ran through his head. If either killed one another, that was one soul heading down to the underworld. Orbs bounced between the two in interest when a thought emerged. What about both? Not dead, but alive. Keeping both of them alive would create a situation that would give him the upperhand. Souls, entertainment, and a bit of fun for himself. Like Vale pointed out, they were destined to be intertwined and fit together well. Perhaps... but Olalla would need to agree.

Hence Aegon took the liberty of swaying the situation. "Your offer is intriguing," he mused, breaking his usual silence, "but Olalla has rights to their leadership after your disappearance." Logistics, as ve mentioned, were no their thing. This sudden discharge of information was very informal. "Perhaps the playing field should leveled, rather than both of you wagering your descent." A negotiation rather than a proclamation.

WHEN I LOOK IN THE MIRROR,
KNOW WHAT I SEE?
THE ANIMAL IN ME!

"Jesus, Vale. What the fuck did you do this time?" Her harsh voice cut through the air as she walked past pittians who had gathered around, as she saw it, the clown couple. She hated Olalla. But Vale she tolerated to an extent. But as she approached the duo she could feel her anger spike at the words spoken. Ardent? Ardent? "Whoever let you lead years ago was fucking senile, Vale, I'm going to be honest." She glanced to Aegon, but quickly redirected her attention to the two.

And yet, after two years, it wasn't like she could say anything now. She was dead for that time. But she saw the looks on the Pittians' faces as she wandered the plaza. They had been struggling for a while, it seemed. And as much as she hated Olalla, he was doing a good job in getting them back into power. It was more than what she could say for Vale's leadership, even though she only knew vey lead for a while before leaving, as per words of a few upset pittians she talked to.

Her eyelid twitched as Vale offered the current Ardent something, as well as threatened him, and she let a quiet growl leave her jaws. "I suppose it's all up to our pretty little thing of an Ardent to decide." If they both worked together, who knew what The Pitt could achieve. Hell! Maybe she'd actually step past Marauder rank, unlike how it was when Gael ran the place.

graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ bonehead hyena

“Hey, don’t diss my boy Dante like that.” Vale’s neck cracked as ve turned to look at Kold, but vis voice lacked bite. After leaving like ve had, Vale agreed. Who the fuck left a nutcase in charge? Sure, ve’s good at blowing shit up (including a pyramid in the Pitt’s own territory), yet vis talent for violence is the only stand out component of vis resume.

However. Vale has never given up. Otherwise, the curse blackening vis blood wouldn’t be torture.

Vale attempted to lean against Olalla, using the behemoth’s bulk as resistance to pop vis shoulder and neck back into alignment. “Ahhh, see, this is exactly how we’ll work together. I really don’t want to explain the metaphor, but I’m sure Aegon, Kold, and Jor can figure it out. Just waiting on you.” With a sticky grey tongue, vale licked vis third eyeball. A grisly, unintentional wink.

“Your thriving Pittians say they’re agreeing with me.” Vale rolled vis red eyes. “Really opened yourself up to that one. No easy answer like rhetorical question, dummy to salvage that self-roast.”

“The Coalition, you mean,” Vale corrected. “The main warmongers left the Typhoon—they may hate our guts, but the wound isn’t fresh. Captain Morrison’s a dark horse, but nobody wins a battle by their lonesome. But the Coalition’s run by Stryker and Ninazu’s son. Coalition’s in a better position.”

“Wait, who said anything about digging graves?” Vale sounded puzzled–genuinely so, because death threats are as casual as flinging a gore-slicked arm over someone’s shoulder. “Actually, yeah, probably me. No offense, but you’re too much of a wuss to bring it up. You seriously responding to a death threat by saying your own death would inconvenience me?”

The rotting hyena cackled. Then ve removed the paw slung over Olalla’s shoulder and tapped vis forehead. “Here I thought I was the bonehead!”

“So I’ll spell it out for me. You’re a logistician, and you’re running a society built on literal slave labor.” Dragging vis tongue over vis teeth, Vale cut the grey flesh against white bone. Black sludge oozed down vis chin. “Eventually, you’ll run into a resource acquisition problem. Or a resource retainment problem. Or whatever shit accountants say for the tax write-off when the business runs on blood.”

“I don’t think you’re the type to get your paws dirty.” Vale rubbed vis chin in a mockery of a thinking face, mucking up vis paws with rot. “You’ll delegate. But whoever you raise will want your spot. And they’ll have the violent charisma Pittians adore. Like me, these marauders will know violence better than you. Unlike me, they’ll naively think they can handle the bullshit, because running a slave empire only requires sadism and creativity, right? You know better. I know better.”

Vale held out the paw, then looked down and remembered how bloody (sort of? bloody? is that blood that comes out of vis veins?) ve made it for a theatrical whim. “Ugh, see what I mean? Seriously. If I wanted you dead, I would’ve already challenged you. Let’s work together, mkay?”