the new kings // "joining"

[PHOENIX]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; text-align: justify;"]☂ It seemed her brief queries of the ephemera of life would be catching up with her sooner rather than later. Death was here to greet her once more, metaphysically, as a guardian of the underworld was the first to enter her vision. How humorous, with gratuitous sarcasm. She evaded any sort of reaper as a lich, but now bound once more in a flesh body, a three-headed beast peered at her like an easy meal. Survival of the fittest and all, but she would be the one with the last laugh when this body's parasites or worms or whatever the fuck was decaying a live body took over their body next. A morbid victory, and really not one she should even be considering as she continued to observe the canid-like creature through a pain-narrowed gaze. They looked quite young. Had she the strength, she might have mustered a bark or a growl in whatever feral language she could now tap into, but protecting the dignity of a dying body she had only recently laid claim to was not high on her priorities. A chuckle sat in her throat, but without the effort of releasing it, she simply swallowed it back. Finding dry humor, little victories, brief satisfaction, in her own death was a unique quality at the least.

Her thick white tail swished across the winter grounds of its own accord, an action that briefly stilled her heaving lungs and pulled her watery eyes open. Of the heavy sense of nostalgia soaking into her bones, that was certainly a new sensation, a whitecap on an otherwise still lake. She had an entirely new appendage. She never foresaw herself falling into the shoes of a druid, trying to slip into nature and assimilate into its ways. Fire was her very core, destruction not a craving but a necessity. She was supposed to be a pyromancer, not some sort of fucking dog. A slender leg withdrew to gingerly lift a paw from the ground, sundrop eyes turning downward to stare at the unfamiliar extension of her new body. Despite her unblinking stare and admittedly weak concentration, fire did not circle her hand and pool in her palms. Not that she exactly had hands to summon it with anymore. Hell, for that matter, it didn't appear at all; in hand, paw, or otherwise. A shiver rattled her frame, somewhere between a visceral reaction to the realization and instinctual of her illness.

At the sound of approaching footfall, reddened ears would twitch involuntarily. A companion to the beast. Amber eyes flicked up from her paw to fall on a much softer sight. A collie was not exactly what she had in mind to be following behind a cerberus. Fearlessly, at that, as if they were acquainted. Wordlessly she watched Bex approach her, body too tense prior to show any signs of discomfort as she grew excruciatingly close. For a brief moment she considered what her exit of this body would be like - flipping a pair of spectral middle fingers at nature for letting the strong prey upon the - prey on her (she was not weak). But once more the lady of fate had other plans for her today. Sharp teeth did not part her flesh but instead gently blanketed her with leather, still warm with the heat of another body. Words followed suit, and although she should not be taken by surprise it given it was a tongue she could now speak, she was expecting something much more feral by a flash of teeth and tongue. She was expecting to be attacked, rather than spoken to. The name Venus was not one she recognized, although trying to recall it pressed at the dull ache in the back of her head. The collie's attention turned back to her and immediately she was enraptured, meeting Bex's gaze evenly. Her eyes were warm with concern, something she had never seen before in an animal. Or maybe she had just never noticed it before. Animals had always been lesser beings before, not ones she could openly commune with.

Her jaws parted to answer, but instead of words, black smog fell from her lips like drool. Her throat closed at the sudden sensation to be replaced with a deep cough, throwing her paws forward as the coughing fit shook her body. Drops of blood flew from her mouth as she did so, dotting the snow in front of her. "Ow, fuck," she croaked out, a brief shine of old habits even as her corporeal form worked actively against her. If her lungs weren't reeling from the sudden effort she would laugh at her first impression: cursing, blood and smoke leaking from between her teeth, hardly a welcomed traveler, huh? So she couldn't conjure flames to her - hands? feet? paws? Whatever they were. But she had enough energy to choke herself with smoke. Fantastic. Craning her head upward at Bex, she flashed a sheepish smile somewhere between an unspoken greeting and apology. She sat hunched over for a few more heartbeats, drawing in raspy breaths to soothe her badly aching lungs. Unsure whether she wanted to collapse into the snow just yet or not, she instead shifted her shoulders to draw the jacket further up on her back and flicked her gaze up to Bex and away from the flecks of red in the snow.

"S'all... peachy, ya'know?" First off, ew, her voice was radically different from what she had been expecting. For longer than this body had even been alive, longer than its parents lives, she had known a particular sound to belong to her. That had died with her body, unfortunately. Secondly, although a blatant lie told through heavily slurred words, she hoped her antic offered some respite to the girl fretting over her. She had nothing else to offer but even some sort of insight into this situation. She had no name she could give: her name had been replaced by a blinding headache. She could not offer her history, afraid of confirmations to the deaths of those she treasured (their names, in turn, fed the same headache consuming her own personal information). She could no longer conjure fire at will, unable to part from her lich form to summon as a burning plasma. No, she needed that energy too much right now. Before she keeled over she might as well offer a golden star with a comic sans "you tried" photoshopped over it. "Just lookin' for... Honestly? I dunno. Death sounds pr-eeeetty rad right about now." Her tongue was no longer twisted around itself, able to form coherent words, despite the fervent protest of her sore throat. The perfect time for classic self-deprecating humor, if there was any. "But 'm not gonna turn down a bed and some hot soup, either, babe."