Blackfeather Woods all those who are not us, are our enemies

She is ready to leave. With Teaghlaigh defeated, or so she believes, moral is at its high as the wraith ready's her departure. But she does not leave without the very reason she does so, those who she leaves for. Her son. The woman has little doubt within her mind that her child will follow, for the temptation of a mantle so grand as she is willing to give him will not simply slip from the ambitions of the boy. He is not overly calculative, but he knows where the opportunities are at; Blackfeather no longer holds a home for her and her kin, and with that, any chance that those of her own blood have at grasping ultimate power are slim to none. Damien will not let it happen, she is sure she does not need to remind @Atshen of that. The boy has experienced first hand the hate on which the blood of his mother is so vilely detested, there is little arguement as to why he should stay. Nemesis does not expect him to waver hesitant to leave a place he knows he will never be able to rule, and next to nothing that will urge him to stay. Summoning the child with a short, private howl, she paces the borders of the dark woods in anticipation as to what will come.

Litter crunched underpaw as Atshen waded through the shadows of Blackfeather Woods. He was in relatively good spirits and had spent a portion of his day meandering through the Brotherhood's claim. Atshen was not a wolf who spent his time productively. Instead, keeping to his mother's claim, he'd wander most days until he came across something that caught his attention. This usually came in the form of a woodland creature and Atshen would make slow work of its demise. 

Today was different though, and Atshen was informed of this as his mother's summonings drew him to the borders. He heeded her call almost instantly, bringing himself to her position upon the borders swiftly. Well-toned muscles rippled under his dark coat as he navigated through the uneven terrain, carrying himself dutifully to answer Nemesis' beckoning. 

"Mother," rumbled Atshen affectionate once she was in view. Out of respect, the Silencer lowered himself in submission, his tail hinging, and his ear flat as he proceeded to place himself before her. Curiosity swam about his irises, but he did not voice such questions once he reached up to nip affectionately at her chin. Instead, Atshen pulled away, his eyes speaking volumes despite his placid expression.

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She embraces his affection with a return of a lick to his forehead, smiling ever so faintly out of both amusement and love. Atshen was the first to submit to her in months, one of the very reasons she sought him out that day; what she had to say meant everything to do with respect and the absense of it. So, she does not hesitate, does not sugarcoat the situation, but speaks plainly and with contempt. "I will be leaving Blackfeather Woods," Cold and desolate eyes reveal the news void of regret; the matriarch has long since contemplated the subject and has little compassion for those who stand to loose from it. "The continued defiance to my ruling has grown tiresome, and I will no longer help support a pack who does not appreciate my efforts," She has not given up, she is saving herself. Saving herself from an eternity of damnation byt the hand of those who seek to oppress her in light of all that she does for them. One day, her stamina will cease and her abilities will fail, and she will be rendered defenseless from the children who now learn to spit her name instead of praise it. It is a quality of life she is not prepared, is unwilling, to fight with.

"I want you and your brothers to come with me," But she does not believe he will decline, his actions to and for her rule have proved indebt enough to the point of utter devotion. However, she goes unaware of the growing relationship that buds between the disgraced daughter and her most prized son. It would be a game-changer, something she did not anticipate and did not want. Astrid, as she had so loved to believe, was now truly not her child. The incident of her birth had not been enough for the child to embrace and love her mother, and the child herself was unlike her lineage enough for the mother to forget. Atshen was the perfect specimen, despite his obvious logic flaws; he was her prize. And she would not leave without him.

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The news that Nemesis shared with Atshen was unexpected, and as a result, he finds himself dropping his original facade for one that correlates with how he felt about the matter. Though happy for his mother, Atshen quickly finds himself conflicted with the Dark Master's ambitions. Atshen knows that he had no ties to the Dark Brotherhood, nor has he practiced their way of life. But even with his ties lose, there is a unique bond that holds him accountable for any rash agreements and causes him to hesitate: Nyx. With their newly blossoming comradery, Atshen has found himself fond of the company of his sister, despite her inherent kookiness. 

With words of protest hanging at the end of his tongue, Atshen glanced away, unable to face the woman who has given him so much in his life. But, before rejecting her, Atshen attempted to get a feel of how talk of Nyx would be received. "No N--Astrid?" Questions Atshen, stumbling easily as he sought her birth name rather than her preferred named.

The last thing the woman expects if for him to speak of her; it causes her eyes to narrow, pacing forward so close that her nose almost touches her son's. She does not understand the confusion that he holds, her stance on the girl has been made quite clear, and to her knowledge, Atshen held the same. But she wants to make it even clearer the repulsion she holds for the girl, not only for the misplaced resentment Astrid longs to hold for her mother, but also the affection she holds for Damien knowing full well his intentions for her family. "That girl betrayed our family, sided with those who seek to eject us from the home I have upheld for years," The growing snarl within the depths of her lungs threatens to break loose, but she reminds herself that it is not Atshen she is tired of. "She is no daughter of mine," The woman backs down, a mere scowl on her lips in comparison to the fury she feels in light of her child's familial abandonment; Astrid is not her only child. There are still others that have not failed everything and everything they were created for, and for that, the wraith can remain content from those she has produced. And so in turn does a ligt smile grace her face, "But you are my son, and we will find our place elsewhere within the wilds," The grandeur of the scheme is present within the tones of her voice, and even more present is the underline of temptation that rings through, calling out to him with a quirk of her brow. "A place that won't be challenged by little girls and their fantasies,"

Atshen does not expect a positive answer from his mother, and with her words, he was met with what had been anticipated.  Not satisfied by this, yet not willing to outrightly say no to Nemesis, Atshen turned to the next thing on his mind: "And what of Abraxas?" He felt no kinship towards the blue-eyed man and knew that him accepting his spot alongside mother would be all the easier to take without his brother in the picture. To this day, he was aware that Abraxas was a threat to him and his position. Where Atshen was aggressive, Abraxas was cunning, and the Silencer had become all too mindful of the fact that his brother's wit could lead to his eventual demise. 

Never voicing his concerns, Atshen kept his thoughts to himself as he waited for Nemesis' reply, his eyes trained respectfully to her chin as he stood by.

She believs her answer is sufficent enough, making clear exactly where she stands on the topic of the digraced daughter. It seemes enough for Atshen to understand, and he all too quickly changes his target of inquiry to his brother, the only other sibling capable of taking his place. It sparks a narrow of the eyes from the mother, and then a slight tilt of her head, as if she is starting to catch on to something she has been missing all along. Nemesis has known of the rivalry between brother and brother, but what she sees before her is not hesitance but budding defiance. Should Abraxas be associated with her plans for the future, Atshen will not have it. But the woman will not lie. "Yes, Abraxas," Her eyes lock on his. "He is as much my son as you, I will not leave him, and I will not leave you," It is a promise, one that she is intent on keeping despite the tainted blood that flows between the two. Blood is thicker than water, and she is more than sure that with time they will see that together, they will reach unmeasureable hights; even if they will never see it now. With that, she sits back on her haunches, awaiting his decision with calculative eyes. He will not refuse her, not truly, not when it mattered.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY NEM, HERES REJECTION FOR UR PRESENT

 
Nemesis' reply gives Atshen a scapegoat in his dilemma and, for once, the Silencer finds himself with the confidence he needs to reject her offer. "I will remain with Astrid," he replies at once, his tone emotionless as his gaze lingers on his mother's inky chin. His words are curt, yet, his respect remains, knowing the wrath that she could bring upon him at any moment. He feels there is nothing more to add and finds himself falling silent, waiting for whatever she is to make of his response.

She quirks her brow, optics narrowing with a pointed look of audacity present within her features. "No, you won't," Atshen does not defy her. He did not when he was a boy, and he does not as a man. She does not allow it. It is the highest form of disrespect that can be shown and he knows it, futher excellerating the severity of her tone with each passing second. He defies her, and does so with a clear consious. But Atshen does not have a consious unless she allows it, and her chest inflates instinctively, looking down upon him with a look she has never given him before. Sheer dissapointment to an unforgiving degree. 

But she does not snarl, she seethes, a hiss so grave that her eyes lack the usual underlining jest behind them. "Because if you stay, you will have nobody to defend you," It is a simple truth, one that she knows he has smothered down amongst the truth that his sudden infatuation with his sister is simply insecurity of what he does not know. He has not known a sibling bond quite like Astrid, and so he latches on to what he can get, disregarding the fact that when it came down to it she would not defend him in the presence of the one who has taken her heart, soul and complete devotion. "Astrid will choose Damien, and your father will turn a blind eye," For Kove's misplaced fidelity to Meldresi's bloodline whom he does not even share blood, far exceeds any rational integrity he could ever have to a son who reminds him too much of the wife he does not want. 

"And you think Damien will tolerate your presence one he returns to power? You will spend the rest of your day's among the scum and the degenerate," Each word comes with a spit, speaking of experiance, that under the rule of the tyrant none else would suceed; much less the son of the woman who supposedly de-throned said tyrant. Damien would sooner slit Atshen's throat in his sleep than allow him to rise once again in the ranks and potentially become all that what Nemesis was. A liability. "You will go nowhere," As much as Damien was strong, he was paranoid. Anything that could come between him and his reign is automatically blacklisted, as Nemesis was far before she had even contemplated the idea of knocking him off his throne. Atshen would be Nemesis reincarnated, in Damien's eyes, and nothing would ever change that. Not even Kove would come his son's defense when the time called for it, the ties that bonded the children that stood by her were irravocably torn.

This time she snarls true, passionate. "You come with me, and I guarentee you will reign victorious for the rest of your life," Every word rings a truth so genuine, she realizes that she has not spoken a truer thing in the last year of her life. She had not done so when Damien had called on her to testify against the False King, and she has not done so when she spoke lovingly to the father of her children. Not entirely, at least. But now, in that moment, she means everything she says to the bone.

The manner in which Nemesis addresses Atshen strikes his core in a way that has not previously affected the pale-bellied Silencer. He feels her wrath in his heart and the fear that strikes quickly spreads throughout his system. He attempts to resist such sensations, but falls short, as the Dark Master's tongue lashes. He tucks himself to this, curling his tail between his hindquarters, unable to fully face what was being brought upon him. He knew that Nemesis was right to some extent, as Nyx would choose Damien over him. The former Dark Master had nearly slain him once and without Mother, who would protect him? Would Nyx? Or would she align with Damien? 

He was honestly uncertain of how it would all pan out. 

But with the perspective of a devil's advocate in mind, Atshen could also vouch for his star-kissed sibling. After all, she had defied the Dark Master to testify for him, and that in itself spoke volumes to the young Silencer. They had both changed for the better, and as a result, they had also grown closer. Atshen wasn't sure if he could so easily give up this bond. 

Not speaking to either side, Atshen's ears fell upon his dark crown, and he licked his chops, unsure of what words would fall from the tip of his tongue.

Still, he denies her. He denies her in the face of truth and she sees nothing but cowardice. She sees failure, to put forth another who would sooner abandon him for silly dreams than the life she birthed him to give. Astrid had tragically failed to become the woman she hoped her to be; Keelut, too far within his own mind to make something out of him in the time that she had, and Abraxas seemed to be chronically absent as an extraordinary likeness to his father. Atshen was the crowning jewel upon which she was to place on the mantle of her name, the diadem of generations of inheritance that was simply meant to be shone. She could not have him straying from the path of what he was meant; his purpose. Astrid obstructed that. It could only truly mean that either Astrid's presence would now be considered an immediate threat to her bloodline and was to be cut-off at haste, or the current Dark Master would need to pull something so dramactic, the son would have no choicce but to hear her plea.

She could not dispose of the star-speckeled girl so easily as she could give up what little left she had, no matter how tempting the options were.

"Very well," She pauses. "Take my crown," Her brow quirks to her son. "If you cannot believe my warnings to the degree they deserve, take my crown and see just how serious I am, on the condition that you command each and every one of them to the severity the Dark Master must have and I will watch as they pick you apart bit by bit, without my support to back you up. Then you will see the urgency of our leave," The calmness of her tone was rightfully suspicious; he had no choice. It was her decree, and like it or not, he will obey. It was a punishment disguised as a present, and could not be mistaken for vice-versa. Very little joy will come from his reign, and she knows this. He will come to know this. He will know the struggle she faces each day from the disgust they continually show her. And if they do not, she will leave him to face the dark woods alone, and in happiness.

"But you will reserve your mercy for none, absolutely nobody."