Altar of Twilight making meat enough to glut the crows

paging the cerberus! @Hydra, @Lyra @Ayla i'm not honestly sure where this fits in the timeline but it's meant to take place directly after this thread. :o please let @Nemesis reply first! :-)

Nemesis had gestured for him to lead the way and so Drogon does. He is not overly comfortable with his back being to the woman — on occasion there was a crawl of his skin, a indignant puff of his chest and hackles as if he is trying to fluff the thicker, wispier fur of his mane to protect him from a chill but it is not terribly cold this day. His muscles are taunt and he moves with purpose, a edge of savagery to his steps that is meant to warn that he will attack at any given moment that he feels threatened. He doesn’t trust her and he isn’t sure that bringing her to The Cerberus is a good idea but the sisters three would not be alone should this meeting go south. The mask he wears, the one he will come to christian as selkäjakaja is ruthless as the name suggests. All it would take was one wrong step, one wrong word from her. Drogon doesn’t trust her but the information she has, even the information she has already provided him with could be useful in the plight against Blackfeather Woods. The aspiring tactician can see this …and in truth it is the only reason he does this: because he sees the benefit it could present to them.

As they approach the Altar of Twilight’s heart Drogon’s steps slow and he turns around to face Nemesis, his glacial gaze steady and unwavering upon her. “Here we will convene with The Cerberus,” Drogon speaks, his breath spilling from betwixt this lips in a plume of white steam. “They are the judge and the jury. They will decide if you go any further than this point.” Drogon informs her before he sends up a howl for the triplets.

She halts before the convergence spot, lifting cold eyes to survey the land she has been led to. It lingers far too close to the haunted wood where Malice once coerced the false king into her grips, and then south, to where the remains of a life once lived lies. Winter's bane has settled comfortably into her bones as the return of the bloodhound moves into the territory. She yearns for the promise of war, and the bittersweet taste of the destruction it brings; the food of her soul and the sustenance of her character. It is a hunger that consumes the fabric of her thoughts, devouring every morsel of calamity within her and spitting out annihilation in its path. The wraith has gone too long, starved of the terror and rage her presence had once commanded. Now, she hunts for death, but not before the affirmation of safety. Moonspear was a wildcard in her books, a relationship coexisted between them that was unknown to many yet a tricky little thing in the eyes of those who knew their history. It was where her sister had come for shelter before her assassination, back when the Brotherhood was ruled by Blackfeather's matriarch and conqueror. Would they accept a former frenemy into their midst? To lie in the same realm as their children, and to watch in the dark as they slept? Nemesis would not. It was only a question if Charon and his kin were eager enough for the death of Blackfeather Woods to allow its former queen to walk among them. Former. If she was indeed to earn a place with them, her attachment from the dark woods was imperative to convey. Her loyalty existed solely to Bane, who regardless, existed far beyond the Teekon's impact. Standing forth, bold and daring, she awaits the Cerberus's judgement.