Blackfeather Woods Send shivers down my spine

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

The interrogation begins before she arrives, coniveniently, gliding forth through the underbrush as her child audibly regects the concept of the Dark Mistress's rule to a stranger; placing a bitter taste within her mouth as her temper flickers with the threat of white-hot rage. However, the questionaire is over before it begins; insults are thrown and the stranger retreats, and the wraith emerges. "Well done," She speaks without looking to her child, optics trained on the retreating figure of the regected subject. Perhaps the obsidian child had been too opposing, ridiculing the other to a point where their worth could not have been shown. "But not good enough," It is her own spiteful emotions that clouds the girl's logical thoughts. Any wolf of any standing would have been able to tell that Astrid did not carry the scent of a leader; it was her own words that became the catalyst for Merrigan's opossition. To truly be someone who's very presence made other's quake in uncertianty, to be someone who walked with an air of superiority that others could not mistake, that someone had to have a head on their shoulders. Astrid lacked in the finess of supermacy and thus was looked upon like the child she is. 


But those who knew her well enough, knew that Nemesis always had critisim on her mind as well as venegence within her consious, something that none were relieved from. "Insulting those who Mephala has brought to our borders is childish, no matter how cunning you think it makes you seem," Her voice is void of emotion, truly detached as she speaks to the least impressionable of her offspring. Perhaps her words were far to harsh to conspire between mother and daughter, however, it was wholly apparent that Astrid had never and would never feel a string of emotion for the one who birthed her. If it was the girl's wish that Nemesis never hold a maternal instinct over her, Nemesis had little problem in making that so. In the place of what could have been, she speaks with a distaste reserved only for those whom she held zero responsibility for, severing what remained of a broken bond that was destined not to be; just the way the self-proclaimed Goddess of Night liked to pretend it was.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]