in your likeness

@Madmortigan

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  Nike had been entirely too enraptured in the feelings of her study to have a chance to interact with many in her liking. It's not that she didn't want to— the faye practically survived off of attention— but it was more so that she needed to find herself. At least a fraction, before she let others know who she had been.

 So, Nike was in a perfectionist stage where she stared at herself in a light stream of water. Her cream-tinted face and tufts of fur stared back at her and she licked feverishly to get her hairs just the way she wanted them to.

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 He rose early enough to see freckles of lavender and pink pierce the overcast navy of night. 

 Though he welcomed an ease to the summer heat, Madmortigan did not wish to hasten the cold and the nails of savage pain the falling temperature drove into his aging bones. 

 “Nike.” He greeted, seeing her fussing at already quaffed fur. “Are you well?”

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 Trimmed acutely to her senses, Nike whipped her head around to face her approaching Harbinger from the woodland. A soft smile pulled at her face as she answered with honesty. "I am," Her tail swayed at her sides. "And what of yourself?"

 She'd wait patiently and politely for his response. "Any exciting news to share? You do know how much I like a good show."

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 “We have gained an ally in Elkshire and are courting Nightwalkers to do the very same.” A triarchy of temperate rulers would pose an impending threat to all outside their region, but Madmortigan was not naive enough to believe the relationship transparent.

 Each ruler had their own ambitions, after all. 

 “And we have a guest.” He added, thinking to avoid any further ruffled feathers. “His name is @Daighre.”

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Nike would listen as her Harbinger talked. She soaked up every word that spilled from his lips, letting the information sink in. Her ears flickered at the mention of the Nightwalkers, tail, and fur coming to a light bristle. "Nightwalkers, too?" The enthusiasm in her voice was undeniable.

Her nose scrunched at the mention of a mere guest, not of a member. "Will he bend the knee to the order?" She would ask, tentatively stepping a boundary. It was no place for her to ask such things, but Nike worried about their agenda. The midst was unclear of their future as of now.

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 Information had always been the Harbinger's most valuable form of currency. It was a wealth he did not hesitate to share with his loyal members. “I expect he will in time, and yes, Nightwalkers too.” 

 Madmortigan inclined his head, regarding the lavish female. She held the kind of head-turning beauty that could be honed and weaponized, a razor-blade temptress.

 “You could help secure our alliance, Nike. If you're willing to submit yourself to the task - and to their Scion.”

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strategizing

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It was almost as if a weight had been taken off her chest. The formidable thought of the Nightwalkers beckoning their territory for themselves only elicited a certain spark of fear in her, which transpired into elation. It was a safe assumption to think that Nike was utterly insane and driven by the power of lust alone, but it was indeed power that drove her. 

She'd raise a brow when Madmortigan spoke his piece. Well, more rather an offering that she could feast upon. Her posture straightened, her ears perked forward, and she puckered her lip before she gave a drawling response. "I would do...anything, to secure this alliance for you, my Harbinger." A sly smirk pulled at the visage of her face, a curling beauty that she honed so imperviously. Especially since he mentioned the oh-so-handsome Scion. 

"Tell me what I have to do."

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 When it came to duty, Madmortigan was explicit. “Mate the Scion, Almight, and produce a legacy that will strengthen both packs. Work to keep Labyrinthian's interests while you live Blackwood Reach. Report to me regularly to ensure our diplomatic relationship is in good standing.”

 His violet eyes never left the she-wolf's golden visage. “This will bring you power and esteem, Nike. It is not a position or task to be taken on a whim.”

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strategist

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Mate the Scion. The words came with so much force from the Harbinger, but it felt as though he shouted them at her. The words, the compound, and the strength of just three battered around in her mind. It woe'd her, made her dizzy, and have to refocus her eyes on the Harbinger after such an impact. 

Nike's eyes didn't leave Madmortigan's. She was afraid that if she had, he would simply disappear, and she would wake up from this maddening dream with a barren appreciation for what she had. She didn't even think she had blinked in the moments they were talking, nor breathed. 

"When do I leave?" The words slipped past her tongue with ease. She was born for this. It was a role that she wouldn't disappoint in. Nike had been dreaming, fantasizing, about life such as this one and now it was being given to her on a silver platter. Nike wouldn't make a mockery out of her Harbinger— she would make him out to be the God that he was.  She would not fail them.

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 “Tomorrow, at first light. I believe you can get yourself there safely, unless you would like an escort.” Madmortigan replied, catching the enthusiasm that oozed from her pelt like morning dew.

 “I'm trusting you to serve Labyrinthian well, Nike.” Nightwalkers were a den of lions, beasts with dark intentions and even more caliginous personalities. It would take a spider to survive there, one with poison up her sleeve. “And I have every faith you will.”

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strategist

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She'd nod at his comment. "An escort would be lovely," she'd breathe, knowing how those stalkers of the Reach played. And how dirty they did... Nike could almost recall her own night upon their hunting grounds. She'd been too feeble to step foot into the Reach itself, but she was glad that she hadn't done so. 

Nike would bow with grace and elegance towards the Harbinger, a delicate smile placid on her features. "You can count on me, sire." And then, through their ruins and up a heap, she was gone, thinking of how she was going to bed the Scion of the Reapers of the night.

— end

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