((Eeh, throwing Manda in this, always ready for wintery shit))

The orange stag was worried about how fast the snow had fallen this year. It had been just a few days since he had been basking in the sunlight by the Idol. The snow had come almost overnight - the stag was lucky to have gathered all the necessary herbs he needed in advance. His fur hadn't even grown to its full length yet. He was more than used to the cold, reminding him of his old home, but his ankles couldn't take it this fast. They had already serious frostbites in them, and it made walking anywhere painful.

He knew perfectly he'd be excellent pray for predators. His muscles weren't any weaker than they had been before, but he wasn't sure he had the energy to fight back if he was attacked. Just how Camomille had been killed. The orange stag shivered, desperate for shelter to start attending to his wounds. Giving the leathery bag around his neck a nervous look, he wondered how long the herbs would last. He couldn't use all of them on himself, just enough to stay alive.

He had to gasp for breath as the sudden breeze of cold wind was blown against his face. The mask blocked some of the cold, but it felt the orange stag desperate to find his balance again. Ah well, this much was to be expected. The summer had been warm. The gods wanted to maintain the balance. Carefree, the stag stepped on a frozen twig, making it crackle loudly. Quickly he pulled back, as he noticed the twig's condition. Somebody had walked through here, and just recently. The stag couldn't smell anything as sniffing made his nostrils full with nothing else but bitter cold. But he was SURE - somebody had stepped on it. The twig had felt a little different under his hoof - like it had already been broken. The orange stag sharpened his senses in fear. Someone was here, but was it a friend or a foe?

The orange stag sensed the presence clearly, as he was approached. He didn't know where the beast aproached from, though. His ears were known for their sharp sensitivity, but he really needed the scent to locate his target. The wind was in favor of the beast - the orange stag was sure that it was a predator - blowing its scent away from the stag.

The orange stag let out a grunt, feeling his blood flowing through his veins. He had gone through the training, he had made himself strong for a reason. He wouldn't run away like a coward - not like his body possessed any speed, anyway. The fear that controlled him was pushed aside in just a few seconds, and his natural instincts to survive began to take over. Not only that, a distant thought made his adrenaline levels rise. What if this was one of the same creatures that had been involved in Camomille's death? If that was the case, the orange stag would give his all to fight.

He scratched the ground with his heavy forehoof and lowered his head to shield himself with his antlers. The candles seemed to burn stronger, ready to burn the predator if it was stupid enough to be unwary. The stag knew he could be attacked from behind, so he spread his legs a little, ready for a painful kick.

"What are you waiting for? Show me what you can do!" As he yelled, he felt new energy flowing through his body. It had been a long time since he had tasted the excitement of battle. If he would go down today, he wasn't going to make it easy for the beast.

The orange stag only noticed the beast as it was only millimetres away from him, and he knew it was too late to attempt dodging. He couldn't really tell what he was looking at - he only caught the scent of black smoke - like something after a forest fire. The scent unnerved him greatly. His instinct was to run when he smelled or saw smoke - but this was not the time. It was a white beast that had just sunk its sharp teeth into his flesh. The pain was sharp and he could feel his lifeblood rushing out from the wound, creating small dapples of deep red on the fresh snow. But the stag was built to withstand attacks, to hold on and tire his opponents eventually. He wasn't sure how much he could take, though. The pain felt everywhere - his head was pounding like crazy, as it warned him again and again to fight back.

The orange stag could see only red as he tried to shake the large predator off with fierce shakes, jumpes and kicks. He wasn't sure how many of his attempts to kick actually landed - he just acted as his body told him to act. 'I have to survive.. I just have to!' He thought as more blood gushed out from his shoulder, 'I have to know if this is the same beast.' He wanted to say it out loud, but could only let out angry grunts for the challenger. No use, he'd have to immobilize it somehow, before its teeth could proceed further into his tendons and muscles. Acting with rage and immerse power, the orange stag began to run in the direction of the nearest tree. His steps weren't quick, but they certainly were heavy and would give the beast quite a ride. Unsure whether it was even on his back anymore, the orange stag attempted to crash against the tree to free himself.

The orange stag felt the grip tighten, but he wasn't ready to give up just yet. If this was one of the murderers responsible, he'd rather have his dignity as a stag until his last breath. With a mighty grunt, the stag rose to his hind legs, ready to ram himself against the tree once more. The beast had obviously felt it, and it was his best chance of surviving. Unless he'd bleed to death.

The blood loss had already made the orange stag's head dizzy, but he wasn't afraid. No... this was his last chance to say what he wanted to say. As he threw his massive bulk against the tree time after time, he shouted through the wind : "Tell me, beast! Tell me how many have you killed in your travels! How many of them were female? He dared not mention his old friend's name in the fear that it would disturb her eternal sleep. "Please! I will do anything to know!" He didn't even care if he would die, he didn't even care he would be eaten - he just wanted the answer. His body continued to move on its own, remembering all the important parts of his training. It all felt so useless now... had all the studying been in vain? He didn't remember if he had ever been this close to death. What a dumb way it would be to die. To end up being someone's lunch.

The instant the beast's teeth left his bones and left the stag almost completely unable to move, he fell to the ground. "You're strong." His voice was now weak, and his shoulder was numb; he didn't feel a thing. Not the pain, not the sense of danger or the will to survive. His head was a blur of countless images that circled around his brain which desperately tried to keep the stag's heart beating. Did it feel like this to have your life flashing in front of you? The stag found it amusing at best - he was too tired and too weak to think clearly.

Still, the beast said that one word. THAT ONE GODDAMN NAME. Why was the orange stag so obsesessed with it, anyway? Camomille had long been a rotting, smelling corpse, torn apart at the teeth of predators. It was funny, really. He could die any second now, and still his thoughts were only focused on her. Not on Xarxes, not on Itzel or Aela. Just Camomille. He tried to laugh, but could only hear the sound of blood gurgling in his throat. The stag was now too weak to even get angry at the beast. "It was you, wasn't it? Or maybe one of your pretty friends with teeth, yeah?" His words were almost uncomprehensible, as he gasped for air. He just felt like laughing at how ridiculous everything was. What had he even accomplished in his life?

Forcing his thoughts to focus on this moment, he tried to ask more clearly now: "How do you know.. of her?" The candles in his antlers still burned strong. The gods wished for him to live... but he had no idea about what he was getting into.

((May I jump in?))

(( @bearwatch: sure thing. @mary13: I have a reference picture for him on his bio but I'll link you here just in case: x

Sacrilege rolled his blue eyes again and as he did he exhaled forcefully making a muffled whistling noise as the air tried to escaped his jagged mouth. He felt annoyed and was quickly growing impatient with the orange one for his stalling questions. The demon needed an answer, a quick one before his opportunity slipped once again.

"I'd rather take the life of a killer than that of an innocent." The demon spoke with a soft remorseful voice. He was after all a charmer and master deceiver.

"Look the only reason I attacked you was because I need to feed myself." He paused and sighed again looking down at the ground as if ashamed of his own predicament. "The least I can do is try to make it right.

Sacrilege growled as he watched the life slip away from the orange pelted deer; this was useless to him. Without any information to start him off it would be a wild goose chase for the perpetrator of the previous crime. At the very least crimes that didn't affect the human world would be well outside of Adrasteia's jurisdiction and so were crimes committed for the purpose of one's own survival as had been the case with this killing. Regardless of that Sacrilege felt compelled to at the very least extend the life of this creature if only for his own selfish gain.

He knew what he needed to do and it was a risk to his continuing life but it was one he needed to take. Carrying the lumbering lump of dead flesh would be quite a struggle but he had other worries in mind. He lowered his head and nudged the body with some force; it was dead. With a loud snort he clamped his teeth around the animal's shoulders barely holding it all together and with one powerful swing threw it over his own shoulders and back. The being laid lifeless and the blood stained the demon's white fur as it trickled from the massive wound. The weight added to his back and ribs caused him great pain as it drove the broken ribs into the surrounding soft tissue, a bruise had already begun to form around the impact area.

Every step forward was torture but he was determined; he stomped through the snow leaving deep gashes stained with the creature on his back's blood. Sacrilege was making his way into the birch forest with caution as to not be surprised by Adrasteia.

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(This is Adrasteia's part)

The black pelted demon laid silently watching the miracle of nature's balance unfold before her very eyes; the leaves had turned a beautiful shade of orange and red, most had already abandoned their homes on the branches and were covered by a deep layer of snow. She sighed and closed her ruby red eyes as she listened to the ethereal sounds of nature at work; falling snow, the winds as they changes, the very life force of every creature, they all had their distinct sounds and colors but few beings ever experienced them. Adrasteia felt fortunate for being one, even in her innumerable years as a guardian of balance it never ceased to amaze her every single year.

Her peaceful rest atop the blanketed stones of the playground was interrupted by a sharp burst of light and sound; death had come to this forest. Her eyelids peeled back to reveal saddened eyes. Although it was part of nature's balance the death of any creature was always a sad occasion. She stood on crimson hooves attached to powerful legs and said a prayer for the departed. She bowed respectfully to the sky, it wasn't her place to guide this one as the forest had its own guardians; the Gods.

Once again she was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her place of rest - a surprise, it was the reason she had come to this forest; Sacrilege. A low rumble formed and erupted from her throat when she noticed the lifeless body upon the white beast. She should have know he was to blame for this loss today. The muscular animal jumped down from the smooth rocks with a gracefulness reserved for dancers, she glided through the air as if carried by it and landed with a solid thud. Adrasteia took careful but confident steps towards the other demon always holding her head high and proud, her eyes however betrayed her apparent confidence as they were filled with sadness and disapointment.

What have you done Dorian. This innocent's blood screams your name in accusation.

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Sacrilege made haste to explain himself in less graceful terms than those used by the sophisticated Adrasteia. He jumped straight to the point and bargained the release of his own soul in exchange for that of Camomille's killer. The black demoness paused and remained silent for many minutes as she considered the deal; yes it was a fair trade but did Sacrilege deserve to live more than the other killer? She sighed and nodded towards the white one who still held the lifeless body upon his own.

Please, set this poor one down before me. I will recall his soul. You won't have much time to ask your questions so be brief Dorian. Sacrilege had already begun to carefully lower the orange stag even before Adrasteia had finished speaking. He set him down just in front of the black deer. She looked at his torn body and her heart filled with sadness for such a violent and painful end to a tough life. His past events flashed before her eyes; all the orphans he had helped, all the struggles and pain he had overcome and now he laid before her, just a cold torn up corpse.

She closed her eyes and an invisible energy began to swirl around both the black demon and the orange stag. It caused the snow to swirl around them both like an elegant tornado of diamonds, delicate and fluffy flowing through the winds. She felt his soul crying out from far away, in this netherworld Adrasteia took on a much different form. A humanoid massive beast with six slender long arms ending in skeletal fingers with a small androgynous red mask for a face. Her entire form was covered by veils of darkness that flowed as if under water. With one of her long appendages she reached deep into the stream where souls flowed in an endless cycle of renewal, she ran her long fingers through the flow and plucked the one she needed. Manda. Wake up. It's not yet your time to rest young soul. she spoke softly to him as she returned the soul to its damaged body. As she did his wounds began to heal just enough to sustain life for a while longer.

(Nah man my post was like a page from a book ;; so sorry about that )

Sacrilege's mouth was beginning to open as if to speak but the look in Adrasteia's eyes let him know it wasn't his place to speak but rather now was the time for the white demon to leave the scene. Normally he didn't follow orders from anyone but with his fate quite literally in the hands of the demoness he lowered his head in defeat and returned through the snow deep into the forest. Adrasteia reminded Sacrilege via a tight pulling of the strings that attached his soul to his body that he wasn't in control of the situation. Having those tendons of life pulled felt like having your consciousness momentarily leave your body, he saw himself from a third person's perspective and felt the cold hands of death almost clamp around him to plunge him into eternal darkness; the sensation was brief, only a second long but it was enough to scare even the strongest of beasts.

He shook his head and snorted out loudly as he went on his way. He let his body finally rest a few meters away from the other two making sure to put the weight on the side opposite to the broken ribs. Even without putting direct weight on the wound it was excruciatingly painful to breath. He looked away from the scene and ignored the smell and feel of the dried blood on his back and side as he closed his eyes.

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Adrasteia kept an eye on Sacrilege as he left, never blinking or making a sound. Her sole priority was to take care of the younger being she had ripped from the tide of souls she watched over. The mere fact that he was breathing once again was a sign she had done something she rarely ever dared to do; she had upset the balance. The thought made her cringe but she put if out of her mind. Looking down at the injured creature her gaze softened, she had a tender soft expression like a caring mother looks at her young child. The demoness took in a deep quiet breath before speaking.

My name is Adrasteia and I brought you back to this plane of existence. Fear not child for I will protect you. Her masculine muzzle touched the top of Manda's head to try to quiet some of his discomfort with a tender caring kiss.

Dorian; the white beast you unfortunately met has offered to bring your friend's killer to justice. I will be the judge, jury and executioner in the trial for the offender who so callously took an innocent life.

She maintained her neutrality even in her voice, it was deep and androgynous never betraying her gender. The well formed antlers atop her head and her bulky body made it impossible to determine a physical gender for the creature but she spoke confidently and calmly.

I know you will ask this of me but the answer is no, I am truly sorry for your loss. She said as she looked down at the blood stained snow, everyone always asked. "can you bring back my loved one?" The question was so common she no longer needed to hear them speak to know that it was coming. I can care for you until your body recovers. I can also return your soul to the tide; this however is irreversible as I cannot risk bringing you back a second time. Think carefully child, the choice is yours to make. she finished her sentence as she laid down beside him. Using her tongue she began cleaning his wound using short gentle sweeps. Wiping dirt, loose hair and snow away from his shoulder as well as cleaning up the blood that had already frozen upon it.

She listened with closed eyes as his emotional pain rolled from his tongue and poured from his very soul like a broken dam. Even though she tried her best to remain neutral and unfeeling in her line of work there were moments such as this that brough tears to her eyes. Many times before the same words had stung her; the death of a child before that of its parents and their pained cries to have the infant returned or the death of a bride on her wedding da. She had watched many times before as death took its course without remorse leaving torn lives behind to mourn those who had once been so dear to them in life. Adrasteia continued to groom him humming a quiet song until he spoke of himself in such low terms.

Her head lifted and she gazed upon him with her eternal eyes, red and moistened by tears that clung to her long lashes.

Even the most wicked amongst us have a role to play child. As she spoke she pointed with her muzzle in the direction Sacrilege had gone. All life is precious. From the smallest insect to the mighty and fair rulers of kingdoms. Not one is more important than the other for we all have a part to play in maintaining the great Balance. It is the very being from which all life came forth and diversified. It was the first of the living and is the oldest and wisest of us all, it guards us and keeps life flowing through the many veins and arteries it has grown throughout the many different planes of existence. We must all play our respective parts no matter how insignificant, how painful or how unfair our part may be. We all return to 'life' and in turn experience everything it has to offer but all in due time my dear. every word she spoke was filled with a tangible understanding and wisdom only one her age could ever hope to posess. Her voice had turned much softer something akin to bells ringing in the distance, a noise so soothing it threatened to put time itself to sleep for just a moment as it flowed passionately from her lips.

The ancient one sighed and resumed her soothing grooming of her injured charge, she was tender and caring always avoiding causing too much more discomfort for him as she kept picking away at the debris and frozen blood that had begun to scab on his fur. Her breaths were slow and steady never skipping or hesitating and it felt creamy and smooth to the touch as it escaped her lungs in harmonious rythm. She begun humming once again to help sooth his pain away, a song ancient and Devine known only to her kind of which she was the last. Legends say that those who hear her haunting music experience a bliss impossible to describe in words as their worries all melt away into a sea of white.

As her song soothed his pains away she remained calm and collected and even though he had asked questions she didn't respond. The answer he was looking for wasn't one for the demoness to provide but rather one that would come to him through experience. She continued to groom and clean him and kept an ever watchful eye in the direction Sacrilege had gone; knowing the demon would quickly grow impatient. Her hunch was correct as she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps heading their way.


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His lumbering form weaved through the trees and snow banks with relative easy but every step he took produced an audible grunt from his mouth as he felt the ache on his side intensify as the cold penetrated his body. Sacrilege was reminded now more than ever of just how much he truly hated the frigid weather; a slightly ironic thing since he himself resembled the season with his cold uncaring attitude and disregard for life as he mercilessly took what he wanted when he wanted. His head peaked from around a dead tree and was met by Adastreia's cold gaze. The creature always sent a chill down his pine with her lack of emotion and overbearing logic-above-all attitude. Sacrilege noticed however that she looked different, he wouldn't describe it as being finally cracked by a mortal but she for the first time since he had first met her was showing some form of caring for something else that wasn't her precious Balance

He smirked at her as if to say 'gotcha!' but his satire fell on deaf ears as she ignored him. Sacrilege snorted and carefully lowered himself onto his uninjured side; he was growing impatient but he knew he stood no chance against her. Even in peak condition he stood little to no chance of ever besting the other in a battle and now that he was severely injured attempting to fight would be suicide. He eyed them both as they rested together. "So pathetic..." He said to himself looking displeased and even a bit disgusted by the display.

If you want to speed his recovery and your quest I suggest you find a doctor. Her voice reached him even though her lips hadn't moved; another of her creepy tricks. He shook his head and reluctantly pulled himself off the cold ground. Snow and mud clung to his fur in clumps as brown water dripped back down to earth. He shuffled for a moment to find his balance and some relief from the pain and turned away from the couple. Sacrilege didn't know any doctors, in fact he didn't know more than two or three inhabitants in the forest; his solitary existence coming to bite him in the ass again. Nevertheless he set forth determined to drag any fool who looked like a doctor, he didn't care if he had to crack a few skulls to get what he wanted. Even in his injured state Sacrilege was no pushover and his towering height were usually enough to intimidate most others into submitting.