[private] hangman hooded; ana

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

It seems that he is not the only one of the Old World to have made his way into this New Beqanna.

It is a strange kind of comfort to know that he is surrounded by those who have also crawled from the grave or simply slipped back into this world from the shadows that had claimed them for years. He does not often find himself craving company—strange, for as social of a creature as he is—but he finds that he enjoys the knowing of it. Knowing that the world is now crawling with old blood and old ambitions.

Even more so knowing that the old ambitions can find hooks in this new world.

So it does not take him long to find his way to Pangea when the rumors meet him. Does not take him long to cross the threshold of Carnage’s land, not caring enough to learn the borders, and slipping further into the dusty caverns and plains of the place. He wrinkles his equine nose as he swings his head around, his dark tail flicking at his haunches as he moves forward—not certain that he likes it or not yet.

“It’s no Chamber, Ana,” he finally mutters, knowing that his once co-ruler would hear him soon enough. Still, he shrugs because it’s also not the worst of the places that he’s seen in his recent wanderings. These new lands seem to lack the heart, the life, of the other kingdoms, but Atrox has enough vision to know that it doesn’t need to remain that way forever. Enough time and effort and they, too, could come to life.

Or at least be animated enough to provide them with ample entertainment.

These days, he’s not certain that he cares either way.

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING