i was filled with poison,
but blessed with beauty and rage
There are few things that stir the lioness as easily as the scent of Forbidden Dale.
Prague has never really gotten over the grudge she harbored in her heart after Covet murdered Coca-cola - when you're a young Queen and looking for a mentor, a friend (and eventually a crush) you cannot handle that type of news. The silver lioness had thus only made one exception of liking the Dale - when Murphy ruled because she was just so hard not to like and believe me the old gray tried not to like her. The silver lioness had been following this ghostly man for some time, she felt him approaching before he ever thought about crossing their borders. His intentions seem harmless but she is not one to pry, much. She had been in hiding as of late, she wanted all the others (especially the Chamber) to think Lagertha had no magician and once again she was missing. It was working. Prague had put a mental barrier up for the Ravens and often shapeshifted into another if she must be present for something. She has been the bird flitting through the canopy all this time, her beady eyes watching him as he stops and with hours passing and no one coming she decides to approach. Her form changes to a python, slinking down the tree - her split tongue feeling his warmth as her scales inch closer. She reaches the bottom and shifts into a silver lion then within steps a bay mare of a smaller stature, arabian. She moves up towards the man, "What can the Jungle possibly do for someone from the Dale?" she says, spitefully and realizing that if she's going to appear as someone else - she must play the part much to her dismay, "Maeve, who are you?" although Prague knows there is rumor that a ghostly King rules the Dale she is simply a peon, a peasant if you will.
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