If thou openest not the gate to let me enter,
I will break the door, I will wrench the lock,
I will smash the door-posts, I will force the doors.
I will bring up the dead to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living.

The scent of Baphomet had been there for a long time before Ishtar noticed it. It was not something that surprised her. He was an attentative father, and he had taken great care with their older children. She notices the shift of light, and as she opens her eyes she recognizes Baphomet. She raises her head as he blocks the enterance of the den and a small, tired smile alights upon her face. It was one of recognition as well as pride. Their son was strong and vibrant. He was large and had a good appetite even as he sleeps against her. She watches Baphomet fold himself before her, his form of submission before her. It amused her but she did not bring attention to it. A wolf that was not used to submitting to anyone submitting before in such an awkward stance was just further evidence that she had choosen the father of her children well. She nods her head, watching their sleeping son. "Thank you, Baphomet." Her voice was still strong even if the evidence of exhaustion touched the tone of it. Ishtar was still a fierce demoness, and possibly more as she would not tolerate those other than Baphomet around her den. He alone had a free pass from her anger and temper. Let the rotting animals outside her den be a warning to others. Here, death reigned freely. Perhaps in the early days, the Demons used such displays to deter those who would harm the next generation. She did not think that most wolves gave birth in such morbid surroundings but the scents of death would cover up the scents of new life.

Ishtar shifts her bodice, exposing the boy much to his protest. She nudges him quietly, and offers him to his father. "Your son." It was only right that Baphomet name his heir to these lands. The one that would carry their bloodline and their traditions as they slaughtered the Angelic, he would lead the newest generation. When they breathed their last breath, and their flesh was consumed, and their bones bleached by sun and weather--their son would remain. The Blood Mouth's words were laced heavily with the accent of the Old Tongue. She knew that such words could give away exactly what they were, but she found it hard to give up the old tongue completely. As he hummed the melody to the song she would one day teach their son, her mind slips into the old tongue with the scenes of the Gods and the beginning of their lines. She speaks quietly, "Quid nos nominare filius noster?" She asks for a name to call their son by, the tone soft and her accent clearly more comfortable than the common wolf tongue they spoke.

She knew that she would not speak in such a way just yet, for their remained dimmly covered as wolves from a different land that had no concept of imprinting. She knew that to keep that front was vital in demolishing this particular branch of Angels or converting them to the Fallen. They were poorly educated anyways, for the younger wolves seemed unable to identify them as true demons. None had called them by the old words, nor identified them by their markings. She missed the old epitaphs that she had been called as she tore throats out and bathed in their blood. She also knew that Baphomet fought the urge to use the Old Tongue with her, for there had been times when his accent was heavy and thick with the old words. She also knew that she would have to initiate if she was truly determined to claim him as her own. Ishtar never thought that she would even consider tying herself down to one wolf, but he had won her affection three winters ago, and had since won her loyalty. Ishtar had been in the habit of choosing the strongest of demons to play the winter games with, yet very few had made it as far as Baphomet and seemingly with such ease that Ishtar did not see any others and as she considers the father of her youngest son, she did not believe that she would ever see another the way she sees Baphomet.

ISHTAR.