The fury that had burned in Despoina when she had first met the woman was still there, if buried deep beneath the driven persona that she had adopted. Aithne had found her gnashing against the constraints of society, lost in her own self. It had been clear then that the female had not known what she wanted or needed so Aithne had tempted her. Halcyon had once been violence incarnate as a pup, furious at her dragging him here, and in the end he had chosen to stay out of loyalty. Despoina had come willingly and been given the purpose she needed. The danger of Iromar was enough to keep the strong tethered here, their spirits running wild with the creatures of the moors. The land itself seemed to emanate a predatory presence that kept it's inhabitants half feral at times but Aithne loved it here.

A spy? It seemed with all the transitioning in packs a spy was a good thing to have in case one came to power who lusted for more. A slight inclination of the head is given to let the girl know she had had heard her, but it turns into a deep, rumbling chuckle as she catches the almost silent words. Amused eyes peer at Despoina, wondering why Maeve had gotten under her skin, but she would leave it at that. Each had their own secrets and none could be forced to give them up. Aithne wouldn't ask it of them - they could offer when they were ready, if ever, and she would accept it. "The older pups could use a firm hand to train them. I shall seek her out soon, then, and decide what task to give her. Idle paws are not the best," she says calmly. There was plenty of work for those who were willing to take it.

The offering is a test and her eyes do not leave the female during the transformation into stone once more. The fury that was hidden rolls across her eyes like a tempest. Aithne does not shift her body yet her muscles tense, a slow coiling of energy, as she feels the energized air between them. What was her Minos thinking? Tell me, Despoina demands, and Aithne's lips twist into a semblance of a grin, with teeth shining in a predatory manner. "I killed him," she says on a hiss of breath. "Astaroth and I, we killed him, for he crept into the moors intending to take the life of your aunt. It was his folly, a fools errand, and crossing me cost him his life. A fitting end for such a coward." There is a vicious glee to her face at the words. It had troubled her before, the way he had slipped into her midst, but she felt blood lust at the remembrance now.

Nine - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne