The gentle hum of the tattoo gun behind her back had lulled Conquest into a half-sleep, eyes having long since drifted closed while the artist continued his work at immortalizing her latest conquest.<br/><br/>Memories fond, her mind drifted over each face as they fell to War’s sword and her bow, their eyes widening before the whites of them turned grey, before the spark that had been there dulled to nonexistent. It’d been a pack of resistance, a small one, but a pack nonetheless. They’d tried to make a statement and attack the innermost circle; The attempt was laughable, of course, as they hadn’t seemed to think it through completely, their plan of attack.<br/><br/>Ill-conceived, and swiftly punished, they were dealt with, and a new mark was to christen her skin of the event: A depiction of it in poetic form.<br/><br/>Remembering back on the blood that’d flown so freely brought her thoughts back around to her fellow horsemen. Famine had been stingy with the food of late, keeping it hostage in his well-protected “shed”. While she didn’t particularly care for the whole of the human race, she thought they might need some food, even if spoiled. Otherwise, who would she have left to govern?<br/><br/>War was his…usual ADD self. Something about him had always been off, which worked in some regard, but not others. It made everything so difficult to talk to him about, to plan, unless it involved him slicing heads off of those that annoyed him, them, the collective. He was too scattered for his own good, in her mind, but nothing she’d done to reel him in had done any good, leaving her frustrated more often than not. Hell, it’d been him giving her her favorite nickname, “Bitch,” because she’d been trying to get him to listen and had to resort to heavy sarcasm (most of which, she doubted he understood anyway), and below-the-belt knocks.<br/><br/>The name fit, though, so she didn’t punish him for it.<br/><br/>But Death…Death was like the moody teenagers that she so often watched in the outer lines. Even if they’d possessed more money, enough to move up in the circles, she’d have their lives swiftly ended. She got that his whole thing was…death, but did he have to always brood so much? It made for the life to be sucked from a room and killed any joy she had about conquests palpable each and every time.<br/><br/>No pun intended.<br/><br/>Making a mental note to talk to War and see if he’d heard anything new on the resistance front, along with her “loyal subject” as she called them, the one human (apart from her tattoo artist) that she could stand to be around for longer than a few moments, she turned her mind off. The gentle hum of the gun behind her, and the feel of the needle moving in and out of her skin lulled her into a light sleep, content.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000"> The look in his eyes was not what one would expect someone to have, at least not when a hot poker was being pressed into his chest. It was wild, crazy and highly amused while he stared at a man from his army whose teeth were grit against the pain.  <br/> <br/>“Whats wrong?” he asked, the grin on his face a bit crazed while he chewed on a piece of gum obnoxiously loud. “It hurt?!” he laughed and the shouted. “ANOTHER!” To which another poker was pressed into his chest, though before it could even touch the flesh of the other man, he broke down into tears while he curled up into a ball. <br/><br/>Fists slammed into the table as he stood up suddenly, “You guys are no fun!” In a fit of anger and disappointment, he kicked the wooden table and watched with satisfaction as it splintered against the wall. “Pick him up and have him skinned! Alive!” he ordered. The cries for mercy quickly silenced with a kick to the face and a sickening sound of bone breaking. “I want you all to run until you puke, then I want you to run until you shit. Then I want you to run until you bleed!”  <br/> <br/>He did not even wait before he stormed out, those whom he faced were quick to get out of his path. There was so little for him to do anymore, the bitch had been keeping him on a tight leash, or at least she tried too. And the humans were so weak they hardly lasted through his games anymore. War was bored and War wanted something to do. So, that meant it was time for his favorite game... <br/> <br/><span style="font-style: italic">BANG</span><br/><br/>The door was kicked open and he stomped into the room, “Hey Bitch!” The stomps continued, until he noticed the tattoo artist, “OOOO! Coloring time!” he practically skipped over to her in his excitement. Without even missing a step he kicked the artist from the stool and took up his spot just as smoothly. Gun now in his hands, he took the liberty and ran his thick, likely sweaty hand down her back.  <br/> <br/>“Now....lets pretty this up, hmm?” he stated. “A nice panda king, right on the ass. Left cheek I think, as it's the firmest,” he grinned and waggled is brows at her.</span>