silence of the lambs; of rose

X.General Information.X
Formal Curse: Acantha Valr Kyrja
Means: Acantha can mean 'thorn' or 'prickle', and belonged to a nymph in Greek Mythology that was loved by Apollo. Valr Kyrja is a broken and loose variation of 'Valkyrie', given to every blood decent of Valhalla since before anyone can remember.
Title[s]: Valkyrie Queen is the only title she will claim, but does not throw it about in the land of Fire and Ice. It is nothing to her here.
Alias: Call her Acantha, nothing else.
Decent: Unknown. The Valkyries are of an unknown blood type, but likely of severely mutted line of several decents.
Age: Five Years
Gender: Female
Persona: Never was there scorn before Wrath, just as never was there turmoil before Acantha. Draped in a charlatan's silk, serpents encircle her throat like the finest diamonds, their whispers a drifting lullaby in her delicate ears. What say you, love, to murdering the mad? She is ruthless, daunting, a Valkyrie and courtesan with a flicker of the rogue. Nothing about her offers warmth, and her very semblance reeks of avarice. Ravenous eyes, so black in their wanting, covet all they touch, and though her compassion might be lacking, her fury is immense, and as unpredictable as any enraged viper.

Courtesan's envy the angel of Avarice, the father of vigilantism, with those come-hither eyes and curvy flanks dusted a liar's pearl. She acts as rashly and unpredictably as a spoiled child, Acantha does, spitfire spilling from those lovely lips with the ease of water through a sieve. Her feet appear dusted in soot and ash, as if she slumbered in the remnants of a burning building, and though her eyes smolder with umbrage, she appears flawless and eternally thriving. She was borne of fire, and it is the kindom of its nature to which she rules. Acantha, the Matriarch of Abiding Ire, laughs in the face of restraint and relishes in the destruction of Zion and resurrection of the Primal Law. She walks beside every viking of Alkatraz, prancing like a queen, tossing her head with a flourish of self-satisfaction. Rivals to her loathing tremble at her very presence and for every reptilian pleasure she calls to slither forth, a thousand wither in the same breath. Her love is a war, a string of hostilities wrought with cannibalistic indulgence and blind brutality. There was never a Sin more suited to abduct the name of thine highest archangel than that of Barbalo.

She is a hyena, never forget. How could we, darling? Never dream of it. Acantha is the sister to Ludovic, the brother to Malvolio, his counterpart and eventual murderer. As a mortal, she'd make any king bow down. As an immortal, she will make Him crumple before her. Best to play your cards with gargoyles. But when she danced across the red sky, her flanks dusted with gunpowder, the earth shakes.

Heart: She is bound to Damean Jagger and his Kingdom of Jabbar Junayd, thus it is safe to assume she is of the twisted, heartless type.
Motto: ----

X.Physical Traits.X
Peltage Hue: Beneath the cloak of fiery dye that clings to her back, shoulders and hips like a snug evening dress is the blunt cut of ivory silk. Her shimmering coat, porcelain in its false luster, clashes in a savage war with brilliant curls of dancing red and bland ash.
Occualr Hue: A hungry, ghoulish umber, shining hauntingly beneath a curtain of long, dark lashes.
Stands: 36'' at the shoulders
Weighs: 115 lbs of lean muscle.
Form: If eyes could ever feel the pangs of sweetened heart, or the prick of humble thorn, one might associate the sensation with Acantha. One might, if tempted, if deceived, call the woman "beautiful". Indeed heads of all ages and gender turn at the sight of this red-haired temptress, this previous Queen of Hearts. But rather than the expected smile of appreciative acceptance, or the haughty grin of a worshiped beauty, these adoring expressions would be met with impassive disinterest. With an uncaring wave of the hand, Acantha would only sigh, only smirk as one would deliver to an ignorant child. Foolish people. Silly vagrants. Have you never seen art before? Beneath the cloak of fiery dye that clings to her back, shoulders and hips like a snug evening dress is the blunt cut of ivory silk. Her shimmering coat, porcelain in its false luster, clashes in a savage war with brilliant curls of dancing red, her mane a flurry of fire. Her face, crafted meticulously like the point of an arrow head, is a stunning facade of frigid, unaffected dissatisfaction. The face that launched a thousand ships. Indeed, to a painters eye her mask is beautiful, breathtaking. But even the most alluring of palettes can be ruined with an expression of the utmost smugness. The most malicious of heartless glances. Her eyes, a hungry, ghoulish umber, shine hauntingly beneath a curtain of long, dark lashes. Her gaze, however enticingly strange, however gorgeously foreign, only mirrors the flat chill of her heart; she is, bluntly, unmoved by anything. Her eyes are those of a playful, lying child. Which hand is the penny in? Go, on. Guess.
Physical Distortions: None immeadiately visable.

X.Family Tree.X
Sire: Thanatos Valr Kyrja [Previous King of Valhalla; Dead]
Dame: Larissa Valr Kyrja [A Queen by Thanatos, previously no one important; Dead]
Brothers: Ludovic Varr Kyrja, Malvolio Valr Kyrja
Sisters: Bellatrix Valr Kyrja
Partner: None
Whelps: Lyzelle, Danae, and Adonis
Challengers: Many, but she suspects she left them behind in the land of Silver Rain, and/or Amaranthine.
Minions: None, currently.
Rank: Unknown. She haunts Damean's step, prances at his feet, but he doesn't appear to notice her devotion.

X.Background.X
Life Story: Her history rests in plundering of kingdoms, and the seduction and annihilation of their respective lords. In her wake, metropolises fall. Whole civilizations uproot and flee in preparation for her coming, for that was how she was raised, and how she began life. Before her eyes had opened to tease the hearts of many, she was a murderer. Larissa, the beautiful Queen of Valhalla, died shortly after giving birth. It destroyed Thanatos, his empire, his people. And then, one day, another woman stood above the royal children and cast a spell over Valhalla. Her name? Ilithyia. Within a year, the child learned the devious ways of the true Valkyrie woman, and became what she is. Upon leaving her Kingdom, the Heiress killed both Ilithyia and the fool Thanatos, placing her sister in charge of Valhalla. What happened between then and now, no one knows.
Place of Birth: Valhalla