After the disappearance of her kits (not a loss, never a loss; she would get them back, she had to) there had been a fog, a weighted, disorienting fog that left her mind useless and her mouth full of cotton, and only occasionally was there something to break through — like a lighthouse breaking through the mist, guiding the boats away from the rocky shores or shallow waters. Her light was not a pleasant one. It grieved, it got angry, it left her confused until the fog eventually returned and she forgot all about it. But in those moments, she sometimes found herself in the prisoners' den, facing down the monster that broke her in the first place, not seeing a face or a person but instead a shadow, a devilish creature, a beast. Kate had a name, but it was never to be spoken aloud. Slowly, mainly due to Kier, the fog began to fade — despite her outbursts, her unresponsiveness, her confusion, he only showed her love and sincerity, pampered her and cared for her, let her live a blissful lie no matter how much it hurt him to do so —  but it left a a residual numbness, a hint of grief and a raging, furious sea. She needed her kits back, she needed to wipe out the League, she needed to make her suffer. 

Having her so close had originally made Eris nervous, paranoid. But the feeling eventually faded, and with it came the realization that she could do anything she wanted to Kate; Kier, certainly, had taken his own hand at things, and nobody would dare question her. The power-trip was intoxicating. When the fog had lifted, visits to Kate were almost a routine, frequent enough to ensure she was always hurting, always suffering, but spaced out enough so she wouldn't die. Eris would rid them of her eventually, of course, but not yet, not until she broke, not until she shattered. It seemed an impossible task, because Kate always had something to say, something grating and challenging and snarky, as if Eris hadn't ripped her to shreds, as if she wasn't starving and beaten and powerless, and it only made her angrier, more viscous, more desperate. It made Eris wonder why she had broken so easily compared to her. 

Thank you ma'am, may I have another? Her paw was raised as if to deliver another strike, eyes aflame. With a high-pitched, frustrated growl, the paw snapped forward, but instead of delivering another blow to her face, she gripped it in between her claws, pulling Kate close until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Eris' breath was hot and angry. 

"You are lucky I don't kill you where you stand, filth." She hissed, low and threatening, before pushing Kate away, into the floor. She snapped a glare at the surrounding prisoners, and with only the glint of her eyes they quieted. She reached for one of Kate's paws just as she let go, gripping her foreleg with her claws, tight enough to ensure that blood bubbled and dripped, and pulled forward, twisting. "If excitement is what you want," the lowness was gone, replaced with a poisonously sweet, gleeful tone, "how about we get rid of these pretty little claws, or those pretty little teeth. Hm? Render you weaker than a newborn, as you would know. Would you like that? Is that more your speed?" Her grip tightened. 

At Kate's laugh, Eris only squeezed harder, claws tearing through skin and drawing jagged lines whenever they shifted. She wouldn't stop talking, and even in her pitiful state she felt the need to edge Eris on, to be above her, to rub it in. If Eris weren't so angry, so bitter, so hateful and self-centered, she might have commended her will, might have envied it, but she only felt a bubbling rage. It was like an echo, spiting the worst of her thoughts right back into her face — weak, weak, weak, it said, and so did Kate. I should have killed you that night. Her eyes flashed, gleaming gold in the dim light. "If you had, they'd never have found your bones." 

The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be. What Eris truly wanted to ask was why — why did she have to accept it, why did she have to live with it, why did she have to pester Kate that night and why did Kate have to react — but the words never left her mouth. Instead, she released her grip on Kate's forearm and stepped back, just once, staring down at her as if she were a vile thing.

"Power?" She reared the conversation back, adamant on ignoring anything to do with her kits. The words were a harsh, dangerous hiss. "Foolish girl — you want to see power?" With a glare over her shoulder and a flick of her tail, two guards bustled through the entrance, stopping just behind her, expectant. "This is power. Hold her," with another step back, she let the guards share a look of brief question before one of them stepped forward, pushing Kate to the ground and placing a large paw on her temples, claws piercing her skin. Eris nodded towards a large, solitary stone, too heavy for most to push on their own, let alone Eris, but the other guard nodded anyway, padding over to circle it before leaning down to shoulder-shove it over. It scraped the ground. 

As the guard worked on pushing the rock over, Eris reached out once more and pulled Kate's arm towards her, grip just as tight as before, straightening it. The rock paused just in front of it. "We're trying something a little different today. Call it morbid curiosity, a test of sorts, I don't care — let's see how long it takes for you to beg me to stop." With another nod, the guard pushed the rock forward, struggling for a moment, before it fell heavily onto Kate's outstretched foreleg. "Or, perhaps you'd prefer to lose your whole arm — circulation will cut off soon, after all, and it's only so long until it doesn't come back." 

Eris snorted, but it was near humourless, "what could you possibly know about real power? It doesn't really matter why they do it, it only matters that they do. Eventually the old ones will die out, hopefully sooner rather than later," the guards shared a look, "and all that'll be left are the little ones who've known nothing else. I see them, you know, how callous they can be, how eager they are to get ahead." She laughed. "The look of admiration in their eyes is unmistakable. That's respect. Who looks at you like that?" While Eris spoke, she paced, eyes anywhere but Kate — truthfully, she hated looking at her, she felt a coil of disgust every time, and only when she was truly angry, in an utterly bloody mood, did she look at her at all. Mostly, she only offered quick glances, hateful, icy ones, enough to make sure she wasn't rearing up to strike, to finally fight back. Though, it was almost entertaining how little she had. 

And then, her eyes caught sight of Kate's movement, the digging, the looseness under the rock, and she leapt forward, scrambling to grab hold of the digging limb and pin it back. She shifted her back legs until they stood firm on the rock, half-leaned forward for a moment until she pulled back, unpinning Kate's arm and perching on the stone, paws smooshed together for space. It shifted beneath her weight, willing to press further into the space Kate had dug. Eris' breath was uneven — the caves, probably, clogging her lungs. 

After a moment of uneven, tense silence, Eris leaned forward again, slithery and snake-like, reaching a paw out and dancing her claws across Kate's cheek, delicately sinister. "You," the movement stopped, and they rested just under Kate's eye, "are like a little cockroach, aren't you? Think you can survive anything? Well," applying more pressure, she continued, "if you do escape, if you do run back to the League, we'll be waiting there, too. Haven't you heard? Kier's planning an ambush, to pick them off while they're sleeping." She laughed gleefully. "And, oh, I'm half tempted to bring you just to watch, but I'll just tell you how it goes after, instead." 

She sighed, worn, as if Kate were a trouble-making kit. Something she should be dealing with instead, Eris thought idly. "You really are making this difficult, you know? Breaking you. Truthfully, I've run out of ideas; I'm thinking on just getting it over with. Usually I work on rats — though you aren't too different, I suppose Ý or whatever corpse I can dig up. There's plenty around here." Resting her paw back on the stone and taking a moment to balance herself (something she'd never been good at, truthfully), she flashed Kate a smile, but it was cold, like a warning — she'd continue, if she didn't get what she wanted. Guilt was not something that came easy to Eris, it wasn't something she bothered with. Corpses were things, no semblance of life, and if she so wanted, Kate would be among them, a disappointment that she didn't get what she wanted out of it but nothing more than a passing thought. "Now, I can tell you don't want to lose a limb, so I'll remove this stone if you beg for it. Come on, just say the words — please, Eris, please be merciful for me — I want to hear you ask nicely."