In Dire Straits
[PRP] can you hear the angels singing - Printable Version

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can you hear the angels singing - reiss. - January 04, 2019

He followed the troop of children running excitedly through the forests from the ocean. He’d been lingering around their border for some time, his tired bones longing for refuge, but watched from a distance. He couldn't make the mistake of being thrown into hell again. He had suffered long enough. When they left, the cheerful tunes of children lured him from his feet and he smiled as children danced and played with no cares in the world. 

He wished his children could have tasted that freedom, that innocence. 

He wished a lot of things, but the stars always... had other plans. 

Reiss endured the solitude freedom brought, but it was beginning to take its toll. Every crunch of a leaf or branch left him clawing at his face, desperate to cover himself from whatever lurks ahead. Molten scars were constantly torn open in an attempt to batter himself unrecognizable -- all in hopes Saboro would never see his face again. It was beginning to be too much. Bane haunted him. Shadon haunted him. They stalked him through the endless loops of his nightmares and their terrifying red eyes followed him like flies to a corpse.

The group continued, too far for his old bones, and he rested for a while under the shade of a pine tree. He fell asleep to the distant laughter of children, and for once, he slept peacefully. 

-- 

When he woke, he could smell fresh blood. He'd been starving. Unable to hunt anything bigger than a squirrel for months, the limp wolf made his way to the corpse with haste. It lay untouched, aside from the eyes being plucked out and a single fatal wound. His instincts get the better of him, and he begins to indulge himself with the fattiest portion of the elk's belly. 

He couldn't hear over the sound of his hunger.

RE: can you hear the angels singing - Sol Katti - January 18, 2019


SOL KATTI

It was just before the moon hung
Her weary heavy head in
The gallows and the graves of
The milky milky cradle
His tears have turned to poppies
A shimmer in the midnight
A flower in the twilight
A flower in the twilight

And our screaming
Is in his screaming
Our screaming in the willow
      Her children had begun to wander further and further from the safety of their willow tree, for their minds and bodies have grown too big for the confines of their small plot of land, and there was nothing Sol Katti could do to keep them close forever. The feeling left her… lost. Uncertain in ways the speckled woman had never encountered before.

When days would go by, she would wonder if they were warm. If they were safe. If perhaps they had found something beautiful that made them happy — in her quietest moments her thoughts almost drift to other spotted children.

(And sometimes she can hear the echo of faraway poppy flowers. She tries not to make out their voices).

Today, she follows Maeva’s scent. For the gray girl is as curious as her namesake and a foreign twist in her chest plagues Sol Katti every time the child doesn’t come home. The runaway Sabora does her best not to reign the wayward girl in — she does her best to allow all of them their freedom. She had told them all of the stories she could had given them all the warnings and lessons. Zasha often assures her that they are good, that they are smart.

(Sometimes she wonders if the twist in her chest is what Tyrfing had felt all those years ago)

The scent of blood intertwined with something faintly familiar washes over Maeva’s scent, and tendrils of ice begin to creep into the spotted mother’s veins —

Mother… I have a..a gift, and I want to share with you,

Her pace quickens, heart thudding and scarlet tattoos burning.

I found another boy the other night while exploring the first ring. He isn’t like me,

The echoes of poppies in the distance come closer and closer. She can hear his voice — childish and sweet and terrible.

He didn’t have a good mother; a mother who wouldn’t abandon him; no, his mother decided to leave him out in the cold. He’s lucky to of found me you see, because I want him, and I know I can give him to a better life with you and I.

A meadow of small white flowers stretched out before her, nestled in a circle of pine trees. Sol Katti sees him there, scarred almost beyond recognition—

You’re good to me. He would come to care for you just as I do if you were his Mom too.

But she was Sabora — she never forgot them. She never forgot any of them.

What is this boy’s name? I want to meet him first.

“REISS—”

Bane’s pet. Bane’s little love. Bane’s DOG. Had her fake son sent the boy out in search of Saboro’s sovereigns? Had he found little Maeva to bring back to his master? Bane had always loved his father, had always been loyal to Coven alone. All his affection and sweet words a façade to avoid Knife and Kedavra’s fate.

Bane would see her children as a betrayal, her new life with Zasha as treason — he would march Saboro to their former queen and burn her ancient willow to the ground.

“No—“ The Sovereign, the Sabora, the child-queen, the Crane’s daughter, the girl, Sol Katti… charges forward, jaws open wide.


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