[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

Being left to her own thoughts had never been a particularly healthy experience for Derringer, who thrived on pushing her emotions outward and venting them through the mistreatment of others. Though she once again found herself with one travel companion, Falcon was not Serrate and though the youth (not so young anymore, really) sometimes questioned why they left, or why they didn’t find a new home, she never found it in her to snark and snipe and argue with them like she had with her sister. Instead, she exhausted her efforts on survival; on hunting, on covering their tracks while remaining within a relatively small vicinity, on maintaining a state of high alert.

True to form, she was bitter, she was angry, she had regrets. They came to her easier during the hardest of times, when the cold brought a lack of prey and her ribs rippled beneath a ragged coat for months on end. It had occurred to her, more than once, to go back. Go back and make an excuse, go back and finally take what should have always been her’s, go back and apologize, go back –

Where? Gemini, Saboro… oftentimes the two melded in her mind, not as a symptom of psychosis or dementia but because in so many ways her experience felt one in the same. She couldn’t – or wouldn’t – return to either place, and no other pack would do. Derringer found herself planning what she would say, who she would say it to, and then she would throw herself more into the hunting and the tracking and the new purpose she had forged for herself.

No longer a Queen. Never again a traitor.

---

Yes, we have permission from Pride.

[Absinthe]

Two things had happened that Absinthe least expected before leaving. Something along the lines of a Girl King's blessing are given, and an Unemployed Bodyguard begrudgingly accepting a pauper's company. It would not have mattered for either of the two to occur, it would not have changed the path the angry daughter took, but created obstaclest, and ones she would've overcome with ire and sharp teeth. They would never hold her back here, not the way Saboro had, with its blood shackles and family chains. Absinthe was free here, although she did not believe it, not entirely.

'What will  you do when you find her?' a voice coos, but she could not place who it belonged to, although it was the Good that sat atop her shoulder, who sounded so much like her unconscious Aunt. 'Grovel, cry, or piss yourself?' came another one, the Evil that cackled and sounded like her own. Absinthe shakes her head free of those thoughts and glances towards Gaius, "Did I ever tell you why I wanted the pelts?"

"I know I said I have a mission," she continues, whether he accepts her invitation to conversation or not. "I don't think I told you about it. I'm going to find who those monsters belong to," and it was a dream, she realizes, as she now knows just how big the world is outside of Saboro.. outside of Gemini. "I need to know.. the Queen deserves to know.. if it was.. her sister.. who sent them.." her voice fades, it trails off like they've been doing for hours, for days? The territory is vast, it is repeating, she could have sworn she'd seen the same tree several times.

"I don't like the way it smells here," Absinthe lowers her voice now, she stops and feels a shock rippling through her, head turning with ears on a swivel to listen. "I hated this smell growing up," but she can't place it, she can't identify the smell itself beyond her own miserable memories. There is nothing here that she recalls from her youth, nothing of the Jungle, and yet.. she can see it all again, like before when Gaius had her pinned.

Something isn't right, she feels it bubbling deep within her guts. Something smells too much like home to be right.

[Gaius]

Their traveling so far had been relatively painless; Absinthe had been lesser of a pain to him than expected, although they weren’t the overly chatty duo together, it suited the brute of a companion just fine. Of course his focus was more upon where they were going, deep crimson eyes constantly scouring the endless sea of green before them, hoping to spot any instance of reddish brown lingering where not searched before. Gaius eventually wanted to head toward Saboro, that only being an inkling of an idea as to who might’ve taken the dark Queen, if that was so much the case. If not…

Words cut his thoughts as he grist his teeth, eyes shifting to the corner of his sights to glance at his companion as she began speaking. “No.” A simple answer, raising his brow closest to her in indication of mild curiosity, although he wouldn’t pry if she’d be obnoxious about it. Perhaps luckily for him, he didn’t need to do much of anything as she continued talking, Gaius was unaware if this was meant to fill the silent void (which he was completely fine with) or if she truly did care enough to tell him. “Monsters?” He scoffs somewhat, although it was more objective as he started to realize she was quite comparative in her speaking. Monsters, flies, for a fleeting moment he wondered what she would compare him to (other than an ass, more than likely.)

With a tired sigh he considers what she’s saying, lifting his lips up as his tongue swipes across his teeth. “You may think rather poorly of her, but to send wolves to attack the King…?” Gaius recalls the day they were born, the day he stood beside Derringer in the storm— he imagines her face, her focus on the intruder and who he might’ve been in relation to Saboro. That wasn’t a woman who would condemn death on her own sister’s children, was it? The same woman who so feared the demons she ran from coming back to finding her haven? “I doubt it.” His words weren’t overly convincing, but enough that he’d argue his point if she tried to deny it. She doesn’t know her, a whisper in his own mind. But did Gaius? Perhaps he was the ignorant one of the two.

Stopping beside Absinthe, his relaxed position reverted into something more alerted, now with his head raised to attempt to pick up on this uncomfortable smell she’s referring to; while he couldn’t pinpoint that exactly, he couldn’t deny an unfavourably sharp sense of something. The area didn’t sit well with him either, but his first jump wasn’t to assume it was her. Wouldn’t that just be too easy for a woman who remained so elusive and non-existent for months? Who knows. Swallowing, he braced himself, allowing her to talk out her woes as he swayed his tail behind him, daringly close to raising it like a flag in defensive warning to whatever was lingering. “There’s something,” he’d murmur to her, as vague and unhelpful as it sounded. It had been awhile since he’d ventured through the void of unknown, but he still maintained his skillful alarm when something just wasn’t quite right.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

She had never gone far.

Maybe it didn’t make sense – after all, she had willingly left the territory and really wanted nothing more to do with Gemini – but Derringer couldn’t seem to bring herself to wander aimlessly for months upon months upon… years. Sometimes she felt an itch, an uncomfortable sensation crawling in her mind, an impulse to do something, and she liked to imagine herself walking into Saboro’s territory and ripping them apart one by one until she found her. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end to all of it, if she were to actually find Halberd, if she managed to wrap her jaws around her mother’s throat and crush that life after the hell they’d all been put through?

Derringer wanted nothing more. It would be one more debt repaid, and the sweetest vengeance she had ever tasted in her life. It would be worth all of it, leaving Saboro and giving up her once chance to be Sabora, leaving Gemini and giving up her last chance to be the sole Queen of anything -- and she found herself looking, if almost subconsciously, keeping an eye out and an ear to the ground, not just for the sake of her sister and that godforsaken pack she’d left behind, but on the off chance that she and her mother might cross paths on their travels. She could hardly imagine Halberd leaving the jungle, but she remembered what her mother had said to her all those years ago – the Matriarch alone was exempt to the rules, she alone could waltz out of the territory at will and not worry about being hunted down.

If the Redbone got bitten by the travel bug and wandered too close to the sanctuary of her failed protégé, Derr was determined she would find her first. And maybe even that was an act of petty selfishness – she didn’t care what sort of revenge her sister might want, Serrate could mope about how awful it was that Halberd had given her everything for as long as she wanted, but if Derringer found their mother first, she wouldn’t spare anything for her sister.

Derringer glanced up briefly at the sky, pinpointing the location of the sun and making sure it wasn’t too close to the horizon. She and Falcon often split up, dividing their tracking efforts so that when it came time to hunt, they had knowledge of a wider area and a better idea of the prey’s movements through it. The forest tended to mask scent better than any open area, and the various sounds that filtered through made it hard to single out more substantial prey from everything else – still, she kept her senses alert, moving steadily through the maze of trees and brush, head low, seeking out a trail.

A voice broke her reverie, causing Derr to go almost entirely still, with ears swiveling to pinpoint the direction they were coming from, nose trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Plenty of other nomadic rogues came through the area occasionally, but it didn’t make her any less wary of them until she knew they were truly strangers. She moved slowly, trying her best to be silent, until she heard them again. The voices caused her to freeze for real this time, hackles going stiff without her even thinking about it – there was something familiar about the way they sounded, too familiar for her to just be imagining it.

For a second she imagined running. Derringer didn’t fancy any confrontations, but running before she knew who she was dealing with wouldn’t be very useful to the former Queen. She couldn’t imagine why her sister would send anybody to find her – hadn’t Serrate only ever wanted peace, hadn’t she always hoped Derringer would just leave her alone? Plus, nearly a year later… no, it wouldn’t make sense for it to be Gemini. That really left only one other option, though – and if Saboro was on her trail, if they were this close to Gemini, she couldn’t not warn the pack. That was her purpose now – or so she told herself, anyway.

Derr moved deliberately toward the two voices, pushing her way through a gap in a cluster of bushes, knowing they would see (or at least hear) her coming and therefore tensing up, ready to take off if running was on the menu. It only took her a couple of short moments to recognize the both of them, eyes widening just slightly as they went from Absinthe to Gaius, unable to decide which to linger on; both were a surprise, and while she hadn’t seen Absinthe in years and had never guessed her daughter would come looking, Gaius was a different feeling; potential. They could have been something – partners, allies, companions – and when her thoughts deviated from their pattern of self-centered reflection, she often considered him, and whether he could possibly understand why she had left without a word.

True to her nature, however, there was no dramatic emotional reaction – instead, a wry smile slowly came across her muzzle, head lifting from its cautious position at chest level, tail raising just slightly. It was almost triumph she felt, realizing they were looking after all, and it gleamed in her eyes, their carmine irises glinting with something like amusement. ”Took you long enough.”

[Absinthe]

First, he listens. Then, he questions. Absinthe had regretted opening her mouth to explain the mission the moment a word sputtered out. Her mother's biggest fan boy, and here she is, ripping down Derringer's posters from his walls, purely out of spite. ' You have to hate her! ' a teenage girl cries out, ' BECAUSE I HATE HER! ' she cries again, slamming fists against a wall. But Absinthe is no teenager, not anymore. She is grown, with the shriveled heart of an angsty child.

' I doubt it ', he denies her theory, but based on what? Fleeting moments between the two, ones where Absinthe imagines Gaius the damsel in distress and her mother the dragon, reaching around him with talons and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until he admits fealty. Maybe it was what kept her in Saboro, some strange mental disorder, a syndrome perhaps, where torture felt like home. Whatever it is, the girl scoffs at his dismissal and raises her head.

The scent fills the area now, and if she took the moment to listen and not smell, she would hear the approaching footfalls of an insect, creeping and stalking through the grass towards its prey, caught right in its trap. It is the nose that emerges first, followed by the devil's eyes, and the form of a ghost, or someone Absinthe dearly wished was spectral, or an illusion, or.. or..

Her heart begins to race, green eyes blazing, wide at first, and narrowed as teeth began to show. ' Took you long enough, ' came the mocking voice of a mocking dog. 'TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH,' the smile of a demon etched in the clouds of a calm, coming storm.

"Derringer!" a voice- her own?- Absinthe nearly forgets the way she sounds, but her mouth does not fail her, not like her memory had. "Spawn of Halberd and Katar," her paws push her forward, she takes a skin from her back and thrusts it forward at the woman, teeth releasing to allow the mangled coat to lay before Derringer. The other one followed, and they lay a mess now, but Absinthe does not take the time to give monster's the courtesy of an unruffled coat. "Turncoat of Saboro," she steps forward once more, but no more. Now, she stands tall and so many feet away from the mongrel, who grinned and joked like nothing had ever happened, like she hadn't run away again and again.

"Deserter of Gemini and it's inhabitants," tongue now licks over her jaws, she is not grinning, but she wants to, she wants so desperately to mock her own mother at the time. "As permitted by the New King Akira, I hereby call A Trial of Betrayal, for crimes comitted against the Kingdom, and crimes against children," Absinthe barely glances to Gaius, she had spoken of a talk with Akira, but never the contents. Would he have allowed her to go, had he known? "I will serve as your judge and jury," and if need be, your executioner.

"You are charged with the murder of one, Young King Tauro, by way of assassins, their pelts as evidence lay before you, should you recall their names upon commission.. if they gave you good ones.. it would please.. the court.. to know them," because whispering who she believed them to be was never as satisifying as knowing who they truly are. "You are.. charged.. with the assault and torture of.. children, YOUR CHILDREN -" OR SHOULD IT BE JUST ONE? Did Indigo or Icarus suffer, were they chosen like she was, or did they live their lives untouched but by the disease that riddled their blood by way of their mother. She had never spoken to them to find out, but here was a time for confessions. Here, now, before the Sun and the Moon, and their witnesses, The Stars, Derringer would find judgment.

"What.. do you say to your charges, traitor?" there was no innocent before proven guilty. Not here, not when the sentence was predetermined before speaking to the New King, not when her plans had been in place since waking up with Echo, joined later by Serrate, with no inclination as to where her wayward mother truly was. Absinthe wanted nothing more then to watch Derringer squirm, to deny deny DENY! and to berate her. There was no winning, not for either party. Absinthe wanted Gaius to witness the truth behind those stormy red eyes.

She feels foolish baying like a hound who caught scent of a fox, she feels silly as she stands tall and holds her head high, but she has never felt so powerful, so commanding, or so in control in her entire, pitiful life.

[Gaius]

With stoic features and hawk-like eyes, the bred mercenary watched their surrounding area with precision to get an inkling of an idea as to what—or who—was there. It was probably a good thing that Absinthe shut her mouth long enough for both of them to take advantage of their hearing; listening for growls, footfalls and any inclination of movement was far more important than the details of whatever anti-hero mission it was she felt was her life’s destiny. Or perhaps it was just a hobby, he truly didn’t understand the Saboran girl enough to get at where her thought process went sometimes.

The scent, albeit disgustingly familiar didn’t rattle the male’s core quite as much as the face that appeared before them. Gaius, a conflicted beast in his right mind viciously hoped it wasn’t going to be her. He wanted to find her, but he didn’t want to know the truth when they did. The socially inept, abandoned lackey didn’t know just what he’d do if he saw her dark face again; how he would handle confronting the woman who he’d defended, the woman he nearly starved for days looking for, the woman who he felt so much of something for that he’d yelled at the reigning Queen in Gemini. The woman who, ultimately, left him.

The one truth he didn’t want to believe, and yet here she was.

”Took you long enough.”

With all the willpower in his aching, burning bones he maintained his composure while staring her square in the face. A face that he once saw nearly every day; now, before him, she should have been better off a ghost. Sharp, fire consumed eyes looked across her familiar appearance to see if she’d gained any new scars, anything to prove that she’d been forced off the land by her own will, to prove to him that she didn’t run away, that she didn’t actively chose to leave. To prove that he was not championing for her for nothing. His eyes betrayed him too, as there was nothing; nothing but a perhaps slightly underweight scavenger who made a fatal mistake; and for what? Derringer, the once Queen, the once surrounded by support, the once source of loyalty and devotion, was now nothing to him but another wolf that he knew a name and a face.

“Fuck you.” He’d manage to gutturally exhale, almost inaudibly; confirming to himself that she did the exact thing he’d never forgive her for. But he’d humour the thought; wanting to know just exactly what her golden, overly calculating and worthy excuse was for trailing him along, leading him into false hope of trust, bond and blooming on even beyond that— But he would have to ask this after, as his dying, harrowing focus turned to his smaller, pale-faced pack mate as she began spewing the strangest of accusations. Gaius wouldn’t let on how angry he was beyond his childish hiss toward Derringer, his face constructed of a being who still, to this day, perfected the poker face in lieu of properly learning emotions. Therefore, he would do the same for Absinthe; even if the words she were spitting made no sense.

He wanted to sigh. He wanted to snap at her scarred throat to shut up. He wanted to yell at her to stop making up accusations. He wanted to push her aside and lung at the traitorous, ex-Queen dragon in front of them— all of these action plans cycled in his head as Absinthe’s words continued to become a hum against his ears, no longer deeming any relevance to the triumphant speech she garbled before both of them; a hint of annoyance struck his nerves in that she didn’t explain any of this to him until this moment, but lucky for her; Gaius was particularly good at improvisations. The gist of what he got was that Akira had made some arrangement with Absinthe; a royal decree of justice.

Shifting his weight, the brute of a fringe attempted to knocked shoulders with Absinthe a little less than gently as he tried to get her to shut her damn mouth for a second, a moment so he could hear the sweet sound of silence again. He wanted to hear her breathing, he wanted to hear that betraying laugh as he could only assume was brewing in her belly as she likely was dying waiting for this moment. Gaius wanted to hear it all before he would no longer have to hear it ever again; if there was one thing he knew how to do well, it was rip the words out of another’s throat and suck the life out of their lungs.

He wondered if Derringer remembered.

“Explain yourself.” Not just for whatever nonsense her daughter spewed— but for why she’d condemn him to the past few months of misery and guilt.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

Her ears swivel almost nonchalantly as Gaius’ retort reaches them, eyes glancing over at him once more, appraising, amused, and wondering (not for the first time) how he had reacted to her disappearance. Was it some form of relief, that there was no longer a demanding presence looming, watching his every action, ready to smite him and strike him down should he not meet her expectations? Was it something else – had he sensed what she would have given him? Power, prestige… and more, a status that could only come from binding blood with royalty. Did he think about that, did he understand that when she had chosen him, she had chosen him for far more than a fighting partner?

Apparently, he was angry – and maybe that was it, maybe he could only find it to be bitter about her departure, for whatever reasons he had. Maybe, if the depths of his understanding did not reach her true motivations, he at least had some idea that they, the two of them, were going somewhere together, that she looked at him as something more than the average Recruit, and maybe being abandoned after all that slow burn had caused him to become vengeful. She wouldn’t know.

Her daughter, on the other hand… Derringer’s gaze moved to Absinthe as the girl spoke her name, staring inquisitorially at the pelts on her back, scraping over the scars on her body, many put there by herself. Those memories felt like a dream, they were so long ago; she was barely an adult herself when she had given birth, and apart from overall neglecting her children she had chased stories of what her sister at done at the borders, how the younger Serrate had overcome an adult because she’d been provoked far enough. Derringer had wanted to know then – could she do it? If not, could her children? Absinthe, resembling their bloodline far more than her two siblings, had seemed an obvious choice to attempt it with.

It had never come to fruition, of course. Instead, those choices were just another set of dominoes that had brought them all here, with her daughter giving her such a grand introduction that it only made Derringer’s smile broaden – until the pelts were thrown at her paws. She couldn’t help herself, leaned down to sniff them curiously, obvious bewilderment shifting over her expression before she lifted her head, ready to ask why the hell her daughter had brought her a gift that she couldn’t eat – but Absinthe continued, monologuing in a way that Derringer would have been proud of if it had been a trait she recognized or prized in herself.

Look who’s talking, she thinks, smile only more wry, eyes flashing – turncoat? Weren’t they all, really – herself and Absinthe, Serrate and Valkryie, Avery and Skadi… and the rest of the group that helped them, that formed Gemini’s ranks, would be viewed almost the same. Definitely enemies, if nothing else – but that was beside the point. Derr was more intrigued by the “deserter” part – so her sister apparently hadn’t cottoned on to why she’d left, and so neither had anyone else. Oh, how rich. After wishing that Derringer would just leave her alone – hell, hadn’t Serrate effectively asked her to do as much at some point? – now her sister would name her deserter?

She did laugh, a short little mirthless breath of exasperation. Oh, of course – Serrate would champion the right for anybody else to waltz out of Gemini whenever they wanted, but apparently Derringer couldn’t just up and fuck off without the ice Queen getting her wolfpants in a twist. She was ready to put an end to the ridiculous tirade, and apparently Gaius was as well, if the rough knock of his shoulder into Derr’s daughter said anything – but she patiently listened on, only for true confusion to take over.

King Akira? Last she’d checked, Akira was a girl – and literally at that, just a child, though much closer to being grown than she had been when Derringer left of course. Beyond that, this indicated that Serrate had already passed on the throne – or had it been taken? The thought rankled, stirred in her chest, a hot heat of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite name – similar to fear, but it was less personal this time, a sort of bitterness at the idea that somebody else could have toppled her sister, coupled with… what? A sense of protectiveness, lingering from when they had traveled together?

And what crimes had she committed? If Serrate wasn’t Queen anymore, she had either retired early – or was her daughter some Saboro-influenced tyrant that had snatched the throne from her mother and now wanted Derringer hunted down for leaving? Her hackles began bristling automatically, teeth clenched, barely holding onto the patience to wait out the list of accusations, but of course rolling her eyes when her daughter proclaimed herself to be the sole decision-maker here, because of course that would guarantee her such a fair trial, wouldn’t it?

What Absinthe said next, however, left her shocked. Derringer even lost the initiative to keep her hackles bristled, drawing back slightly with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. Tauro was dead..? King Tauro – so had her sister passed on the throne to her son, and had an angry, bitter, vengeful daughter (sound familiar, anyone?) struck him down and stolen the title for herself? Oh, it was believable enough – in Saboro, anyway, and Derringer had grown up there, was still too used to the deceit and subterfuge and cutthroat jungle to not immediately be suspicious. Her own experiences likely colored her assumptions of course, but she could see it too clearly in her mind.

Absinthe wanted names – but Derringer wasn’t going to be a good source of that. She stared down at the pelts again, wondering if they were Saboran – leaned down and sniffed them once more, trying to discern some trace of the jungle. They were red and black and strangers to her, these twisted women from another place and another twisted story entirely. One of them was another daughter of another angry mother, but Derringer didn’t know that. She stared at their fur, stared at two stories that had been told already, lingering legends, remnants of another tyrannical empire that she had never heard of – and she looks up, shaking her head lightly. And like that, they are ghosts.

She looks up at the final accusation, stares at her daughter, wonders if Absinthe thinks that Indigo and Icarus went through what she had – something she’s locked up, something she doesn’t think about, because she’s a monster but even she knows that there are some things that are too heinous to excuse. She wanted to know and she was barely more than a child herself (and yet there they are, Derringer, those excuses) and she’d thought that if she could figure out what made that power within her sister tick, she could unwrap it and expose it and use it to further her own agenda.

It had never worked. Derringer had ripped and torn and taunted and the screams went unnoticed because screams were too common in Saboro, and she had told her daughter this was happening because of the Poppy Queen and she had told her daughter that she was going to be important, she had promised her daughter that when she was Queen, Absinthe would be more than anybody else (“except me!” A mother’s voice echoing in a mother’s head) and then when none of it had worked, she had given into that frustration, she had told her daughter that she was broken and useless and she had left and she had made herself forget.

And never breathed a word of it. Serrate would have killed her, she thinks, or left her, Serrate would have never stomached the knowledge that her sister, as evil and corrupted and selfish and petty as Derringer could be, had gone so far as to torture her own daughter to try and learn something that would make her more powerful. And even now, as she stares, she thinks that if Absinthe had possessed the Fury, if her daughter was part of that cursed lineage and had reacted when she was smaller and not quite as dangerous, that their stories would be different. She would have known then what she knows now – that the Fury falls after a few short minutes, that once it’s exhausted itself it’s helpless and vulnerable, and she would have marched into that clearing and taunted her sister and ran, ran until Serrate fell to her own weaknesses, and she would have turned and ended it all.

Absinthe could have killed her aunt, but instead…

”I didn’t kill him.” Her voice is sharp and angry because of all the things to be accused of, it would be something she had no part of, no knowledge of until this very moment. ”Why would I?” Her gaze snapped between the two of them, challenging their logic. ”I left, there’s nothing there for me – I gain nothing from his death.” Except Serrate’s weakness. The thought echoes in her head, taunting and reminding and tempting – would her sister be broken now, unable to face the world because her precious sanctuary had been breached, these two strangers ripping through and destroying what was most precious to the Solar Queen?

Hadn’t she warned her? Not to trust, not to relax – that they had to be paranoid, that they had to protect and sacrifice so that the ones that really mattered wouldn’t suffer because Serrate wanted to provide a safe haven and allow anybody to come and go as they pleased? ”I told you once that I tried to kill Serrate.” She looks at Gaius, implores him to begin to understand. ”And you know what I am.” An admission of guilt to the last charge, at least, staring at her daughter now. ”Do you think I would have stopped?”

She stared at Absinthe, because her daughter understands more than Gaius ever can what Saboro was like, how Derringer was, wrathful and vengeful and angry and brutal and murderous and ready to tear anybody apart to achieve power, control. ”Falcon learned from me, and Falcon was the one that suggested I start taking control back in another way. And I would have. I wanted to. Everything –“ she looks back to Gaius, now, ”Our partnership, the new territory, all of it, I was looking for control. But Serrate…” She laughs, short, bitter, tired. Oh, she’s so tired of her sister’s charisma, her kindness. Why couldn’t she just be cruel and bitter like everybody else, and make Derringer’s job easier?

”They were flocking to her, like moths to the sun. And Gemini isn’t Saboro. I couldn’t have taken it if I tried. In Saboro, I was left alone until I failed. They watched, her loyal subjects, to see if somebody stronger would take control from her. That would never happen in Gemini. And I couldn’t stand to see her continue to endanger it – all of it. Including her own children, apparently.” She looks at the pelts again, muzzle wrinkling in disgust. She blames the death of Tauro on her sister.

She has no idea how right she is.

”She wanted to let anybody in. She wanted to let anybody leave. She was willing to risk loyal members to rescue a few broken souls from that hell. She was willing to risk her entire pack on the chance that she would let a spy in and out of our borders unknowingly.” Blame, blame, blame, it was always Serrate’s fault, Serrate who could have just given up, Serrate who should have just allowed her sister to take the throne all those years ago, passively stood aside. Maybe Derringer would have let her live. Maybe they would have formed a partnership of their own. But the Spider had maintained control of her web until the two of them took flight, Icarus’ wings briefly restored.

”I didn’t send them.” Again she looks at the pelts, then back up to Absinthe and Gaius. ”I apologized to Serrate, years ago, before we ever left Saboro. She never believed me. So I left. I gave her peace. That’s all she ever wanted from me, was to be left alone – and I gave it to her. Tell her she can consider it a debt paid – I’m not going back. She never has to worry about me at her heels, ever again. I’m done.”

But then the thought occurs, as she orders them to play messenger, as she imagines whether her sister will be relieved or disappointed or confused or unwilling to believe any of it. Hesitantly, unable to quell that curiosity, she has to ask -- ”Why is Akira the King..? Is Serrate… alive?”

[Absinthe]

How long was it since she'd last spoken, since her words of crime were sputtered out and her accusations called? Hours? Absinthe could feel her muscles tensing, relaxing, tensing, like waves at the beach of her newfound home. She feels minutes go by, watching Derringer's eyes as they blink, her mouth as she speaks, and every drop of saliva that swirls in the mongrel's mouth. It is the expressions she hones in on, it is that subtle hint of guilt that she searches for.

First Derringer denies it, claims there is nothing to gain, no purpose, but Absinthe is not fooled. They both came from Saboro. Every poppy that sways in the breeze is a life lost, for no other reason then 'just because', and their fields are beautiful, aren't they? For a moment, fleeting or eternal, she recalls the warmth of the sun on her bare belly as she lay in those fields, gazing up at the blue sky and wondering if this was it. A dog-eat-dog world where peaceful death is a myth and even the elements seek out your last breath.

Then, the accused admits fault, that Serrate's life is safer without her sister. Absinthe offers bared fingers at the admittance, a low growl emitting from her throat, a soft thundering rumble. "You said she could change, Gaius," but her gaze is unwavering, "I told you, didn't I? I told you she's not who you think she is. She's Saboran," but what does that make you, Absinthe?

The girl knows, all too well, she would like to gut the better half of Gemini for living happier lives and childhoods she never had. She dreams of the louder children suffocating with their anger and words, she sees them lay dead and cold like Aeon, but does not feel a thing. There was a nagging, a pulsing, a tearing at her heart that she knew too well to be bloodlust, so she bid adieu to her haven in search of a temporary fix, to sate her desires. How many times would she need to take these trips? How many is enough?

"I don't know who Falcon is, but I assure you, if he arrives, we will take care of him. You remember what treason is, don't you, mother?" a tail lashes, slaps against her thighs. She barely feels Gaius there, as he had nudged her hours- minutes- seconds ago? He is listening, and that is why he is the perfect partner. What she doesn't catch, he will.

"She was willing to risk her family to prove that you don't have to be like Saboro, is that what you thought? So you sent a lesson her way, huh?" but Derringer continues, ' I didn't send them ' she claims, but her daughter can no more believe that then her mother is a Saint. "We don't just let go, not our kind, not you or me. We don't let go of grudges, mother, we hold onto them until we kill them or they kill us," she snorts. "If I had learned to let go, I wouldn't be here, and who do you think I learned from the most? Not Coven, obviously," although her dad had taught her one thing: family is who you make it.

"You had them kidnap me. You had them knock me out when I was fighting for the land YOU LEFT ME IN, you had them drag me to Gemini and do you know who was there when I woke up? Do you know, O Great Mother O Mine, who it was who broke the news that you had disrupted my life and left me AGAIN?" she feels the dirt between her claws, realizing now she had begun to move forward, ever so slowly, and perhaps that is why her muscles are screaming. The tension is breaking, she can barely hold herself back.

"Serrate did, Serrate and some fuckin' fool named Echo, they told me, and it was of no surprise you turned tail and ran. Akira ascended where Tauro fell," a young girl with a crown, a tale as old as time, but this is not Saboro's blood swollen land. The story here has a different ending, Akira was no vindictive, greedy sister who challenged for the right. This story starts and ends in the Summer fields of Gemini, where the spray of a boy king's blood brings on the frosts of Winter.

"Do not tell her about Serrate," but who was she to command Gaius? "She doesn't deserve to know."

[Gaius]

There had always been the idea at the back of his mind as to just what kind of thing he was to Derringer. At first, he was likely just a piece of work that needed some hard beatings to put into place. He, in retrospect, would admit to this as his own personal reflection showed that he was far from favourable when he first stumbled upon Gemini. For many things, he could almost thank the dark woman for what she’d done; but he wouldn’t kiss her feet and beg for anything. Being trained and beat into a level of submission was not new to him, if she thought so highly of herself to believe this, she was far more vain than he’d imagined. But moreover, once they got passed the gristly bits was a meaty, rich bond that had been simmering there; perhaps even more of a fool’s gold being held in the hands of an abandoned companion as he mistook his worth to Derringer was a rib-eye; when really he was nothing but a slab of chuck; burned to ash.

Needless to say, this was a mistake—that while completely his own conclusion—would result in tossing the blame at Derringer’s feet and deal with the consequences therefrom. Gaius, was similar to both the Saboran born women he was surrounded by now in that was he could, and would, take grudges to his grave. Or perhaps it would be her grave now, as it was looking more and more like an uneven match. But what did Derringer truly expect? That after all this time; all this time, her loyal, stupid, idiotic male who thought he’d grown favourable to the Queen (and not even for his own benefit— Derringer would know that Gaius was not the sharpest tool in Gemini’s shed, for he didn’t grow up with that prized, caught after pining for whatever prestige royalty gave you) had searched in Gemini, outside Gemini, for miles, for days, for weeks until time became an enemy. Before he grew tired and angry and betrayed that she’d put him in this position.

That’d she’d leave him. After all he’d done. Was it not enough? Gaius briefly wondered why he even cared anymore. Unfortunately, deep down, he had some emotions; Derringer had scratched at them ever so precisely, awoken the sleeping dragon of apathy that kept a choke hold on anything remotely alive. The dragon his parents released upon him as a child, that kept him in check to remind him that killing needed no emotions and that surviving was more important than friends. And now, she’d have to deal with the aftermath of what she’d done, not just by the hand of Gaius, but Absinthe, and in extension all of Gemini. Absinthe had made some commentary trying to prove the male wrong in his accusations; he ignored it, perhaps beyond a small rumble from himself. ’Shut up, girl’. Then, the words of denial came suddenly from the scarred, traitorous woman; she gained nothing from death. The man huffed, mockingly, as he tossed her response aside like worn shoes; useless. Red eyes met red as Gaius refused to release his hold on her gaze, even when she turned away. She could look away knowing he was absorbing her everything before he no longer was able to.

Then came the jealous pleas, the retort of trying to paint her sister in colour uglier than Derringer’s true shades; better to pull another down rather than fight to the top. “I’m not buying it.” He retorted, another one thrown side. Take another shot. “Try again.” He nearly hissed, a toxic rumble from his throat that he knew Derringer would recognize, those same controlling, demanding words she once threw at him. “Power wasn’t your problem, it was fear.” If Derringer was any level candidate for handling power, for taking control; she wouldn’t have run. She would not have left, she would have stayed and endured. She would’ve had her slice of power, her part of the controls of Gemini with Falcon and Gaius at her side even with Serrate still there: but instead, she was greedy and fearful. It was no wonder that was the only form of power she could muster, she consumed it like candy. “You feared killing your sister, you feared Saboro finding you, you feared your sister being more than you— Were you afraid of love, too, Derringer?” Afraid that love would conquer her fear, that love would give you a shield far more powerful than any royal invisibility? Not that Gaius would know either; but he'd make the bluff. Shifting his weight he pressed a foot forward, daringly, as he almost didn’t even realize he was moving at this point.

Click, shift, crank. Like fitting back into a mechanical function just as memory served. What more was he at this point than what he was bred to be?

He stopped, one paw forward, when Absinthe’s words filled the space between them. She rattles on about her history, fragments of news to him as he continued to watch his target like a sniper taking aim during the whole conversation. At the end of it all, none of it seemed to matter anymore. Gaius humoured her long enough, and he slowly came to the realization that nothing she said would be satisfying. No more words would bring him relief, but he was never a beast of battles in tongue; he would rather get reward from teeth. Wasn’t she the same? She taught him as much, and out here there was no bets, no promises, no loyalty. She’d ripped up that treaty the moment she turned tail and left him in the dust. Derringer suddenly had the audacity to question anything at all; oh, how she showed a lick of interest in the home she abandoned. Gaius didn’t need to be told to keep his mouth shut; as far as he was concerned, he was already done talking.

“Absinthe, didn’t you have a problem to take care of?” Moving, thundering rumble charged from his throat as he tilted his head ever so slightly, molten eyes viciously contained on Derringer, forever more as he pledged his last ounce of loyalty to his ex-partner in making sure he wouldn’t look away even when her throat was being ripped out. Gaius moved again, cranking his second leg forward in an inching, stalking manner as his framework approached. His head was high, his tail was raised and he would spit in the face of fear and scream in the ear of loyalty. Would Derringer be surprised? Perhaps not, but he did wonder briefly just how long it would take before he saw a blur of cream and black lunge beyond his stance and right for the guilty party before them.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

She’s tipped off by the warning in Absinthe’s words, eyes narrowing as she considers her options. Derringer is a proud woman, one who has so rarely considered the possibility of failure – and yet as she looks between the expressions of righteous anger, she recognizes the same look in their eyes that she’d seen in Saboro. They were greedy to cast blame, willing to skew logic to justify the ending they wanted. Bloodshed, it was always bloodshed – and hadn’t Serrate (or Akira, supposedly) chosen right, picking the two wolves that were most likely to ignore morals and truth in favor of a deadly ending?

She could call for Falcon – make it two against two, even out the odds a bit – but she and her adopted child were both travel-weary and worn thin in a way that Gaius and Absinthe were not. Sure, they had likely roamed quite a distance, but there was still a sheen of health to their coats that her own lacked, a layer of fat over muscle and bone that she had lost long ago. Falcon fared better simply because of their young age, but that wouldn’t do much for her advantage. She could run, of course – Derringer recognizes that as her best option, her mind is already trying to plan out an escape that benefits her and spares her life, but she also knows that her bad leg, troubling her more because of the long, hard miles, will render her slower than the other two.

Essentially, Derringer is trapped, and she knows it. She feels the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her heart thundering, acid boiling in her stomach. She will not beg – she is, always has been, too proud for that, and though her survival instincts have always taken over she cannot fathom how begging would do anything but provide them a sense of sick satisfaction.

”Of course I feared killing Serrate, you absolute imbecile,” she snarls at Gaius, eyes hot, barely taking a breath before she continues. If nothing else, she will say her piece. ”That’s my point, but the two of you are so set on charging me for a crime I didn’t commit, that you’re ignoring every shred of logic just so you can try to justify this bullshit.” Her gaze turns to Absinthe now, shaking her head and then, unintentionally, letting loose a bark of laughter that turns into a sneer as she stares her daughter down.

”If you’re so angry about being rescued, why don’t you go back to Saboro, you pathetic little urchin.” Unbidden, she recalls her words to Coven on the evening of their meeting, and it only fuels her rage – that their plans for obedient little soldiers would come to this, a child so angry that she would falsely accuse Derringer of murder just to exact revenge. ”Though if your incompetent, so-called King is cheerfully ordering my death because I left – and for no other reason, because I didn’t fucking kill Tauro, -- then it sounds like anybody from Saboro would be right at home in Gemini.”

Is this what Serrate wanted? Did her sister know that her daughter had ordered Derringer’s death, was she glad for it, was there something in the Poppy Queen that Derringer had failed to recognize before – some part of her seeking vengeance for all the torture and the fear? Serrate, who had taunted Derringer and called her out for wanting to prevent others from just waltzing out of the territory – would she have her sister killed for the exact same thing, under the guise of an assassination?

”I hope whoever did order those two to kill your little boy-King sends more. I hope they send all of Saboro crashing onto your heads, I hope everyone of Serrate’s little pathetic worms dies while she watches!” She wouldn’t survive this, unless by some fluke – and maybe by defying expectations. Derringer flies forward, then, jaws agape in a thundering snarl, aiming to grab ahold of her smaller daughter by any means and crunch down, feel blood and flesh, and maybe gain the upper wolfhand by virtue of… well, pure recklessness, really.

[Absinthe]

It is a blessing that Gaius is on her side, that his words calm suspicions in Absinthe of mutiny, even though he is the captain of this ship. He points the finger of his aging gauntlets at the Villain, at the evil doer, and it is his words that condemns the red-eyed matriarch. Never mind the bit of love, Absinthe finds the knowledge of Serrate's shaky fate by the claws of her sister enough to know that this was the right choice.

He coolly reminds her of why they are there- or why she is there. One claw rakes forth the dirt and uproots the grass. Despite not wanting to look, she's watched her mother's ragged form the moment it emerged. She takes note of any and all visible weaknesses, she can taste the tainted blood already.

"You do not speak to him," a daughter commands, head raised with teeth bared, snapping and clicking. "You're making your case to me, and me only. I told you before, but I suppose you didn't listen, or you didn't take me seriously.. What a fucking mistake," she snorts and tips her head down, "Letting me live was a mistake, but you know that, don't you?"

But then Derringer digs a knife in, one she'd left out and exposed for all the world to see. "You didn't rescue me, you fucking moron," and neither did Serrate or Echo, or Gaius, for that matter. "I only need one reason to strike you down, for all the pain and suffering you've caused. Whether you ordered his death, or your sister's, is no longer under investigation," because, as much as it pained Absinthe, she believed Derringer. Ah.. it wouldn't matter, though. She needed an answer for 'but why', and a face to fit 'but who?'

And who better to wear the mask, hm?

"My decision has nothing to do with our King," because Akira couldn't possibly assume Absinthe was so self-righteous and greedy, could she? Akira had never known who Derringer really was before their meeting, so how could the girl king know anything about her cousin? "You're guilty, Derringer. I'll work out the technicalities of what later, but.."

Absinthe rolls her shoulders, noticing now her mother's rant ended with a hint of rage, and of course.. of course.. there is movement, there is a bullrush, and she is ready. She has been ready her whole, miserable life for this moment.

She thinks not of anyone else wronged by the Devil, only of herself, and rushes forward to meet teeth with flesh. Derringer wins round one, gripping the nape of her daughter that slipped to the side in suave fashion, but not in time. She wins round one, but her legs are exposed to Absinthe's snapping and latching jaws, hoping to land a hold on a supporting pillar and dig-dig-dig her own teeth into the flesh and muscle and bone.

If, and only if, she gets a hold- all the while Derringer having the literal upper hand- Absinthe would rush forward in hopes of knocking the giant off balance. She does not hope for help, she does not expect Gaius to aid her in any way, but she knows she is no match, even for the woman so malnourished. She knows, like she knew before back in the forest, she would never accomplish anything wonderful, she was always- and forever will be- mediocre at best.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

There’s something triumphant about this, something that produces a feeling of elation in her chest as she clamps down, crunching through skin and fat and finding muscle for purchase. It was a greedy feeling, managing her first strike so well, and Derringer moved to take advantage of it, gripping her daughter with all her might and throwing her weight against Absinthe and away from Gaius, intending to push her daughter off her paws and to put more distance between their fight and the spectator – what she didn’t account for was Absinthe finding the closest thing within reach and clamping down onto Derringer’s leg.

They will likely both go sprawling because of this, with the vulnerability of having her leg in Absinthe’s jaws registering as panic with Derringer. She releases her daughter’s nape, allowing her to escape if she tries in order to save her own leg and scramble back to her own paws. If Absinthe maintains her hold on Derr’s leg, Derr will instantly go for her daughter’s eyes, snapping fiercely and looking to puncture and blind, hoping to drive her daughter away from her own limb.

If Absinthe still doesn’t relent after several successive bites, Derringer realizes then the obvious target, and with her daughter’s head turned just so (in order to maintain her grip on Derr’s leg) she will aim to wrap her jaws around the top of her daughter’s muzzle, to crunch down and break the more fragile nasal bones and force her to release.

[Absinthe]

It is painful, but she recalls a mantra from the jungle to soothe her body's panic, it's need to flight instead of fight. Absinthe's mind repeats: this will end, this will end, this will end, this will- and before she can finish, before the fourth round is done, Derringer lets go. This will end. It always ends, and as they both go down- her teeth clenched on the leg as if it were support through the traumatizing event- she feels the ground, she feels the dirt beneath her out from under her paws and...

Teeth.

Raking acrossing her face, and with closed eyes she begins to back up and up and UP AND UP, all the while she tries to keep the hold- THIS WILL END, screams in her head, THIS WILL END. She keeps her eyes closed, tight, she is shaking her head to avoid as much damage as possible, but the future is certain of the scars she will maintain, the vision she will someday lose entirely from trauma.

But she realizes, her mother's neck is so much longer then her own, she realizes she has made a mistake, and while pulling away and tugging, she sees- pun oh-so-intended- what to do to avoid further damage to herself, to avoid those crunching and raking teeth anymore. She rushes to the side.

Because you can't always go back, that will only cause you more harm, and going forward? Going forward is so hard, but that doesn't mean you can't make your own path, and her own path she tries to find. Whichever leg she holds, she runs the opposite direction- and the back of her ear and below it took a hit.

Where Derringer aimed to crush Absinthe's muzzle, her head is turned just so now that the matriarch's jaws have taken an ear within them, pressed against her skull, and she expects the worse. She expects to suffer more loss beyond the Demon herself, she expects the ear to be ripped to shreds, and some flesh surrounding it, and she is not angry. Sacrifice is necessary, but it fucking HURTS.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

Her leg is screaming; the longer she lets Absinthe maintain a hold, the further those incisors cut, past flesh and into fat, and quickly through that painfully thin layer and into muscle, though the biting force is disrupted as Absinthe shakes her, Derr’s leg almost comically being flung side-to-side, pulling against tendons and muscles in her shoulder, and Derringer is fighting back viciously, trying to pin down the moving target, but before she can adjust her goals and plan something else her daughter yanks.

Derringer is still on the ground, planted in one place because she knows that trying to stand up with a limb firmly within Absinthe’s jaws is futile, but the abrupt movement in a very wrong direction pulls her shoulder out of place, a distinct popping sound seeming to echo in the former matriarch’s eardrums. It brings her back to another time, another place, another relative, another leg – she howls, a mangled, twisted sound of rage and pain, trying to rip her leg away and finding that the dislocated limb no longer wants to cooperate, that movement sends something white-hot and nauseating from her shoulder to her spine and down, and she reacts with a wrath so potent that it could only be second to her sister’s own cursed fury.

The red woman doesn’t stop at the ear or the cheek, she goes for the throat, the only thought that can make it past the pain is die, DIE, DIE and she is reduced to a wild animal fighting against a trap, entirely outraged that she could be felled so easily, as if her daughter were ever better, as if anybody was, refusing to believe that just because she is down she is also out. These bites are not quick snaps meant to tear skin, they are wide-jawed, bone-crushing, life-stealing, going for the jugular and unafraid of any repercussions.

She is still alive, whatever has happened to her leg will not kill her – there is a desperate, foolish, desperately angry idea in her head that she can somehow win this.

[Absinthe]

Absinthe lets go of the leg, she lets it tear away from her jaws with a loud guffaw of laughter. If she could do anything to her mother, at the very least, she could maim the bitch. She feels the laughter bubbling up louder like lava bursting from the volcano that granted her so-called freedom. She feels the hot heat rising, saliva pouring from her lips while Derringer's teeth dig lower, deeper, for a better grasp on her daughter's mortality.

She evades her mother's death grip, she rolls away with hysterical laughter following, but she is not free from the snapping jaws of a tyrant. She was never free to begin with, not from her bloodline, especially not from Derringer.

It is only a matter of time before Derringer's teeth find themselves along the side of Absinthe's neck, gobbling up excess skin and meat while edging closer to its prize: her throat. The laughter never stops, though, it only prattles on in rasps and high squeals while her paws aim for a meaningless defense. She aims to rake claws across her mother's face, to scar up the ugliest mug she'd ever witnessed, all the while choking her giggles and snorts away.

She aims to hook anything on the matriarch's nose or eye sockets, anything that would get a hold as she found herself accepting of death.

Absinthe, with her head lolled back like a presented dinner, finally sees that Gaius is still there. Through all her maniacal behavior, he remained, and whether he was gawking or scowling or even cared didn't matter. He was still there.. and that is where her panic begins.

It's okay for her to die.

That's fine.

She was never anyone in the first place, but him? Maybe he had a future. Maybe he had something to live for, and she could only think about him being ambushed if Derringer is left alive.

It wouldn't be fair. Him dying for her cause.

"H..heh..ellp," she wheezes, her laughter gone as she begins to squirm and toss and turn and writhe around like maybe.. maybe living mattered.

[Gaius]

The stoic expression, nearly mechanic at this point, didn’t flinch at the sudden uproar in revote of the woman he used to pledge loyalty to. ‘Of course I fear killing Serrate’ she spat, snarled, the inner workings of the brutish male didn’t react. He understood that notion, but he it didn’t mean he would accept it. Hypocritical perhaps, but had he known Derringer truly had a history of fleeing and avoiding her fears like wasps than he was already better off than her. Somewhere deep inside, Gaius had a self interest enough to change, but could Derringer say so for herself? He thought not.

Crimson eyes only darted between to the two as mother threw vicious words at daughter and vice versa; Gaius knew where this was going, there was only one way for it to go. He had nothing more to say, perhaps even nothing more to do. Something within him wanted to same justice and revenge as Absinthe herself, but at the same time he never expected to be in a situation where he could do it. Would he help rip apart the first woman he actually pledged his loyalty to?— he couldn’t even say that about his own mother, or any of his kin. Lifting his lips he bared teeth silently, shifting near Absinthe like a bodyguard. That was all he was, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sent here to kill Derringer. He only wanted to find her, and now that he did—

Stepping aside he let the two duke it out, eyes carefully watching his companion to make sure she wasn’t in hot water fast. His heart pounded in his chest as if he were involved in the fight himself, hackles rising and teeth baring still, ears back, the ever so familiar feeling of fangs on flesh and the hot sticky dripping of blood from an open wound. He lived it for days, months, and for once he was witnessing a battle that wasn’t his. It was strange, he’d never spectated before. It was difficult, to stand by and watch, to listen, to smell— he circled the two like a vulture, implying an easiness of whether or not it would turn into an unfair fight. Little did he know it was already an unfair fight. He judged their movements, their fight styles, watching for any dangerous position Absinthe would be put in—

Absinthe’s laughter was all so familiar, that same mockery he witnessed the first time he’d met her. It made his temper rise, recalling her foolish antics, but in this case it was in the face of her own mother. It continued as they made eye contact, blood splattered across her face as her bright green eyes met his molten ones; there had been some kind of connection there. Gaius was never good at words, but he was good at body language, and there was a sense of plea there. Guilt? Regret? He couldn’t read it faster than the muffled words from her mouth and the subsiding of her cackling. It had been enough of a trigger— he didn’t hesitate anymore, if he were the robot in wolf’s clothing like he felt like most days the hissing sound of gears shift and pistons wheezing, gears clanking and thumping—

His body slammed into Derringer full force, teeth moving to wrap around her scruff and primarily knock her away and off of Absinthe’s throat. He knew one of her legs was useless, but Gaius had no intentions of finishing the job himself— he wasn’t here for that, it wasn’t his duty but he would be damned if he would sit there and watch the losing side win, furthermore watch one he considered more of his own than the Dark Queen he once felt for. If his sheer brutish ramming didn’t work, he’d aim for her throat himself and attempt to clamp on, even jerk her backwards from Absinthe and likely start to close her airways just from moving in the opposite direction Derringer’s head and neck wanted to go.

Gaius’ first mistake, if successful, was not to prepare for any other attack from Derringer once he freed Absinthe.

He wasn’t very good at fighting without killing, and he set in his mind to not be the one to do it.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

Angry and foolish and prideful – she’s barely more than skin and bones and fur, her last meal easily several days prior, rest hard to come by and all too brief, but she looks at these two well-fed pack creatures and thinks, somehow, she can win, because she has never entertained the possibility of her own failure, never considered that she might not achieve what she set out to do. Her decision to leave was never motivated by a conscious fear (never mind that which lurks beneath the surface) but a genuine belief that she would kill her sister to maintain control.

Perhaps she even comes close. Fangs bite through fur, through skin, scissoring through fat and into muscle, ignoring the claws raking at her face, eyes closed because she doesn’t need to see to do this, feeling them scrape against her nose and wrinkling her snout unbidden against the sharp pain, ignoring them at the corners of her eyes, not even paying any mind to the begging, she’s isolated herself and her daughter, forgotten about Absinthe’s shadow, the silent guardian that was once her’s --

Two-hundred-plus pounds of denial slam into her and she goes sprawling, her grip broken (though it’s unlikely that Absinthe would escape major damage from her mother being ripped away so forcefully); Derringer practically roars, infuriated that death was snatched away from her so easily, turning on Gaius with the intent to replace her daughter’s mortality with that of the could-have-been man. His teeth are digging into her scruff but she cares not for superficial wounds, twisting herself violently away and snapping up at him, going for the eyes first, thinking to blind, disable – she can win (even with just three legs, Derringer?) if she can incapacitate, and they have underestimated her violence, she has always been underestimated, harkening back to her mother’s mistaken choice of an heir.

[Absinthe]

There is unimaginable pain ripping through her throat, along her neck, along her skin and beneath it. Absinthe's eyes are wide, although one is useless, she still hopes to see through both. Only one, though, can pierce the veil of red and see Gaius tearing the monster from her. Only one can see the wound the beast leaves along her already scarred throat. She hoped it would have finished the job, she hoped she could bleed out, but Derringer's teeth missed the bullseye.

The pale masked girl wheezes, kicking and squirming until she feels the earth beneath her- not above, not to the side, but beneath her where it belonged. She staggers, she wobbles and groans, but her one good eye finds the squabble that continued. The one good eye sees her savior facing a harpy, sees the claws digging into his face, and her heart leaps.

And so does she. Her legs are shaky, but she rushes forward, she revels in the searing pain along her neck and throat, all along her legs and face- she takes it all in and releases it all in one violent, blubbering howl.

Absinthe takes the opportunity presented to return the very damage she received just moments ago, but she hoped her jaws strong enough to suffocate, after all she'd been through. She hoped herself strong enough to keep them shut, if they landed their mark, and to ignore any of the noises that may come. She feels herself shaking, but she wants nothing more than for all of this to end. Her body is so tired.

All she can think about is the rest they'll get after this. Be it that she lay dead or recovering, she imagines her mother's grating voice will no longer haunt her, that her dreams will disperse and she will be as normal as any of the other wolves who reside in their perfect haven.

All she knows, as she shakes her head and grinds her teeth, is that she really, really, really wants to go home.

[Gaius]

He could just barely catch the wobbling, wounded and battered sight of Absinthe behind him, hopefully taking these precious moments to catch her breath and get back on her feet. This was her fight, this was her goal, her justice. While Gaius felt a shred of satisfaction deep down in those warrior roots of his for yanking his ex-Queen off his feisty traveling companion, he wouldn’t progress further unless it turned into his own fight or flight scenario. He was able to see her collecting herself once more, he could only assume thankful for his grace in peeling the enraged mother from her death grip. However, his concerns were cut short as the rigid roar of the ire royal bellowed it’s way to him and attention shifted back, watching her aim right for his face just as she did for Absinthe.

He could’ve moved, he could’ve snapped back, he could’ve done a lot of things— instead, he allowed her the satisfaction of her hit. Gaius’ battle tactics were never anything purposeful and meticulous, for the chomping flurry of attacks in near-end fury in Derringer’s fighting style now was what Gaius knew best. It was reckless, it was an opening— but it was effective, both to him and for them. If him taking a punch and keeping their target distracted for even a second, he hoped, he prayed, Absinthe with be able to jump back into the ring to trap this bull of a woman in her final move.

With eyes closed he attempted to lessen the damage done to his vision, with his head slightly turned the majority of the damage resulted in a messy, deep streak across his left eye and face— the feeling of teeth scraping against his cartilage and skull was a disgusting mix of reminiscence and tragedy. Baring his teeth now as his throat rumbled a pained groan-like retort, Gaius shifted his head away now and attempted to force himself at her unsteady, hypothetically three-legged frame to give her a good shove off enough to allow himself to retreat in the slightest to regain his focus, and more important, regain his sight.

Like clockwork, in a perfectly unplanned execution of their teamwork, the glory howl of Absinthe meant she was coming back and coming hard and, at this point, all Gaius could ask and hope from her. With a hissing wince as the pain started to increase, the air skimming exposed, red flesh and the warm, oozing blood down his face—he daringly peeled open his eyes to see Absinthe going for the throat, the kill, the finish. Despite the sting, the blur and the exhaustion starting to kick in, Gaius shifted his position to the rear, hoping to intercept an cowardly attempts to escape knowing this could be the end.

He wanted to go home, too.

[Absinthe]

DERRINGER

She isn’t satisfied by the superficial wounds inflicted upon her former paramour, and when Gaius turns his head away from her she lunges instead for the stretch of fur bared there, trying to latch onto the side of his throat and compress his airway, or perhaps chew her way through to really make him bleed – she wants them both dead so that she can laugh at this pathetic attempt to conquer her, mock their twisted sense of judgment, so she and Falcon can feast on their corpses and then prepare to retaliate.

The vision of her victory, and the subsequent fantasy of revenge that lurks in her conscious, drives the woman past pain and starvation toward her goal; if she doesn’t get purchase on his neck the first time (perhaps she mangles an ear instead, or his shoulder) she will go again, and again, punishing him for daring to get within range of her snapping jaws. The shove is unexpected – they are attacking her but he’s retreating when she’s still on the ground, unable to escape? – but before she can process and attempt to regain her legs for the first time since Absinthe pulled the one out from under her, Derringer registers the howl.

She twists around as best she can on the ground, snarl wrinkling her lips, and is met by karmic justice in the form of dark jaws wrapping themselves around her throat. She jerks back reflexively and begins thrashing, and if Absinthe is not resolute in her determination to maintain her grip on Derr’s throat it’s quite likely that she’ll lose it – but her daughter is prepared for an enormous fight and there is no escape for the red woman.

Derringer struggles, three legs and a useless fourth trying to find purchase in the dirt to no avail, twisting against the grip of her daughter, snapping at air. She feels Gaius at her back and only then do the first traces of panic set in; the sounds she makes morph from vicious snarls to something far more primal, near-screams of infuriated terror and pain. Adrenaline and fury can only fuel her for so long before lack of oxygen begin to counteract them; her thrashing grows weaker, eyes wide and rolling in her head, the whites shot through with ruptured vessels of blood.

It is hardly dignified. They do not allow her to go quietly, but instead every last ounce of life is violently squeezed out of her – quite literally – and she fights it every step of the way, unable to accept her fate, refusing to consider that she has been defeated. The first cough interrupts her vicious howling, followed in rapid succession by many more; her body seizes as she desperately fights for air, tries to kick her daughter away or pull back herself, tongue lolling from her gapping muzzle, froth gathering at her lips and gums going pale.

There is no breath left for screaming; instead what wheezes from her throat is laughter. It’s weak and faint but she spits it out nonetheless, defying her mortality, refusing to be cowed by the idea that it had all come to an end. Was this it, then? Did they think there was something grand in taking her down, a travel-weary wanderer, underfed and footsore and tired? She laughed because it didn’t matter, none of it, because she hoped that Saboro would find them all the next day, because she had no purpose anyway, because she had fooled herself into believing she had left for any other reason but selfishness. If Gemini couldn’t be her’s entirely, then she wanted none of it.

Her vision is going grey but she manages to roll her eyes toward what could be some part of Absinthe’s body, hissing vindictively. ”I hope you burn.” Pure spite enables the words, but when she tries to draw breath to spit she finds an empty rattle in her chest, a paralyzing sensation that induces the last adrenaline-fueled vestiges of panic, enough to cause her to want to start thrashing again – but when she tries to throw herself away, to snap once more at empty air, she finds her body is numb and unresponsive, a static fuzz spreading through her fur.

A unique sense of curiosity, a naïve sensation unlike any she could remember feeling, blooms within her thoughts. It was like a child’s wonder. She tries to flick an ear, to lift even one of her good legs, and finds she cannot. How odd.

She is aware of the jaws of death around her throat, though; they are the only thing she can register, feeling more like an extension of her own self than an independent executioner now. And really, was that far from the truth at all? Absinthe was more like her mother than Derringer had ever realized – had Derringer done that, through trying to unlock the secret of her sister’s mysterious strength? Had she instead unlocked some mimicry of herself, vengeful daughter burning with the hatred of a cruel mother – perhaps Absinthe could see it, how she was nothing but the same old sad tale reprised, with an alternate ending this time, unbroken circle destroyed, haunting specter vanquished.

This was never how it was supposed to end. She knows that much. Even as her vision fades and her body turns to lead, she can clearly see herself on the top of a cliff, or was it in the midst of a forest, or on a solitary island full of questions and mysteries and death – in every scene she is opposite her sister. Theirs would have been a final battle of biblical proportions; Cain and Abel, rather than Castor and Pollux, but Derringer was denied the right to write the last words of her sister’s story. Once more, this vicious woman found control stolen from her, this time by daughter rather than mother, her reckless impulsivity leading to her unmistakable end, her desire to crush and control and take leading to her own demise.

And so it is; Derringer’s eyes closed, and so did her chapter in their collective stories. The lunar queen, the vengeful sister, the entitled daughter – however you describe her, Icarus fell for the last time, crashing into blackness, sinking away from them all, leaving the sun to her rightful place in the sky.

The End.