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03-18-2015, 12:08 AM
Hotaru
and Alice
The winds of change were shifting, stirring, drawing the mother from her home, her cavern, her abode. What it was that drew her was indescribable, pulling on her soul as strongly as when the magic of Helovia would draw and reel her into its clutches, placing her in the perfect place at the perfect time to compete with others for the chance at royalty, at power. She keeps her eyes on the horizon line most mornings, watching the sun bleed its color like a dying array of roses across a canvas of darkness and decay. Even as it is reborn, it chases the death of the Goddess across the sky, pursuing her shortly houred reign. Hotaru turned her tiara away from the sight, the odd catch and pull and ache in her chest still too raw, too open, a raw nerve touched and prodded too many times. It was still too new for her to consider examining it. Hours slip away in the hot buzz of cicadas and dancing shafts and sunbeams through the overhead canopy. She trails listlessly, a weird itch and crawl beneath her skin, an ancient survival instinct that claws its way furiously to the forefront of her mind. Alice whined uncomfortably with every alternating hour, the smoke of her presence the only comfort Hotaru allowed herself. The nights were spent watching the sickly acid glow of her beloved's scratch-marked eye, shut in slumber though it was, the lines finally allowed to reconnect in the pattern they were meant for. It was her solace, the balm to the weird prickly feeling that would not allow her sincere rest. Next morn only nettled her more, feeling as if she was hot and burning in a way the sun could never manage to bring to fruition. She clamped the bit of frustration betwixt her teeth and ground upon it, angered by her inability to discern exactly what was digging so effectively beneath her skin. Loose, easy walk became a prowl, ears permanently half-flattened. Alice kept flashing images of snow and tundra into her head, quiet whines permeating the thick, humid air. Even without words, Hotaru understood what she was intending to say. If Hotaru was so disturbed, why could they not merely turn to the north and head home with the auroras to guide them? Except Hotaru didn't back down. She was a demon in her own right, a thing to be feared, a quick-witted thief with hands faster than a hummingbird's wings and a mind as deadly as a newly sharpened blade. It drove a wedge against her sanity, frustrated to the point of screaming into the air, raging against the silent force that had her so on edge. Hotaru would not simply run. She wouldn't leave until she'd sought out and ended what it was that caused her such distress. Only when the deed was done, the sting of wrongness washed from beneath her skin, would the she-wolf feel right enough with the world to return to her family in the northern reaches. A growl like thunder permeated the air, the catalyst. One Hotaru knew instinctively, one her mother had always warned her about. But the rose impersonator was no foal any longer, and though the nape of her neck was prickled and hot, instead of turning to flee she kicked her heels and thrust herself onward. The mother inside her dictated the death of this creature, this facsimile, this predator too far from its rightful territory. A cougar was a threat to foals of the wilds just as much those of a herdland. Whether she knew them or not, Hotaru would spare them, for it easily could have been Arya on one of her crazy adventures outside the borders who fell victim to its wicked claws. The earth shattered around her. A scream pierced like a bullet into her ears, forcing the fae to stumble and stagger, disoriented. Fear and adrenaline ramped up the speed of her racing heart, fury a sudden spike like whiskey-laced punch to the spirit of her courage. It was too young, too small, too shrill. Dead, crumpled leaves, dehydrated from the lack of water and overabundance of sun crinkled and dissolved beneath her hooves as she raced towards the sound, the horrible shrieking wail of a child facing death in the face with no way to fight. For a moment, rounding the corner of the bend and letting her eyes fall upon the trio locked in combat, she nearly stopped. The skull-face was too prominent, memories of broken-eyed fillies and vengeful mothers imprinted upon her mind. The World-Eater had been Hotaru's personal project for years, their feud nearly as deep and as intimate as the one between the harlot and Arah. But even as she faltered, Arya's words rebounded in her head. She's a mere babe! And Hotaru recalled her hatred, her fury, at having Phaedra's name stuck upon her hide like a disease. Was this Fate's hand? To present her with a child that could have been her a handful of years ago, and have to choose between life and death for her? For it was clear that the little black would never walk out of the encounter alive, starved though the beast was. Everything slotted into place, decisive, no turning back, no regrets. A war scream tore her throat as she charged, blood on black swimming in her eyes until her own vision turned red, red, red with vengeance. Magic she hadn't known existed sprang from her in orbs of gossamer color, whites and blues, summoned alongside her battle cry. They exploded with a bang and a sizzle, the cougar shrieking as her claws retracted from the babe's youthful hide. shock and singed flesh incentive to abandon her meal. Hotaru gave her no opportunity for escape. No mercy. No remorse. She was the reaper, scythe in hand, and with eyes as black and cold as death - with no atonement, no salvation or retribution - she swung it down upon the beast with a decisive motion. She was the judge of this pitiful creature's life, and it would end on her watch. Sharp horn stabbed into the writhing creature's chest, sinking to the base. Claws reached for her neck as the foul thing screamed its last breath into existence, raking down the sides of her arched neck in one last act of retribution. Hotaru merely screamed right back at it, ripping her horn free and rearing up, watching its hazel eyes glint fearfully, wildly, in the sunlight. Its arms opened as if to embrace her, the pair locked in frozen time, beautiful and furious in their own right. Hotaru descended, her hooves finding the soft jugular of the beast, listening to the satisfying crack and gurgle as its life ended beneath her weight. Blood dripped sluggishly from her neck, the wounds thick and gruesome, staining her skin in the same color that she'd seen on the child's hide. Panting and huffing, wild-eyed and tensed with the adrenaline of the fight, she turned to the child. A goddess, a warrior with her blood-stained Gladius held loose and ready at her side, a Queen with one heel perched upon the body of the one who had dared to challenge her title. They never got the chance to walk away. Alice came to her side, never fearing the darkness that Hotaru harbored inside herself, as aware of its existence as she was the blood rushing through her own canine form. There was nothing the other could ever do to scare her, and Hotaru returned the sentiment with ease and ferocity in equal measures. Ignoring the fierce throbbing of her neck and the weird magic she'd just experienced, Hotaru made her way towards the child, blood dripping into her eyes uncomfortably from her bloodied horn. She prayed it would not frighten away the little one, regardless of the fact that Hotaru had just saved her. "You're safe, child," she spoke softly, not wanting to spook the poor thing after the travesty that had nearly occurred to her. "My name is Hotaru. I'm Arya's mother." Her daughter had confessed her feelings after the herd meeting, after the spectacular outburst she'd had. "Is your name Nymeria? Are you hurt?" Likely one of the questions that should have sprung first to her tongue, but easing the child was of more importance in some ways if she didn't want the little dame to go running off in fear and injure herself all the more. Or draw predators closer with the smell of her blood. @[Nymeria] |
![[Image: 515265280ffff]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/515265280ffff)
Plot with me here!
