The child is far too strange for the bird's liking. Even upon her back -- where her hardened stare cannot reach him -- she can feel his body twisting, changing, morphing into something that it should not be. There really is no explanation for it, either; the Aztec had not known what the behemoth had been carrying in its pouch, just as she had not known what to expect when the babe rebuilt its own shell.

How is that possible? I saw you lying on that shore. I saw you die! Her exclamations are not as silent as she thinks, and the child -- who has taken up the form of a young hyena cub -- buries his face into his mother's pretty feathers. The peahen might not have come to realize that she now shares a bond with the trembling rougarou, but he is certainly aware of it. Unfortunately for the newborn, however, he has not yet begun to experiment with this bond, and is unable to plead with his mother for silence. His mind is left vulnerable to the vehement woman's attacks, and so he seeks comfort in watching her swaying wings. Unshifting brown eyes gaze at the beautiful things as he is berated for his own survival. She may not feel the same way towards him, but ever since his arrival into this world, he has loved her -- and will always love her -- with his dying breath.

Yet even with such a powerful feeling nestled between her wings, the peahen is ignorant of the boy’s true feelings. To her, his devotion is automatic; written into his very code like the genetic makeup of all living things. And so you should feel this, mictla. For without me, you would not have been saved. A stained neck twists itself so that a fiery orb can study her prize. “Do you know what you are, mictla? You are a vessel of death, just as I am one. We are omens, you and I. Miquiztetzahuitl. That is who we are.” The maiden turns to look back ahead, her jaw set and head held high as she delivers her charge with his first lesson. “I am cualneci-oquichtin. You are mictla. That is Nahuatl for ‘beautiful warrior’, and for ‘place of death’.” Her words are not as stern as they should be, and the Chieftess surprises herself with how freely she presents the abomination with information. Regardless of her uneasiness in knowing this, she parts her lips to carry on, having caught sight of something else that he must learn. “That is tletl, or fire. Do not touch that, for it-“ hurts. Her words trail off at the sight of the blazing tendrils, and her mouth sets itself in a frown. What is fire doing here?

Broad instruments move in swift, determined strokes as the bird flies closer to the flames. She reaches into the recesses of her cranium for an explanation, but her eyes find the source of the danger before her mind has a chance to explain. The hybrid’s stare heats up just as the air does, and a scream rips free from her vocal cords as she darts towards the emblazed figurine. “AURELIA!”

Her sudden shout stuns the hyena, and in response to his bonded’s panic he urges his bones to mold into something new. Spotted fur sheds itself until there is only naked flesh, but even that is quickly and smoothly replaced by a fresh layer of down. A tiny muzzle stretches out into a hardened beak, and brown eyes sink backwards until they are no longer set at the front of his face. Useless wings erupt from chubby sides while unwanted legs fold into the body. Near the end of this transformation, the rougarou chirrups in response to the beauty’s next chorus (which sounds something like, “HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE AROUND HERE”). He isn’t sure why the pretty lady suddenly yearns for the blazing mare’s blood, but he also doesn’t know much about his ferocious steed. What he knows for certain, though, is that the porcelain bird has felt his mother’s wrath before. Why this is so important to the rainbow right now is unknown to him.

The speeding vixen seems not to care about whether he understands her or not, just as she cares not for any of the others who have gathered here. They are merely side shows to what is about to be the main attraction. A wicked smile replaces the frown that dances on her parted maw. Let the meteor react to the rainbow as she sees fit.


words. "more words."

alan l @ flickr | subtlepatterns.com | larfsalot @ deviantart