Larksong Grotto you will only hear these elegant crimes
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BACKDATED HELLA
April 25th
Come on, @Lily! The boy called breathlessly behind him as he ran; he had led his friend out of the territory with every intention of having fun today. That was something they didn't do often enough, he thought. So, he took her past the territories of stone and ice. The paths were winding and treacherous, but he was determined to reach the destination he had set for them.
Alarian had never actually been there before— he had only glimpsed the grotto, climbing over icy peaks on his way home from the coast. He glanced back at Lily, slowing as they came to the first of several sets of steps; the structure was stair-like, but being a wolf, Ali wouldn't know that.
Careful. The Governor murmured to her, putting one paw forward to delicately test the stability. After a few beats, he deemed it safe, and started to work his way down. He looked back at Lily every so often, to make sure she was doing okay, but otherwise his gaze remained fixed on the body of water at the center of the territory.
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It was a lovely day. Alarian seemed to be in good spirits again, especially as he led her out of the territory with a sparkle in his eyes. The two of them streaked across the open plains, his long legs outpacing her, per usual, though Lily started to make headway as they reached their destination. A copse of trees, dark, leading down into. . .what?

Lily eyed the steps dubiously, thinking that tumbling and falling to her death wasn't exactly the type of fun she had envisioned. Still, she picked her way nimbly down, trying not to focus on the fact that one wrong step could mean certain doom. A couple of times she slipped, and her heart caught in her throat, but she regained her footing, edging more slowly down the slope.

"What is this place, Ali?" she asked, catching sight of the pool of water at the bottom. Songbirds chirped merrily in the trees, and there was a distinct feeling of peace settling upon her as they descended further into the sun-dappled darkness. It would have been perfect, if not for the treacherous path inward.
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He didn't answer until they had descended fully, too focused on the task at hand. It was a little tricky, but they were both agile wolves— and luckily, the path down was definitely more treacherous than climbing back up. When they reached the bottom, he paused, sucking in a breath.
It was beautiful here.
I don't know, really, Alarian admitted quietly, glancing back at her with sparkling eyes. But I've seen it a few times— passing through the area. The Governor didn't mention that he had been looking for Lennon, then. He only gestured for Lily to follow him further, eyes gleaming pale gold from the darkness dappling his face now.
The silence in the grotto enchanted him; it seemed so still, so perfect. Even the water barely seemed to ripple. He was careful even now— Alarian was not religious by any means, but it almost felt like a sin to disturb the peaceful scene too much.
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Lily let out a ragged sigh of relief as her paws touched the bottom, after what seemed like ages of nerve-wracking descent. Ali's voice floated back to her, soft and gentle, but she only had ears for the songs of birds, numerous in the trees, all different and yet blending together in one sweet symphony. The shade made it much cooler here than on the plains, and it felt nice on her pelt, heated with exertion.

She sat down near the edge of the pool, looking at her reflection blinking back at her, picture perfect, owing to the stillness of the water. She grinned to see it, grinned further to find it mirrored back, and then looked at Alarian, wagging her tail. She, too, felt the solemnity of the place deserved no louder than whispers.

"It's beautiful here," Lily breathed, eyes glowing like the embers of a dying fire. She huffed a quiet burst of laughter. "It's a shame the journey down was so treacherous. Else I'd be here all the time." She looked back down at the water, staring at her face.

Her face. Freddie's face. Her father's face. And, as if conjured, heard their warm, kind voices in her ear, found their scents suddenly wrapped round her like an embrace.

"There is magic in this place," she said, suddenly choked, despite not believing in magic whatsoever.
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He followed her to the edge of the water, peering with wide eyes at their reflections. Alarian didn't make a habit of looking at himself. His heart dropped; had he always been so...? He glanced to Lily's reflection, then, and back up to her. It seemed accurate enough. Alarian looked away from the water, wanting very much to sink into the ground and die.
At first, he only listened to her speak, watching the grotto around them. Only a gentle breeze stirred the picturesque, almost too quiet scene; with it came scents that spoke of life. Hiding, then. He imagined not many disturbed this place.

Alarian turned back to his friend when he heard the emotion in her voice, gaze trailing from her to the water, then back. What do you see? It was gentle, almost a whisper. He could not bring himself to stare too long, to try to emulate whatever experience had moved Lily so deeply. He feared he would only see ghosts.
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She swallowed the lump in her throat, looking up at Alarian. Managed a shaky smile, despite the emotions threatening to weigh her down, down, into the water. "My family," she whispered, and as if a spell was broken, their scents faded, voices ceased. "As if they were here. As if I'd never left them."

But she had, and no magic pool could change that. Only a moment it had given her, not nearly enough time with them. Perhaps if she'd remained silent, not have given them away, they would have stayed. But they didn't belong here. This was not their home. It was hers, the home she had chosen, rather than the home she'd been born into.

There was magic in this place, a twisted, deep magic. A magic that made you want for things that had ceased to be. No good came from living in the past, and Lily stepped away from the pool, padding softly around the grotto instead.

"I wonder if this place was settled, before," she murmured, though her question was answered faintly, if one took the time to look hard, or breathe deep. The faintest traces of settlement were here--a scent here and there, abandoned dens. She wondered how they had handled the magic; perhaps it had driven them to madness.