mireille very rarely left the secrecy of sapphique but today she had been hunting.
not to eat, but to know.
but what happened was that mireille was caught in a great bleak storm which blackened the tops of the trees and blotted out all light; that she had been caught in the sound, not by fear but by how the lightning seemed to illuminate the sea toward the islands, that her voice was swallowed by it, that she shouted until she was hoarse and every fibre of her trembling with energy.
she did not question it. she thought only of sobo, and how she must tell him of this moment.
for now mireille slept, soaking wet and tucked into the grotto haunted by both caiaphas and her unknown brother scarab.
enigma had welcomed the storm at first.
but it strengthened and churned, darkened the skies into a near oblivion state. an abyss given birth to the sky. the rolling clouds like a leviathan above. she thought of home and the way they would celebrate this sight. that the ocean may beach something in these storms and bring them a great feast.
she wondered if it would happen here.
but first she needed to find a shelter for the worst of it. the grotto the most reasonable place to go, only she was not the first with this thought.
there was a ruddy, bleak looking thing.
wolf. girl. similar in age. also battered by the raging storm beyond it seemed.
got room?
sea eyes and the smell of salt. these things kept mireille calm as she gently came awake. at first she blinked and then shifted. this wolf was a stranger despite being hung with the scent of ankyra.
"t'ere be room." she moved aside.
her breath warmed the space. "i am mireille, of sapphique."
the other seemed hardly older than her, and yet something in her voice suggested the companion had seen other things.
she would not show her enchantment.
the boss of the islands had been rough and tumbled by the bleak islands. a barracuda lying in wait on his shores.
this girl was touched by something else of the sea, a pearl more than a shark.
enigma.
she answered, settling down carefully. even if there was not much she had no interest in a sudden date under the stormy skies.
what is sapphique?
was this girl a boss too?
they all seemed so young here, but it was not unheard of. a shift as boss before chieftain was common.
their fur mingled for a moment. "sapphique is de place i was born. an' where my mot'ers — my mot'er an' my sister lead." it was still odd to think of rosalyn as no longer being tanzanite.
the space slowly suffused with the pair of wolves building a construct of temperate feeling against the cold rain which ravaged the coast.
enigma.
"did you live somewhere? before dis, i mean." her emerald eyes shone with interest.
her mothers.
no. her mother and her sister. a matriarch boded well for the likes of enigma, more inclined to listen to the words of women. men so inclined to be hot headed or too aloof to see beyond their nose.
barracuda had been different, but she had seen enough to know that was not a common male boss.
not here.
not to her knowledge. 상어 지느러미 코브.
a lost mother tongue hanging thickly onto her words.
the place had retained its native name, even after generations had dissolved into a language more reaching of trading and visitors. some of the elders demanded it still. the younger generations who flanked as bosses adapted to the change.
you are away from sapphique?
"yes. but not so far," mireille added with her innate suspicion. "sapphique is de cliffs, just dere." she pointed with her freckled muzzle and looked back at enigma.
her breath drew in at the language the other said.
"t'ose words." her tones grew thoughtful. "i have not heard dem before. my mot'ers taught me t'ree tongues."
maybe she could know this one too. "are you just comin' t'rough? dis place is important, maman says. it is part of why i came down."
she turned her head, as if she might see the cliffs through the grotto and the darkened skies.
she could not see it, but perhaps she could feel it.
three tongues. the matriarch bosses (or perhaps they were chieftain with such a claim) seemed well versed in many a thing. she wondered if they traded in knowledge, more than the physical.
i am not looking to be boss here, if that's what you ask.
her lips turned upward for but a moment, daring and humored. not if your maman and your clan holds it sacred.
she did not ask, but she welcomed a story or elaboration.
mireille relaxed a little, grateful for the verbal confirmation that no harm would befall her family because she trusted a stranger. were they even strangers at this point; their bodies were touching. this of course reminded mireille of the times she had lay cuddled with druid, and the odd feeling that had engendered.
but that had been druid.
this was enigma.
"my maman erzulie ran ano'ter woman out of here." she shivered to remember the fury. "she was pregnant too."
as they passed words and the storm raged onward, enigma relaxed.
the touching of bodies not as jarring as it had once been. there was comfort in a girl her own age, who spoke with such certainty and of mysteries beyond enigma.
who? your maman or the other woman?
a bold chieftain she would be either way.
respectable and fierce.
"bot'," and there was marvel in her voice. "my mamans, dey fought wars dey fought here, too, more den once." she shifted her paws and smiled at enigma.
"you said you lived far away." her emerald eyes were patient. "t'ere are islands, far off dis coast. have you ever seen dem?"
it was almost as if she heard it.
the roar of waves as war drums, the fire of mothers clashing against each other with locked jaws. enigma stared at awe at the woman before her now. to see the descent of such a fearsome woman.
i washed upon one when i arrived.
she confessed in hushed tones. there, a boss our age, a boy.
she told her these things in good faith, an exchange of information in mutual transaction.
he is a bone worshiper.
her throat tightened.
do you speak of his island?
a bone worshipper.
"did he talk of 'de speaker?'"
she turned to look at enigma; her eyes filled with the memory of blackwater. "an' his eyes, were dey like de sea?"
she had not heard words of a speaker but —
druids.
she cooed the word, mystified and low.
it must be the same one.
her voice had dipped into that like gossiping girls, sharing secrets among one another.
mireille shivered; girls telling secrets, ghost stories of dead druids and the ones who were born from the mist.
"do ya be wantin' to fin' him again?" she asked softly, eyes flickering toward enigma. she did not want to ever return. the lwa did not dwell on those dark shores.
i owe him.
she spoke, nearing something closer to a grim understanding.
i washed on his shores, he gave me his supplies. he has asked a price of this.
did mireille understand these things?
i will see him again. wants or not.
to owe was a new concept for mireille, who had never been without the great resources and hunting grounds of her familial land.
her lips tightened as enigma revealed she had no choice but to go back.
"an' what do he be askin' in return?" she asked, forgetting her manners.
enigma did not shy away or shrink before the curiosity.
but she felt laid bare for it all!
the skull of my first kill on the full moon.
she licked her lips, once, then settled her head upon her paws. but not once did her gaze leave the other young ocean woman.
something in mireille relaxed. she had thought their trade would be more sordid; she recalled how guarded the dreadfather had been about things.
and still she did not like it, filled with the warrior's defiance of her mothers.
"what happens when you bring it?"
i do not know.
perhaps it was foolish and brazen to not. to bring such a hefty thing to a man she hardly knew and expect anything good in return.
if i learn more, i owe him more.
her eyes shined bright upon the red woman now.
at last mireille had heard enough!
"i could never owe any'tin' to a man," she said seriously, vague scorn in her tone. "i like my brot'ers well enough, an' my da. but de rest of dem; nah."
the prejudice of sapphique was strong.
she laughed, low and winding.
where i'm from, it is not what one is born worth that determines the worth.
her features crinkled playfully.
it is the worth of what they give you. he saved me. i could be gull food.
she supposed if blackwater had not saved her, the same too would be her end. yet she was resistant, and here her brilliant red tail flipped catlike.
"will you come back an' visit?" mireille chose instead, wanting diplomacy over trying to dissuade enigma otherwise.
she raised her head back up.
flustered, flattered. for a moment she wondered if there was a price here too.
but they had exchanged knowledge, it had been done.
you want me to?
unbecoming to sound so surprised.
their eyes met. she felt a little of what she had experienced once, with druid; a quickening of her pulse, strange but not unpleasant.
"yes," mireille answered, and lifted her chin. "come up to de cliffside an' ask for me."
and in what regard, she did not say, flushing beneath her fur as she made herself hold enigma's gaze.