When Masquerade had returned, Carrion had shunned her.
She'd refused to so much as lay eyes on the familiar red mask after discovering that her leaving had been intentional. That deserter.
She had felt helpless in the frightening illness of Swooping Cloud and angry at herself for not obeying Wealda sooner. Maybe she could have been more knowledgeable, more useful, if she had not refused to leave the rise to acquaint herself with the river wolves. But positioning herself as a student to complete strangers felt daunting in way she could not explain or even entirely comprehend.
The thought of her sistermother living nearby was something to focus her frustrations on. The ire grew when she heard that Masquerade had given birth -- replaced her entirely! And without making amends first. As if her life wasn't supposed to be on indefinite hold until Carrion had seen fit to forgive her -- those were the rules!
Often, she would express her tumultuous emotions to the ever patient Rotgut. He had no advice for her, at least none she could understand, but it was a way for her to vent. Or rant.
She was ranting to him now.
Soul-wrenched, Carrion's blood ran cold. Her eyes widened to moons, her body going rigid before becoming entirely numb. Her companion's chittering faded. The wind died to nothing. She could not feel nor hear a thing. Her vision rippled.
Then the tears spilled over.
She'd refused to so much as lay eyes on the familiar red mask after discovering that her leaving had been intentional. That deserter.
She had felt helpless in the frightening illness of Swooping Cloud and angry at herself for not obeying Wealda sooner. Maybe she could have been more knowledgeable, more useful, if she had not refused to leave the rise to acquaint herself with the river wolves. But positioning herself as a student to complete strangers felt daunting in way she could not explain or even entirely comprehend.
The thought of her sistermother living nearby was something to focus her frustrations on. The ire grew when she heard that Masquerade had given birth -- replaced her entirely! And without making amends first. As if her life wasn't supposed to be on indefinite hold until Carrion had seen fit to forgive her -- those were the rules!
Often, she would express her tumultuous emotions to the ever patient Rotgut. He had no advice for her, at least none she could understand, but it was a way for her to vent. Or rant.
She was ranting to him now.
And it's persistant, Rot, it's all I can taste now. It dwells — always! — and there's no relief. No relief at all... I know, I know, I've tried. But these thoughts chase me like flies! All they do is buzz! Don't you understand? They give me no rest, and I don't know if I can—Her tirade was reaching its crescendo at the exact moment she received news of Masquerade's death.
Soul-wrenched, Carrion's blood ran cold. Her eyes widened to moons, her body going rigid before becoming entirely numb. Her companion's chittering faded. The wind died to nothing. She could not feel nor hear a thing. Her vision rippled.
The bitter taste is gone,she observed in stunned detachment.
Then the tears spilled over.
TBC -- just chronicling some events for myself.
July 21, 2024, 01:55 AM
I want the bitterness back.
For days after, Carrion wore a circle in the ground around Rotgut's stump.
She paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced. She muttered the same thing over and over.
Where is the bitter taste? I want the bitterness back.
She moved as her thoughts did: cyclically, endlessly, without progression. She would leave the area as her body bade her — either to drink or take a mouthful from the Rise's cache or relieve herself — but she always returned to the stump, as if tethered to it like a junkyard dog. She slept near none of her family and met no one's gaze.
I want the bitterness back.
Her anguish was palpable only to those familiar with her. To a stranger, she would just seem disturbed.
She was numb. Insensate. A newborn again with nothing but the instinct to curl up at her mother's belly and no mother to be found.
Where is the bitter taste?
August 05, 2024, 01:45 AM
Time came and went in measures of nothingness. The world felt nebulous. The shadows lengthened.
There was sun, sometimes, but Carrion did not care for it. She shied away from the attention of others, from their pity, from their love, from their insistence. Let them disown her! None of it mattered anyway. Not if they were just going to die at random — unceremoniously, unfinished, unforgiven.
What was the point of caring about anyone at all?
Why not just sequester herself until the inevitable veil blackened her eyes and ate away her soul?
She realized that even if she did get the bitter taste back, even if she could feel that hate again...
There was sun, sometimes, but Carrion did not care for it. She shied away from the attention of others, from their pity, from their love, from their insistence. Let them disown her! None of it mattered anyway. Not if they were just going to die at random — unceremoniously, unfinished, unforgiven.
What was the point of caring about anyone at all?
Why not just sequester herself until the inevitable veil blackened her eyes and ate away her soul?
She realized that even if she did get the bitter taste back, even if she could feel that hate again...
It won't change anything.
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