Black Morass star

she looked for @Ione in the late afternoon's light snow. she had come to the altar now with a bundle of winter-bitten plants. yet she knew that today the value might not be in their worldly use, but their spiritual use.

she, too, knew that these things might need to be inspected by another set of eyes. to build trust, to build loyalty.

delicately she set her things down. her voice the same crooning note she had met the woman with the first time. now here at their place of reverend whispers.

the light of the morass stretched long and golden through the haze of the snow, casting shafts of brilliance that wove between the trees. through this glow, she emerged, a vision cloaked in the glimmer of streaming sun and the softness of her willowy frame.

genevieve, my star, she purred, her voice rolling like honey, sweetened by the delicate note of familiarity.

ione's steps were fluid, her presence marked by a quiet grace as she approached the altar. her pale eyes, heavy with intrigue and something softer still, drifted over the bundle of plants set delicately upon the snow. she paused, the faintest smile curving her lips, before lowering her head to inspect the offering.

you call, and i come, she murmured, lifting her gaze to meet genevieve's, the warmth in her expression softening the coolness of her features.

her star!

her heart soared high above this place. it had gone up above to meet celestial mothers and be blessed, only to come back down into her chest. it was there it beat like a hare's foot.

how lucky am i, reverend mother. she cooed as her tail briefly waved behind her rounded form. i have brought what i could scrounge from the winter's grasp.

sage could be scented in her breath, on her paws where it laid now. brittle and certainly not as potent as it might have been at its height.

mixed with them — the last blackberry leaves she could find.

she wished for a garden, she wished to grow many things and have abundance always. not for mending but only for tending. let her supply the healers, the worshipers.

her chest warmed with pride, her rounded frame seeming almost to glow as she approached her starling. the gifts laid before her were humble but rich with promise, a testament to devotion even in the harsh grip of winter. sage and blackberry leaves—scarce and precious. they were treasures pulled from the earth by hands guided by faith.

the mothers smile upon you, ione murmured, her voice lilting with joy, her soft features lifted in adoration. such devotion. such care. you bring them honor.

her gaze swept over the offerings, lingering briefly before lifting back to meet the eyes of her starling. she stepped forward, brushing her nose gently against her companion’s cheek, a fleeting gesture of affection.

we will bless these together, she decided, her tone resolute yet tender. you are the hand of the mothers, and through you, their will grows. such good work, my starling. such goodness for the mothers.

it was what she had vowed to do. now to hear it whispered so sweetly from the lips of such an esteemed? she only smiled demurely and offered a bow of her head. thank you, genuine even if she barely whispered the words.

the touch, brief but binding. she would remember it fondly. she would think of it in cold moments surely.

i wish to make a garden in their name. such a thing will supply our healers, too. rituals if we have those, as well. but it was approval and guidance she sought now from the mother.

this is a good idea, she murmured, her voice warm and low, as if speaking directly to the mothers above. she stepped closer, her tail sweeping gracefully behind her, before motioning with a dip of her muzzle toward the faint trail leading deeper into the wood.

come, i will show you where it can grow.

she moved with purpose yet kept her pace gentle, ensuring genevieve could stay close. the air grew lighter as they neared a clearing, the canopy above thinning to allow the sun’s touch. the space was modest but serene, kissed by the first whispers of spring’s promise.

ione paused at the edge, her eyes sweeping over the ground, imagining rows of flourishing herbs and vibrant blooms. she turned to her starling, a soft smile curving her lips. here. this will serve them well.

even at a slow pace, she doubled her strides. short thick limbs did not eat up the ground as graciously as the reverend mother but she made up for it with her pace.

here the canopy parted, it allowed the shining of solentia to grow strong. it was not enough to kill the cold of winter but it invited the idea of warmth. illusions of what might grow if this land was tended to. if she closed her eyes, she could picture it in the spring. thawed and full of new growth.

i agree, her eyes opened and her voice carried her whimsy with it. will you tell me what you desire to be grown? what might bring them the most honor or what will find use in this home?

she is thinking of things like will bring joy. she is thinking of things that might bring darkness.

there must be balance in all things.

the clearing bathed them in solentia’s light, a beacon of the gods’ approval, or so ione chose to believe. her gaze swept the land before them, and she could already see the possibilities—the life they would cultivate here, both for the reverence of the mothers and the survival of their own.

we will grow plants to heal, she began, her voice soft but firm, reverent as she spoke of their purpose. to soothe the mothers, to mend the men. to honor their strength and their purpose.

her steps slowed as she reached the center of the clearing, her paws brushing against the frost-coated ground. but there will be another section. one for balance. remedies for... other needs. her eyes flicked toward genevieve, the weight of her words measured but undeniable. poisons. toxins. agents of sleep. these too have their place in the world, for the mothers teach us that light cannot exist without shadow.

she turned fully to face the starling, her rounded frame silhouetted by the faint winter light. will you help me build this balance, genevieve?

here is the truth. shining brightly despite the fact that the darkness of nyxara loomed. the weight of shadows in a voice, they might have suffocated if she did not have the light too.

balance.

and it is the dark underbelly of reality that nyxara exposed to her ears now. that light creates shadows and these two things live together in harmony. so they must do the same, they must be prepared for the same.

of course, her voice is steady now. no act of coyness or uncertainty lingers. there is a light in her eye that glimmered strong despite dark things.

i...know these things already. i will use them in honor of celestial mothers, in protection of imperium. i will make a garden that holds both — and the night will bloom as brilliantly as the day.

genevieve herself was colored in sunshine only to be caped by darkness. perhaps it is no surprise that these things already live in her mind and that for all her radiance, she is willing to do things in the darkness.

good. she listens well.

ione's gaze lingered on her starling, seeing the quiet resolve that settled in genevieve's expression. light and dark, intertwined as the roots of a great tree. it was fitting that the reverend mother should tend to both, should help her shape the garden into a reflection of balance. protection. power.

poisons, she said softly, her tone lilting, almost tender. they are my vice, my knowledge. i will help you weave them into your garden. for the celestial mothers, for imperium.

her tail swayed gently behind her as she stepped closer, her presence both a comfort and a weight. her voice lowered, a whispered promise. the night will bloom as brilliantly as the day, but it will be our secret. the stars will see, but they will not speak.

she touched her nose briefly to genevieve's cheek, her approval clear. balance was a delicate dance, but together, they would perform it flawlessly. they had no other choice.

everything for the celestial mothers, everything for imperium.

how easy it is to give everything when guided by such devotion and warmth. when wrapped up in secrets, feeling the bonds that come with such things.

it will be done. she whispered, eyes fluttering shut softly at the touch, soaking it in as if the sun had come to touch where the reverend mother did.

they will whisper reverend mother when they speak of you — solar eyes open again, the gold not fitting the drab of winter. what will they whisper for me?

genevieve, starling, but what was she in imperium to the masses? beyond the ears of sisters and mothers?

ione's lips curved faintly, a knowing smile that was both soothing and commanding. she reached out, her touch light and deliberate, as though marking her starling for the path ahead.

you will be mother, too, she said softly, her voice a low hymn that carried weight despite its gentleness. a disciple under my watch, a guide to those who seek the celestial mothers’ favor.

her gaze lingered on genevieve, as if she could already see the transformation, the growth that would come. they will whisper of you as they do of all who serve with devotion. a keeper of light, a seeker of truth. the name will find you, as the mothers will.