Hushed Willows Hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground

Sept 18th — She's calling for her mums (@Seabreeze and @Olive). Tagging leadership too (@Thelxiope and  @Sunny). Anyone is welcome, she's just saying hello.

From where they'd woken in the marsh to a frenzy of birds in flight, of shuddering earth, of trees trying to stay rooted, the pair moved towards the mountains. It startled Ibis more and more as the day progressed; what would've been an easy hike to the fringe of Elysium took far longer as the two girls battled their better judgement - and the thundering of something deep beneath the surface of the soil - to try and reach their destination. The feeling Ibis had experienced (that the earth was moved by Ereshkigal, that everything revolved around her) had dissipated somewhat; she was more than nervous as smaller quakes rolled beneath her paws.

Hours passed after one particularly long-lasting shiver. Although she did not forget about the tremendous strangeness of the feeling (nor stop worrying that worse could be coming), a calm did descened upon Ibis and @Ereshkigal. They made their way along the ridge to where the willows sat, not too far from where Ibis had loitered the last time she'd come by. This time she would visit, she told herself. It would be different.

As she led the way towards the limts of Elysium she found the markings surprisingly vague; she was so fixated on the scents that Ibis did not look up to the majesty of the willows, but if she had, she may have noticed the distinct absence of birds. With a frown collecting on her face she backed off from the territory's edge and sought comfort next to Ereshkigal. This is Elysium, but something... Something is wrong. Maybe they felt the shaking too? Maybe they had found somewhere safer to hide while the earth groaned.

Taking a breath, she separates herself from Ereshkigal and lifts her chin, calling for her mothers.

'Twas a good journey. A peaceful, pleasant voyage. Cerulean takes her through the wilderness, leading her to the place the girl once called home. For her part, Ereshkigal speaks much of the One. . . for there are rumblings within the earth that cannot be ignored. Strange, unsettling things— events of which are usually harbingers of worse times ahead. 

Only the One can save their souls from whatever hell comes next. Cerulean seems keen on the idea, but she must believe, believe, believe. . . Ereshkigal will not have her new friend lost in apocalypse.

She draws to a stoic stop beside the scout, eyes drifting appreciatively over the willows before them. It is beautiful here, she murmurs, lips curving in a delicate smile. Beautiful, but very quiet. Cerulean remarks that something isn't quite right, and the Seductress can almost sense it, if only an illusion created by the fae's words. Ereshkigal cocks her head, slowly, staring through the trees.

Who will come to greet them? The mothers. . .? (She hopes so.) And she pines for her own mother and sisters in that moment, a brief pang that dissipates at the thought of making new acquaintances. They would be proud of her, she knows. She is doing divine work.