Flycatcher Downs dropped the ball on this one

@Eshe SORRY

 

If asked why she had gone, Medusa would claim spiritual journey, or whatever. She just needed a minute. And at least she had told the Queen. Medusa had lost the testicular fortitude to shit talk Senmut, tutor dearest, post-ascension. His divine feminine counterpart was far easier to swallow. 

Change, change, and more change. Medusa wasn't sure when it would end, but her head had almost (literally) rolled from it. But... the busyness... she was accustom to it. Didn't mind the chaos anymore. In fact, being so far... she missed it. Everywhere else was far too damn quiet. And that was the worst. 

Alone with her thoughts, all that there was to do was really think. And Medusa found that alone with her thoughts, she was cruel to herself. Better when she wasn't alone, to pay attention to anyone else but herself. Make them cringe and balk and shrink. Does that make you feel big? Strong? 

Uh, hello and goodbye, introspection! Who asked you? 

She should do something. Anything else but freaking think. What had @Senmut taught her... hm... well, she could make an altar! Yes, yes, that... would probably get her some points. With Toula, too... 

Okay, altar building it was. Medusa set off to find some shiny things... and then she would pick who would get an altar picked for them. 

Or... rather, Who would get an altar picked for Them. Yes, it was important to think that way too. Believe it. Because they—They!—would know if you didn't.

the wast flatness stretched on infinite, reaching beyond where those huddled in the mud of the wilderness dared thread. fields upon fields seeded with tough grass readying itself for the scorch of summer. a pronghorn or two, of the great migration that carried them back to their natal lands. 

a shadow, ribbed and sharp-edged, prowling through the swaying grass.

she'd seen the shine of that coat, like an oddity first passed over, then returned to when the wrongness of it struck the soul. a bare spot on the downs, a bone exposed through healthy skin.

wrong, wrong, wrongness.

she prowled to where the palecoat was building a nest, malnourishment making her step weightless.

Feel free to call for her!

There was somebody who reeked of sickness nearby. There was something about the smell that rang every instinctual alarm in Eshe's body—an explicit message to stay away.

She had plans to look for herbs here—berries specifically, as she didn't have many—but the risk outweighed the reward. With her decision made, Eshe began to head in the direction of her home.

feel free to skip her or interact with her :P

she hid in the grass, beneath the parched branches of a bush. her pupils swelled, the svart wishing to swallow the kvit.

but there was another, wormpelt of less offense. the svartravn hid and waited.

Going to close this one out. Let me know if anybody wants to re-open!

Nothing happened, and so she stuck with her gut-instinct. Eshe made it back to her homebase just before sunset, and then promptly went to bed.