Wapun Meadow learning that i’m deserving of love and the peaceful heart

felled by the hanging jaws of her own son, the mother crashed to the earth -- in that moment, astara knew it was all over.

merrick thrust his jaws round his victim's throat, and held true. watching in the distantly clinical manner oft exhibited by bastards and murderers alike, astara observed the glint in indra's eyes. first, wild fear reflected back blazing as wildfire -- then, a stillness crept its way across that amber surface, settling in the manner of a rippling pool restored from its disturbance.

astara was fascinated as she watched that light -- that life -- fade; where did it go?

certainly, not around them, where the snow fell in muted sheets, and the forest was silent.

she watched still as merrick placed his mother-no-more down, watched as for a moment he seemed lighter --

watched even, as the chains hung round his heart dug their course deeper, and pulled him like icarus from his lofty heights (while he was screaming, screaming hoarse) --

tumbling back (screaming still),

back to her (silence).

an ugly prickle of something, righteous possessiveness perhaps, spread its darkness through her and curled the corners of her lips in the faintest of knowing smiles. for if merrick had been exalted by this business of murder and was given a life-anew and free of corruption, he would have likely had little use for her any longer. he would have left her, too.

but now the balance was restored, and he was returned to astara -- kindred spirit, kill-sister. back to the earth, where she was just as deplorable and he no better..

back where he belonged.