Black Morass armageddon

ione moved silently through the morass, her thin frame brushing against the gnarled trees as she rubbed her side along their bark. her scent lingered in the damp air, a quiet claim etched into the earth. the murky water lapped softly at her paws with each careful step, her gaze drifting through the fog-laden surroundings.

she paused briefly, ears flicking at the faint sounds of the swamp—branches creaking, distant croaks of frogs. there was no sign of company yet, but she wandered further, her pale eyes scanning the shadows for any movement. she did not call out, instead letting her presence be known in the way she moved, deliberate and unhurried, through the stillness.

she could smell others.

over the perfume of thick mud and strong trees, there were wolves. it was a lonely heart that beat within her now. desperate to be somewhere again that could give purpose, could give direction.

she thought she heard someone nearing. someone whose steps sounded more certain than the slow bumbling that genevieve had been doing. her voice a soft crooning note in hopeful summoning of company.

the sound of another brought ione to stillness, her thin body poised in the dappled light filtering through the trees. the voice was soft, beckoning, and curiosity curved her lips into a sly smile.

she moved toward the sound with deliberate grace, her steps light and purposeful, her fur catching faint glimmers of light as she emerged. her golden eyes landed on the woman, and she let her gaze linger, appreciative and warm.

well, aren’t you a vision, she purred, her voice low, the corners of her mouth curling further as she drew closer. what brings such beauty to a place like this? are you lost, or have the trees been kind enough to guide you to me?

her head tilted slightly, a playful spark in her eyes as she let her words hang, waiting for the woman’s reply.

this woman was beautiful. wild but whimsical. painted in shades of white and grey that made her seem cloaked by the wilds herself. oh and her figure! taller than herself and thin with such regality. genevieve could not help it if she wished to fawn over the woman already.

i believe they were kind to me, my lady. her smile soft and sheepish. a rounded face radiating warmth and sunshine. for they guided me here to you and let me gaze such beauty! if she was not so genuine, it might have sounded like flattery. instead she is only worshipful in her words.

i am genevieve, my lady. a little bow, but she refrained from raising a paw to her chest. fearful that it might ruin her cleaned coat.

she soaked in the woman’s praise like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. her blue eyes gleamed, predatory but amused, as the words rolled off genevieve's tongue with a sincerity that could only be born of awe. beautiful, malleable—a creature who could be shaped and guided with a gentle hand or a firm grasp.

oh, genevieve, ione murmured, her voice dripping with warmth and charm, her gaze sweeping over the smaller wolf with deliberate slowness. how gracious you are to speak so kindly. perhaps the celestial mothers knew precisely what they were doing.

she stepped closer, her movements fluid, her presence commanding yet soft, like silk brushing against skin.

i am ione, reverend mother of imperium, she said, her tone smooth and reverent, as though the title itself were a blessing bestowed upon the woman before her. tell me, little star, do you seek a place in the world? for i might have just the answer to that longing in your heart.

her lips curved slightly, her gaze unbreaking as she awaited the woman’s response, every part of her a siren’s call cloaked in promise.

celestial mothers.

she was so enamored by the idea, the concept. did they walk here among them? or perhaps they were the guiding stars in the sky, the sun that created warmth. here on the ground was the reverend mother. so divine a figure that it was enough to cease her thoughts of celestial mothers.

how beautiful a thing, to be dubbed little star. to be given any kind of connection to this idea of celestial mothers. i do, reverend mother. she used the proper title now. ione was not simply any lady. it seemed she filled a specific spot.

and it would be the joy of a little star to be where celestial mothers watch. the picture of obedience, a soft smile and proper posture. will you tell me more, reverend mother?

the celestial mothers have always been with us, genevieve. they are not bound to our earth, yet they do not leave it, either. they are the pulse beneath our paws, the stars above our heads, and the breath we exhale into the wind. their essence is in the prey we hunt, the rivers we drink from, and the fire that warms our dens.

she shifted, her tall, silver-white form gliding closer, as though the reverence of her words demanded intimacy. they are eternal, but they are not cold, little star. solentia, the great mother, cradles all in her balance—life and death, beginnings and ends. it is her warmth you feel in the rising sun. and it is nyxara who watches when the night covers the world in its shroud, whispering truths to those brave enough to listen.

her voice dipped lower, a secret unveiled. they have given us their daughters to guide our steps, to teach us strength, cunning, and wisdom. each celestial mother calls to her own. when you feel the tide pulling you forward or the fire urging you to stand, that is their voice, genevieve. they call you as they call me, as they call all of our sisters.

ione’s lips curved into a faint smile, the beauty of her face touched by something unearthly, as though she were not only speaking of the celestial mothers but carrying their presence within her. we are not simply animals of blood, you see. we are their chosen. their daughters. and it is our purpose to walk the path they have laid before us.

she paused, her gaze steady and expectant. does this soothe your curiosity, little star? or do you crave more?

and in this moment her world expanded. she was not servant or handmaid. she was a disciple, a budding priest at the side of holiness.

solentia. nyxara.

celestial mothers who guided their children. and she? she must be a child. their little star who dreamed of the radiant sun and the warmth of its hold. one day might she be so bright to be compared to the sun, to speak with such shine as the reverend mother did. it was not power she sought from this though. only knowledge, only belonging.

daughters on a path. a higher purpose than feral animals that fought through the lands. there was more to life than just that.

i will always crave more words of them and the existence lived on their path. she held some sense of sheepishness when she said this now. a chin tucked slightly and gaze lingering off towards the side. would there be an eternity to learn from your side, reverend mother?

ione’s gaze softened with approval, her paw rising delicately to touch beneath genevieve’s chin, guiding it upward with a gentle firmness.

that is what we women must do, is it not? her voice, quiet yet unyielding, seemed to carry the weight of stars. we seek more—more wisdom, more belonging, more light to fill the shadows of our hearts. it is our nature, little star, and it is our strength.

she lowered her paw with grace, her expression thoughtful. the celestial mothers do not demand perfection, but they do ask for devotion. step by step, you will learn. you will rise. there is an eternity in their embrace, if you are willing to walk their path. and genevieve, her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile,

you belong already.

she felt treasured, seen and captured. perhaps capture was too sharp of a word. it was a warm holding that she did not wish to break free from ever. not if there was always so much learning and growing.

her face cupped.

belonging given to her in such sweet tones.

i will stay. she whispered her devotion now. meant only for their ears, for the ears of the celestial mothers who surely heard all they said. after all it had surely been them that guided her down this path. my devotion will be shown in words and actions. i promise this to solentia, nyxara and you.

ione smiled softly, her gaze lingering on the woman before her, seeing not just her beauty but her malleable spirit, ripe for the shaping.

this is good, she murmured, her voice a gentle ripple of approval. leaning forward, she pressed her lips to genevieve's forehead, the touch both tender and deliberate, a quiet act of claiming. the faintest trace of her scent was left behind, a mark that spoke louder than any word of possession.

drawing back, she gestured gracefully with a paw, her form shifting to lead. come, i will show you the altars. her voice carried the weight of purpose, a guide through devotion, her steps firm as she began to move, expecting genevieve to follow without hesitation. solentia does not wait.