Black Morass despechá

for the lovely @Ione < 3

in the early morn lay the priestess, perched atop a cold boulders surface. between her paws was cradled the skull of a wolf she'd found in her travels, and had kept as a trinket of sorts. poised and pristine, she exhaled a soft sigh. one of her paws brushed atop the smooth surface of the bone, and her lips curl into a satisfied smile. 

"hermosa, incluso en la muerte." she purred.

ione emerged from the shadows with the deliberate grace of a queen, each step measured, her pale fur catching the weak light that filtered through the morass. her gaze, cold but captivating, swept over the stranger perched atop her altar. the sight of the woman—beautiful, unafraid—stirred something deep and fleeting within her, but ione was no fool to let it linger. beauty could be as dangerous as any blade.

hermosa, sí, ione said, her voice smooth and low, the spanish rolling off her tongue like silk. she tilted her head slightly, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. pero no es el lugar para admirar la muerte... no sin permiso.

her icy blue eyes locked onto the woman, piercing yet calm, a predator assessing whether to pounce or wait. she drew closer, her movements as fluid as the mist around them, her tail trailing behind her like a banner.

has entrado en mis tierras, she continued, her tone cool and regal, as if the very earth beneath them answered to her alone. dime, hermosa, ¿a qué debo el honor? her words were laced with subtle challenge, yet her gaze lingered, intrigued by the audacity of the trespasser.

claws dig into the smooth surface of bone, creating hollow little grooves in their wake. a woman joins her; gorgeous and with an air of nobility and influence. her voice is as soft as silk. isobel returns the smile, beguiling and calm. 

the pair of icy eyes were assessing, vigilant. the priestess meant no trouble, less the woman standing before her asked for such.

with a languid, cat-like stretch, she rises from her perch and nudges the skull aside with her paw. turning to face the woman, her eyes of citrine rake over her, unashamedly. she'd always been an admirer of beauty, and this sylph was no exception. 

"mi nombre es isobel. ¿y tú, bella?" she hums, her voice a seductive purr.

es un placer conocerte, isobel, the mother responds with a soft smile, her eyes glimmering with a studied calm. she steps forward, her regal bearing radiating authority and grace.

me conocen como la madre reverenda, guía de aquellos que buscan el equilibrio entre la luz y la oscuridad. her voice is soft, a seductive whisper that glides like the night breeze.

she pauses, her eyes tracing isobel with evident appreciation before continuing. veo que eres una criatura de gran belleza y fuerza. tal vez el destino nos haya reunido aquí, en este momento. dime, ¿qué buscas, bella? porque todo aquel que se cruza en mi camino suele necesitar algo... aunque a veces aún no lo sepan.

her smiles turns cheshire, and eyes of gold gleam with satisfaction. allure. this woman was charming, both with her beauty and her words of silk. isobel steps forward, tail swaying languidly at her hind. her steps were confident and fluid.

"este placer es todo mío, reverenda madre. no es frecuente que conozca a una mujer hermosa y poderosa. los dioses me han bendecido en este día." words spoken with rapture, for she was now at this woman's altar. 

she wonders then, what she'd done to please the gods for them to bless her with this opportunity. a chance to rise once again to the power she'd once achieved, stolen from her grip. 

another step, and isobel's gliding alongside the woman. bold in her appreciation, as a woman so divine and rich deserves the praise. "hay mucho que deseo, pero una cosa necesito; un altar para servir a los dioses y predicar sus bendiciones. una vex fui suma sacerdotisa."

"dices que estas son tus tierras. dígame, reverenda madre, qué buscan usted y su pueblo. tengo muchos... activos." she purrs.

los dioses, querida, tienen sus formas de guiarnos a donde pertenecemos, ione purred, her voice smooth, rich, and warm. she stepped closer, circling isobel with an air of possession. si es divinidad lo que buscas, aquí encontrarás más que un altar. encontrarás propósito, comunidad, y un camino trazado por las manos mismas de los dioses.

her gaze dropped to the earth, as if the roots themselves were imbued with power. nuestras tierras están marcadas por altares consagrados, cada uno dedicado a la dualidad de luz y oscuridad, de creación y destrucción. aquí, no solo predicamos; servimos. sacrificamos. adoramos.

her eyes returned to isobel’s, sparking with a fervor only faith could inspire. si has sido suma sacerdotisa, entonces conoces el peso y la recompensa de guiar almas hacia el equilibrio. bajo mi guía, tendrás un lugar entre nosotros, una oportunidad para elevarte, para probar tu devoción.

ione tilted her head slightly, her tone becoming almost intimate. todo lo que posees, todo lo que eres... eso, también, puede servir a un propósito mayor. si te entregas a nuestra causa, te prometo que tus días de caída serán un recuerdo lejano. ven, isobel. camina conmigo hacia la divinidad.

power is a seductive mistress, one isobel simply cannot resist. she used to have so much of it, used to bathe in it. only to wind up with nothing. 

ione is offering it to her on a silver platter. who is isobel to refuse? 

words like honey, they make the priestess swoon. she needed not much convincing, but ione's conviction crawled beneath her skin and made itself a home. isobel's veins thrummed with desire. 

rituals. sacrifices. prayers and worship. what more is there to life, than to worship at the altar of a god who'd imbue one with power? 

she was sold. hooked, line and sinker. isobel smiles then, a glint in her eyes. 

"a woman after my own heart," she teased with soft laughter. "i don't need to hear more. i will follow you, ione. i will worship you." she declared, her mind already set. whenever ione would go, she would follow. whatever ione asked of her to do, she'd see it done with haste. 

"the gods have given me new purpose, a new path. it would be an honor to walk that path with you, my queen."

her queen, her salvation, her goddess.

ione's smile was slow, a thing of indulgence, of satisfaction curling like smoke at the edges of her lips. the morass had called, and isobel had answered.

good.

the words dripped from her tongue like syrup, thick and heady, meant to sink deep, to coil around isobel’s bones. she stepped closer, letting her presence press against the other woman’s, testing, claiming, ensuring that there would be no room left for doubt.

you will serve well. and you will be rewarded.

she turned then, dark paws moving effortlessly over the sodden earth, the air thick with the scent of damp rot and something older, something sacred. the morass loomed ahead, waiting, always waiting.

come, isobel.

an invitation. a command.

let me show you the mouth of the gods.