I see a Red Door
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Ooc — Alisha
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#1
@Shego Forward-dated after the pups returned to Blackfeather Woods.

Home. She was home.

The forest had changed, and yet had not. From a hidden glen deep within the Woods, she smelled pups. Lusa's scent was intertwined with milk, young, and blood. New wolves arrived, all of them female. And her mother's scent was painfully absent.

She thought that, being half a year old, she was old enough to have her own den. Their mother's den (if she did return), was too crowded now, with Burke squeezed in, and Damien growing at accelerated rates. Her mother would understand, of course, as long as she came for her lessons every once and a while.

This was what brought her to Redgrove. It was close to her mother's den, and yet far enough so she still felt some kind of independence. It was also one of her favorite places in Blackfeather Woods, along with the Grotto. But the Grotto was too soft to have a safe den, and too sacred. The heart of Blackfeather was her best bet for a den.

The white pup stood out against the blood red leaves and flowers in a nearly picturesque manner. She glided through, in a way that her mother would be proud of. Perhaps she could find a mangled bush in here, a place where she could dig underneath and be practically hidden in the sea of red. Perhaps, if the Night Mother willed it.
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#2
A new scent, familiar in that it had been noted before, came to her. It was thick. It was young.

The wiry witch moved with haste, her eyes wide and hungry. She had thought maybe it was the newborns that carried her sisters soul. But she could be wrong. This place was the constant. Who... well, that was the question, was it not?

There were ways to summon hints, of course. And her blood magic promised that these hints would be given, now and again. Spells had been cast... and she could cast one now, too, to see if the other felt the dark magic that their family wielded. Some believed the sister that had died to be the "light one", given she brought with her life. But, no. She was perhaps the most twisted of them all. To bring life into this world... that was a curse.

For they would only ever die, and their souls fed Atropos, who looked at the pure, lithe babe.

What a pretty thing. How very lovely.

"Pretty girl," Shego coos, her tail waving; the words she spoke were in earnest.
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#3
Potema thought she had found the perfect spot, tucked underneath a wiry bush of thorns and leaves, hidden amongst the red ocean. She had poked her head underneath the bush, noticing the little bowl it made over the dirt. There was no premade den underneath; she would have to dig the den herself. But it was a task she was well prepared for. Had it not been for the coywolf.

Pricking her ears up at the sound of a strange, unfamiliar voice, Potema backed her head out of the bush, looking with a single, curious eye at the hybrid before her. She had not seen a coywolf before, and did not think to call her that. To her, Shego merely looked very lanky and thin, with a mischievous look naturally placed on her, accentuated by those "glowing" green eyes.

"Thank you, I suppose." She was uncertain on how to respond to such blatant praise, especially when it was spoken in such a slimy manner. She cocked her head as she looked the female over. "Who are you then? And what do you want with me?"

A sorceress, much more powerful than your mother... The voice hissed in an almost pleased manner, content with itself. She knows darker secrets than Meldresi, magicks she cannot even dream of... Potema was confused at the notion. Magic? Her mother did not consider herself a witch, merely a priestess, blessed with the gift of scrying. She had told her about magic before, but never offered to teach her, other than how to read a cobweb or the night sky. Magic was far more intriguing. If this was true, then maybe this wolf would give her a few lessons about magic.
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The sylphs words were met with a verbal lashing, "Say what you mean, and mean what you say. Suppose," she huffs, ears twitching; but she regains her composure, looking over the pretty thing again.

"Shego," she introduces, not yet offering her true name, a name with plenty power. "Only your company."

The woman moves toward the little girl, staring at the scarred eye hungrily. "What happened to you, pretty one?" Shego drew nearer without fear, intrigued by the spot. "Who?"
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#5
She sucked her teeth, her good eye narrowing slightly at the woman's impertinence. This...witch was barely older than the princess herself; she looked to be about a year old, maybe a bit older. But she was new, so she did not know who she was. She would learn, soon enough. "Sure. Thank you, then."

The name sounded strange on her ears and she had heard a large variety of names. Polite social conversation would dictate that she return the favor with her own name, but of course, they were pack members after all. "I am Potema, I'm the Alpha's daughter." She returned, nodding her head in a respectfully regal manner, but her single eye gleamed warily as the witch gave her reasoning for her approach. Just her company? She looked like she wanted more than that.

Again the question came up. What happened to you? Who did that? At least this time, it was spoken without a lick on sympathy. Only curiosity. That, she could tolerate. "I was attacked. I don't remember who did it." Potema recited with practiced ease.
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#6
Age was subjective. Shego was told by many to be wise beyond her years. Forced to grow up early, to judge who would die and when it was they would die. To be possessed by Atropos... what a blessing (what a curse))!

The witch had been taught what she spewed violently to the white one.

As the other introduced herself as the alpha's daughter, Atropos did not bat an eye. "Take care of who you tell this too," she forewarns, "Pretty princesses and their pretty blood make for the best of all sacrifices." Shego did not joke, here; every word was meant. But, she needed no princess or their blood... for now.

Potema responded, and now it was Shego's turn to scrutinize. After a minutes pause, Shego responded--for no reason at all, there was nothing Potema had done to earn her mistrust--"I do not believe you." Shego trusted no one. But, she did not fault the cub. "But then, why should you tell me?"

She lifted her nose. "One eye. One eye..." a splintering headache hit her then, and Shego sucked in the air around her; it sounded like a hiss. "Where did it go? Do you have it?"
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#7
Never before had she been warned in such a strange manner. She could understand why she had to keep her identity a secret from certain people, for the pack had enemies that would gladly kill a daughter of the Dark Brotherhood, but never had she heard the word sacrifice and princess go in the same sentence. "Sacrifice to whom?" She asked, genuinely intrigued. Mephala and Sithis only asked for the blood of their targets, never the Dark Brotherhood themselves, unless it was in service. "And for what kind of ritual then?"

She twitched, wondering why the witch didn't believe her. "If that's what you believe, then fine." She shrugged, though she stood stiff as the witch sucked in the air, hissing. "I-I do..." Her eye was not torn out, but instead blinded, a film of white clouding the baby-blue eye. She had a thought, a thought to which the girl shivered in dread and curiosity: was her eye needed for some bloody and powerful ritual?