Blackfeather Woods and stole my heart away complete
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#1
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much change had come to the wood, and relmyna had never before felt so true the hand of the mother. it was with little regret that she had come to it late, but time stopped for no creature. the colder air of the mornings had begun to lodge in her joints till morning warmth dispelled it; her tics had become stronger. and while it had been a long stretch of time since a seizing fit had gripped the woman, she feared all the same the one that would one day arrive upon her threshold and steal her permanently from blackfeather.
an heir, then — it was maegi she looked to, simply by dint of being the eldest daughter to cicero. the girl was pious, intelligent; it was she whom relmyna wished in her stead. but blackfeather must have a priestess also. and it was the nightcub she sought for that. her daycub was a creature of moonbeams and wandering, and the listener oft wondered if averna would be the one to depart the wood eventually.
she sought @Astara that morning, trailing through the red forest as she followed the delicate tendrils of her child's path toward wherever the somber girl had gone.
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#2
relmyna's night-cub had no way of knowing her mother's designs for her; perhaps it was better and saved them both trouble that she knew not she would soon become pupil -- and so, warily approached her mother. the usual warmth for her dam was shared, but a generous portion of it withheld -- for astara had caught the glint of fondness in relmyna's gaze for maegi, and had become incomprehensibly jealous of it.

she did not hesitate to close the gap between them, greeting her mother with a gentle lick to her chin. all the same a hardness determinedly seized the edge of those melonii eyes, and she waited for whatever dictation with an unusual coldness shrouding her.


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some coldness had come over astara as of late; relmyna did not ascertain until a later thought that it had to do with maegi. a frown touched her lips; her brow smoothed, and she did not touch her daughter. yet the warmth remained; the listener thrust back her ears and gave a low croon as she had done for her babes in infancy. astara, came her silent whisper. 
they were a pair, the two of them, for neither had spoken. and relmyna knew her own muteness was to blame for that, and the wood was largely silent. the shadows beckoned in quietude; the eldritch calm all but demanded it. however, she wished her child to know other ways of communication; her own path had been arduous. what is on your mind? relmyna inquired, though after the echo of her voice had passed, she dropped back into the soft and wordless methods she had always before used.
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relmyna's soft croon was enough to break the icy wall astara had encrusted herself in; quickly the coldness melted, and her mother was met once more with a calm, soft gaze. in her youth astara's whims would be quick to settle, and faster to depart -- as she grew older her fancies would solidify, her convictions would become entrenched -- but for now, she was most malleable, particularly where her mother was concerned.

the girl watched relmyna's mouthings, but if she understood them no token of recognition stirred in her deep indigo eyes. her mother's posturing she understood, and responded to with a slow sweep of her tail. while no answer stirred in her throat her eyes communicated much of her interest, which seemed to inquire in their own way what are we doing?

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#5
astara was not one for words, and relmyna dropped the idea as swiftly as it had occurred to her. if speech did not belong to her nightcub, it was of little import. the ways of primality belonged still to them, and she saw little reason not to utilize them now. it was with a determined step that relmyna led her half-grown daughter off into the silent trees, until she had found the renewed fragrance of maegi where the girl had not long before trod.
indicating the scent with a brief reach of her muzzle, relmyna appraised astara with an encouraging look. her gaze skimmed the child for any sign that her elder sister was the guardian of the cold stone which had held the girl aside from her mother, if only for a moment. perhaps they did not understand the true bond between them.
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the girl obediently tread after the confident step of her mother, mirroring the low sweep of relmyna's assured gait. before long they came across a trail fresh with maegi's scent; astara watched as her mother bent to the trail and apprised her with a pointed look.

the thoughts conveyed in the fractured turquoise of relmyna's gaze were for a moment lost on the nightcub. she fussed along the ground, misinterpreting that they were looking for maegi. it did not occur to her that her dam was inquiring as to the stone's keeper. her brow worked in a creased frown of frustration, wondering if her dam intended for her to stalk maegi's scent until she came across her.

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she had led astara into a mistake. one ear flicked as relmyna considered the situation, chuffing toward the nightcub to draw her off the trail. this was time for the pair of them, not maegi — the priestess moved away in the opposite direction. it unnerved her that astara had said nothing; she did not fear for the girl's ability to communicate, but speech was also a way of their kind. would her daughter's life be harder for it?
brow furrowed, the listener paused in their trek at the sound of a harsh caw. glancing up, relmyna gestured toward the large dark bird perched above them, its shining eye fixed inexplicably upon astara. perhaps a message, she murmured noiselessly, gaze settling on her dark child.
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#8
her hips swung from the force of her wagging tail as she excitedly coursed maegi's scent. a chuff pulled the concentration out from under her, and as she looked upon her dam she read plainly the lack of affirmation in relmyna's countenance. feeling somewhat dismayed, astara slowly detached herself from the trail. she padded up alongside her mother, her gaze lingering on the trail she had found with confusion.

a harsh cry above gave her pause: she followed relmyna's gaze, startled to see the stare returned in the beady, oilspill form of an avian eye. it unnerved her. her hackles rifled upright and instinctively she sprung for the bird despite it being well out of her reach -- anything to break the intensity of that blackened stare.


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#9
relmyna gave to astara a gentle nuzzle, a low sound that told her child not to fear. these were the original denziens of blackfeather, and would be for years after the bones of all they knew had turned to dust. to fear them was one thing; to revere them another. alongside the nightcub, the listener lowered herself into a bow, chin against the dirt in a show of reverence of for the bird-god.
in time, the corvid blinked, its caw splitting through the air. in a rustle of sharp wings, it had ascended into the canopy. only then did relmyna straighten, granting astara an encouraging smile. it was a good thing that the bird had come, and later the priestess would inquire as to what its gaze had meant.
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#10
the feisty child landed in a rumpled heap, staring upright still at the black plumes of the beast which sat wholly out of reach. astara eyed its clacking form resentfully, a low growl bubbling in her throat as she saw it shake its long wings and flutter well beyond her vision.

she turned in time to see her mother prone on the ground; this position vexed the girl, and she approached with her head tilted. the body language was not unknown to astara, for she had seen it displayed in moments of subservience among her packmates. did her mother believe those winged rats were somehow better than them? why would a creature possessing fangs and claws ever bow to a plumed and fragile race? astara's ears swept back - half in confusion, half in slight disbelief.

surely it was a joke, right?

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#11
astara's consternation did not go unnoticed, and while relmyna was hard-pressed not to smile at her daughter's expression, she wished to impress upon the nightcub the significance of the jetblack birds. she led them through the eldritch weald until the earth beneath began to turn white with scattered ivory.
here now, the graveyard of the corvids. it was a place flickering with an ancient energy that even the listener could not understand, but here in her heart was reverence. look, came the expression of her eyes: a wolfskull among the delicate bird-bones. picked clean and held in this sacred charnel-house; would astara understand.
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#12
astara was a proud girl; and yet, pride had been the ruin of many men. she glanced from the mother she adored to the darkly clad, raucous subjects. surely there was a deeper meaning here she had yet to grasp 

mute as ever the nightcub followed the sweeping strides of her dam. underfoot the raw crunch of whittled bones announced their passing - astara felt a chill climb her spine as they moved, yet it was the grim and spectral smile of her felled kin that’s undid her. she glanced upon it’s fractured forehead, the deep cleft of its vacant orbital plate. 

it stared back; astara felt aware of a hostile presence in those sightless holes - a malign and sleeping will that spread its reach around them. a growl started low in her throat, and she looked fearfully to her mother for some sort of comfort.

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#13
astara started; relmyna brushed her daughter's cheek with a gentle kiss, a soft sound low in her throat. this was not a place to be feared; it was one that demanded reverence. the blood of meloniis pulsed in the nightcub, and the listener knew no spirit of this place would ever rear itself to harm her children.
stepping forward, the woman feathered a light tracing of her lips along the dome of the skull, touching it in a worshipful silence. whoever this had been, its magick had been known by the blackwinged birds above, and they had placed it here in their own rite, an eldritch comingling of the dark brotherhood and its corvid counterparts.
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#14
astara: NOPE!

she watched in wary silence as her mother pressed ahead; a gentle nudge had been passed along her ruffled cheek, but the nightcub did not alter the bristling of her fur. she watched as her mother bent to the fractured dome of the skeleton and seemed to tenderly drag her muzzle across it. this bizarre gesture meant little to astara, who seemed to witness this all with a perturbed sort of discomfort.

and then, deciding she had no reason to fear this wretched and inanimate thing any longer, astara sprung upon the skull with a merciless growl, and seized it by its orbital socket -- without dallying (for she expected the scolding of her mother shortly after) the nightcub dragged the heavy load from its long-standing rest, and galloped awkwardly off with it.

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#15
l m a o! lettuce wrap up here cuz im a slowpoke

relmyna knew it was not for her to understand how the gods manifested in astara and averna. and yet, shock, then horror, gripped her visage as her nightcub stole the skull from its perch. the woman started forward, holding herself back only when the absence of cawing anger from the blackbirds seemed to suggest all remained well.
blinking up at them in chagrin, the listener dipped her scarred muzzle; turning with a sigh, she set off at a lop after astara. whatever plans the child had for the ivoried old thing, she wanted to know. she must know, both out of curiosity and a deep fear the gods would be upset all the same.
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it was a good thing astara was unaware of the black mark she was incurring, desecrating the sacred face of some old god's shrine. gods had a way of being mercilessly powerful -- and incredibly unforgiving -- so, either these gods were the kind of revengeful twats that would scheme some asshole plan to smite her when she thought she was safe, or, these weren't gods at all.

astara of course, would have gone for the latter - the atheist option would have appealed to the hellraiser, if she was ever introduced to the concept. right now the only concept she was aware of, was that she had a skull -- a giant, massive skull -- and it was a skull her dam had implied was important.

cackling shrilly, the girl didn't stop as she heard her mother's disapproving tread behind her; even the way relmyna's paws crunched over leaves seemed to portend to some nuanced resignation on the mother's part -- why was her child such a fruitbat?

the world would, evidently, never know -- and neither would the skull, which this entire time had been half-dragged on the ground with loud thumps echoing behind it each stride, enduring its humiliating and unprecedented journey with the obscene grin one expected from a deskinned skull ; thump, thump, thump, went the bobbing motion of the skull's nasal bone against dirt; thump, scrape, thump, as the black and sightless orbit stared skyward, hauled in defilement to some unknown designation by a witless kid.

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