He spends much of his time at the tree when he returns, listening to the Daedra. At first it's difficult to pick out specific voices, match them to a name and a sphere — but it gets easier with time. And slowly, he starts to pick out the voice that is calling for him.
The Glister Queen, she calls herself, bestowing a new title upon the wraith without preamble; Glister Witch. The name slithers down his spine like a trickle of ice water, shivering and surreal. He lets it fall from his lips, barely a whisper, and it tastes cold and bright and harsh — and for a moment he feels an overwhelming sense of belonging.
And then it's gone. The faintest footstep behind him breaks the spell, and Meridia fades from him wordlessly. He feels the loss heavily, biting, a grief he'd only known when he'd lost his mother. He swallows hard, stony facade faltering slightly, then solidifying as he turns to face whoever had interrupted. He's past thinking emotions are a weakness — but he knows that wearing them on his sleeve would make it so.
The Glister Queen, she calls herself, bestowing a new title upon the wraith without preamble; Glister Witch. The name slithers down his spine like a trickle of ice water, shivering and surreal. He lets it fall from his lips, barely a whisper, and it tastes cold and bright and harsh — and for a moment he feels an overwhelming sense of belonging.
And then it's gone. The faintest footstep behind him breaks the spell, and Meridia fades from him wordlessly. He feels the loss heavily, biting, a grief he'd only known when he'd lost his mother. He swallows hard, stony facade faltering slightly, then solidifying as he turns to face whoever had interrupted. He's past thinking emotions are a weakness — but he knows that wearing them on his sleeve would make it so.
common|| « french »
April 15, 2021, 04:54 PM
Much as the Glister Witch, the tree calls to the Priestess -- makes the hum of disembodied voices in her mind buzz like a hive of bees, swarming to the forefront to vie for the rights to whisper in the ears of mambo. A sensation that should be altogether unsavory if not downright unpleasant but there's a sense of struggle, a battle amongst the voices that the Bayou queen can sense if not decipher.
Only one can reign. But Mati had never known of a time where one cast out the others -- stealing the rights to speak freely and gagging the rest. It could be wearisome, their war, but the dark girl intended to know who was king amongst gods.
Such was what led her to the willow's grove again this day, seeking to commune with the whisperers and shadow-speakers, not yet realizing that another happened to be there when a snag of underbrush caught on the huntress' nightpelt. A crack of a branch beneath her foot as she freed herself, only to meet the wintersnap gaze of a slim man draped in frost as she straightened.
The panther eyed the man for a moment, unflinching and unblinking as the feline she resembled, before dipping her head slowly in a display of greeting.
Only one can reign. But Mati had never known of a time where one cast out the others -- stealing the rights to speak freely and gagging the rest. It could be wearisome, their war, but the dark girl intended to know who was king amongst gods.
Such was what led her to the willow's grove again this day, seeking to commune with the whisperers and shadow-speakers, not yet realizing that another happened to be there when a snag of underbrush caught on the huntress' nightpelt. A crack of a branch beneath her foot as she freed herself, only to meet the wintersnap gaze of a slim man draped in frost as she straightened.
The panther eyed the man for a moment, unflinching and unblinking as the feline she resembled, before dipping her head slowly in a display of greeting.
"you said she's scared of me?"
"but maybe it's because I'm wearing your c o l o g n e."
"but maybe it's because I'm wearing your c o l o g n e."
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