Dragoncrest Cliffs the devil in the belfry

she's brought a couple of hares to sweeten the deal.

she knows this will not be easy. that this request will not be taken well. but she knows, too, as she howls for @Rosalyn and @Erzulie, that she will not take no for an answer.

something within her has ached since she left Karst behind. her heart, perhaps? she hadn't thought herself capable of that kind of emotion, save for her mother. no, she thinks, it's more a feeling of duty and responsibility for the boy she unwillingly abandoned.

she has to get him out of there. at least down the mountain and away from that witch—he deserves at least the chance to be free.

she may die in the process. actually, she thinks she will. but. . .a part of her died when Aventus bore his teeth and her parents did nothing. so how different is this, really?

Avicus stands on the edge of the cliffs, in the sunset shade of sequoias, wind tousling her russet pelt.

the summoning of the red siren brought the obsidian awake. she shook herself free of the warm and growing bodies slung over and beside her, and allowed a footpath to carry her toward the summons.
the wind played upon the edges of the hardened young woman. erzulie drew alongside and turned her own mismatched gaze out over the sea.
the scent of redwood trees surrounded them. she glanced slowly to the hunter, but did not seek to hurry either of them.
the aroma of hare's-blood filled the spaces between.

After her trip to glacier, Rosalyn had not gone beyond the plains that neighbored them, remaining closer to home since. There was plenty to keep her here and she knew, by this point, there was little use chasing shadows. They continued - another crack, collected and endured.

She heard the summons and rose to her paws, walking languidly to the place where Erzulie and Avicus waited. She'd been taking a break in the shade before continuing her hunt, trailing the edge of the forest for anything small before she would turn to the ocean instead. It was getting late and as the sun faded, the beach would be more forgiving. She'd meant to rise sooner but, resting, the afternoon had gotten away from her. Avicus' call had snapped her from her thoughts.

Apparently that was alright. Rosalyn looked at the rabbits at her feet, then looked at the younger wolf's expression. It was serious... and she wondered about the occasion. Simply a gift or something more?

first Erzulie, then Rosalyn. Avicus takes a deep breath, bracing herself, knowing she is about to spill the most words she has in a very long time—perhaps ever, even from before her tongue's demise.

fren', she begins. her indigo eyes scan the horizon, then she pauses, nodding toward the distant mountains. a boy. have him. i. . .muh' geh' him backh.

the last word was difficult, but important. help him, Avicus says, and brings her muzzle sharply down to her own sternum, gesturing toward herself. i wih' be backh.

her gaze finds the two women, seeking, imploring. she is not asking for permission, only for understanding.

she will be back.

where else is there to go?

this scene reminded her too strongly of haunt, departing to find her mother. a capable, changed girl had returned. but she had not suffered in the way avicus had; erzulie remembered the frightened, bleeding young wolf she had found upon their boundaries.
she exchanged a look with her wife.
there was nothing else to say, she felt. the beryl meant to leave. sapphique could bar her from returning or throw wide the gates when she came back.
"i be worryin' about you, ma fille," erzulie found herself saying aloud instead. who was this individual? why did avicus need to leave to find him. "where do dis boy be?"

Rosalyn could barely make out what she was saying, but she tried to follow. Her brow knitted with consternation and she met Erzulie's glance, but it wasn't until her wife asked the question that the pirate truly understood.

Her jaw clenched and her eyes focused on Avicus, waiting for the answer. Her mind, however, was elsewhere... momentarily gripped with the feeling of being held against all attempts to break free. They have him. What remained of her ears pinned back, but her intensity wasn't for Avicus.

Sapphique would take no prisoners, no matter the cause, no matter the circumstances. Better to kill a wolf than to hold them; she knew this firsthand. If others held this practice, then they deserved death, as sure as the ones who had once held her.

her heart melts and threatens to melt all over as Erzulie speaks. she doesn't know how to respond. she looks at the woman, trying to parse her words. why would she care so much? why would she worry? it's a strange emotion, within her.

i. . . she looks at Rosalyn, sucking in a breath. she dips her chin at a distant spot on the horizon, toward where she thinks the mountain is. there's other crags, but they are higher—and with no frame of reference, she can't describe where exactly she's going.

she nods, more certainly. be bagh, she promises.

but not without the boy—she's certain of that. the fight to win him over will likely kill her—but so much has tried to do so already, right?

far, in the mountains. avicus could not say more, and erzulie would not try to cruelly force it from her.
the crimson girl and haunt felt now, almost like daughters to her —
she reached out, meaning to embrace the beryl before she departed. "you be back."
a repetition, a talisman to bring avicus back if she could not persuade the young woman to stay.

She would like to go with. Avicus' words had triggered a hot desire for revenge in her that she hadn't felt for a long time. She did not even know this boy, but that helplessness she knew. The look on Avicus' face she also knew.

She could not. But she would like to.

Erzulie covered everything that needed said, and the words Rosalyn would have offered were hardly helpful. Bring them pain, her mind urged, and it was matched by hot violence in her remaining eye. But she nodded in affirmation as well.

It was more important that she return.

she presses against Erzulie, and gives Rosalyn a firm nod. the latter meets her gaze and there's the same glint in their eyes, the look of one touched by violence—received and given. it makes her feel a bit better, leaving them like this.

it's a worthy enough cause. and she will be back.

not wanting to let a second longer slip by, she turns and begins her journey toward the moonwoman's lair, shoulders stiff, ears swiveling to catch the sounds around her.

she will be back. at least someday.