Blackwater Islands trickster

the altar was set. the moon had disappeared from the sky.

the listener was ready.

she sought @Alduin under a dark star-jeweled sky, the greensweet fragrance of herbs surrounding her like an aura. tonight, they would learn the nature of his curse. they would learn how to break it, if it could be broken. her heart drummed loud and steady in her ears as she followed the executioner's scent, anticipation filling her with dark energy.

The hellhound would be on one of the other main islands — the one where most of them stay. He doesn’t know the name for this island, or any of the others, but he is content to stick to one when he’s not exploring the others.

Tonight the sky is clear, spotted with flickering stars and planets. The moon paints a sickly blue light onto the ground, tainting his silvery pelt iridescent and abstract. He knows not of the listener’s plans this night but he would soon find out. Sooner rather than later, for he sees her lithe form appear from the shadows (how very shadow of her). She would beckon him and he would go silently and without question. He does wonder where she takes him though, especially as they hit the coast and paddle through the tides to another nearby island. One he hasn’t been on yet.

When paws hit the sand on the other side, he notices the stark silence of it. It’s aura is mysterious — disturbingly quiet save for their twin footsteps and the occasional caw of ravens. While he keeps his head even with his back as he lumbers beside his shadow, his eyes roam in the the dark horizon, past trees and shrubs into the blackness of night. 

Eventually, they would come to a waterfall and his massive head would tilt up to view its greatness. Only she beckons him further. He allows his bloody eyes to meet her own before he’s following in behind her, allowing the water to soak his fur as he goes. 

When they’re deposited inside, Alduin’s eyes never stop their incessant looking. This way, that way — he takes in all the sights in muted awe. Quite nice this place. He can’t help but notice the Shadow’s distinct scent in here. This must be an important space to her and immediately he thinks of her alter — her skyrock. 

Soon he finds out he was right.

in silence the prophet collected her executioner. they were alone, a pair of feral children glinting under the starlight. their faint cast lent the listener's own coat a midnight glow, a faint blue sheen gifted to her by her ancestors. but she was unaware of her own radiance; instead, her eyes lingered on alduin, on the mottled silver moonscape of his pelt.

and as they traveled, she mulled the meaning behind the deep scarlet of his eyes. red. the color of betrayal.

when the pair passed under the waterfall, the listener turned to alduin with burning eyes. tonight, i mean to call on the unnamed god. to seek the answers to your questions. i believe you have our god's favor; you have shed blood for the druids, passed judgment on a traitor. the unnamed god gives freely to enforcers of our faith.

she led him to her altar, where the gored and twitching body of a coyote lay dying. its maw was stretched wide, too wide, the skyrock jammed down a bleeding and torn throat. flowers and herbs surrounded the body, sacred bones laid before it on a bed of silver-green leaves like an offering. the air was thick with blood.

when you are ready, we will begin.

He notices her burning, two-toned gaze on him and he almost cherishes it. He doesn’t let himself linger long, for her alter beckons them both to the sacrifice laid on it. A coyote, still twitching sadistically in its journey to the afterlife. Alduin lays his eyes upon it and watches it with twisted interest. Not a single spec of emotion besides muted wonder glimmering in wine red orbs. Flowers and plants of many type surround it, as well as her sacred bones. He has to look a second longer for the skyrock, only to notice it’s shoved haphazardly into the coyotes torn and bloody throat. 

His Shadow speaks then. Always a pinch cryptic with her words, but Alduin has no problem understanding their meaning. He knows now why they’re here and he fitfully feels his heartbeat faster with anticipation. 

Her eyes bear unto his, he shifts his gaze back to her. There’s a darkness to his gaze, excitement, anticipation, and uncertainty for what is to come. Uncertainty about what he will find out about his curse — his Banesteppe. All of these emotions are muted though, not even on purpose either. For his life has been hard on him and the tricks his mind plays even more so. 

So when she signals that she’s ready when ever he is, he nods once in return. “Then I too, am ready, my Shadow.” He rumbles in that deep, scratchy baritone. Eagerly anticipating what may happen next.

He almost believes he won’t get out of this alive. He can feel the fuming energy of Banesteppe behind him — ever present. But he isn’t happy. Nor is happy whenever Alduin is in the Shadows presence. He’s a jealous being much like himself and he demands every ounce of the cursed one’s attention. 

But right now, Alduin only has eyes for the listener.

and so it began. the listener gathered the most sacred of her ceremonial bones with the care of a mother lifting her children, reverent as she spread them before alduin.

from the nightweaver, the power to master our minds, the prophet whispered, turning the spine so that one end pointed to alduin, and the other to herself. from the stormborn, the courage to know our hearts. to the rib bone, she did the same.

she sat before the bones and closed her eyes. alduin. think of your curse. bring it to the front of your mind. think of nothing else.

already her veins coursed with eldritch berries. the infinite darkness yawned before her, beckoning. red eyes gleamed from the black. with the faint song of the spirits in her ears, the listener reached out.

she had been created for this. this, the peril, the power, the thrill of peering into the void with nothing but the wind at her back. and if she fell into the dark,

she, who was made of light,

then those endless corridors would know her fire forever.


...


when at last her long journey brought her back to the shores of her own vessel, the listener woke from her trance with a gasp and a trembling weakness in her limbs, still seated before the bones. she fell, and rose with distant, misty eyes. the coyote was dead.

alduin, she seemed to see him for the first time. her eyes abruptly turned sharp, haunted. you are the cursed one, and your suffering will end as you take your final breath. you are the sentinel. the watcher of the last gate.

the beast which plagues you; he goes by many names, but none of them are his true name. he is known to me only as the king of demons. the trickster whose final trick will end the world.

The listener acknowledges his words by continuing to prep for her ritual. There are many bones splayed out on the alter and she picks them up with a gentle, feather light touch only to place them around the hellhound. Alduin watches her closely as she does so, allowing his eyes to roam over her thin build and stop on her two toned gaze of sun and moon. Words fall from her streamline muzzle in a quiet whisper and Alduin’s spotted auds cup towards her to listen closely as she positions the spine and rib. 

She sits neatly across from him, looking so much smaller compared to the great hellhound. There, she tells him to think of his curse — to think of Banesteppe and nothing else. He would mirror her, allowing dark lids to cover the wine red of his eyes. He focuses on Banesteppe — the feeling of him, the sound of him, the presence of him. He feels the entity come closer, cutting the distance between then forebodingly.

So you wish to seek the truth, my cursed boy? Banesteppe purrs in his ear as if he’s taunting him. You think she will show it to you?

Alduin’s brows furrow, but he tries to concentrate anyhow. Ignoring Banesteppe’s words and focusing on his presence alone.

After some time of said concentrating, his shadow startles him out of his trace like state. Her gasp is loud to his ears — cutting through the silence and sparking a certain type of concern in his breast. He fitfully allows his eyes to open and instantly he meets her own form. Her body quivers as she awakens, her limbs seemingly unable to hold her, she falls. Instantly, Alduin crowds a touch closer to her, using his muzzle in an attempt to help her up even though he’s sure her strong willed body and mind doesn’t need it.

Her eyes are hazy, distance and he only bakes away from her about a hairs length when she begins to speak. His eyes never leave hers and the bloody red orbs have an intensity to them as he takes in her voice. 

Alduin,

Her eyes become clear, but she looks at him — gaze as sharp as a knife. He backs up a touch more and stares back at her with a morbid curiosity in his own deathly stare. 

you are the cursed one, She says forebodingly. and your suffering will end as you take your final breath. you are the sentinel. the watcher of the last gate.

At these words his brows furrow. She partly confirms what he knows already. That he is cursed and his suffering will only cease when he dies — even though Banesteppe is adamant that he will continue to be his slave even in death. But she trails off, saying that he is the watcher  of the last gate. He doesn’t know what she means by this and surely a soft questioning would appear in that dark gaze. 

the beast which plagues you; he goes by many names, but none of them are his true name. he is known to me only as the king of demons. the trickster whose final trick will end the world.

His eyes slightly widen at this array of information. Vaguely he hears Banesteppe chuckle devilishly as she reveals it. He knew Banesteppe had to be some type of demon — some type of trickster, but not this, the king of demons. And more specifically the part where she says that his last trick will end the world.

So he is Banesteppe’s metaphorical gatekeeper. Is it Alduin that keeps him at bay? Or is Alduin a part of his master plan to do irreversible damage to the world? Is he a stepping stone to something worse? What is this demon king’s plan? 

There’s so many questions floating through his head and he is quite speechless. But Banesteppe steps beside him, curling an alien hand into the fur of his nape and tugging on the loose skin with a deathly grip. He bends down to Alduin’s level, a malicious smirk shows his straight teeth.

Are you satisfied now, my little hellhound? He questions teasingly. You believe she speaks of something new, but I feel like you knew where this was going for some time now, hm?

Only then he lets go of his scruff to smooth one hand over his massive head and the other over Alduin’s cheek. His touch is almost soft, but the look in his eyes is conniving. 

You will learn to obey me. You will learn to love me. You will learn to serve me. For you will be lost without me, my reaper. He purrs in a way that almost seems genuine before standing. You will see.

All while this interaction with Banesteppe happens, Alduin would be seen staring off into the distance to the listener. Unless she too can see him, his own gaze would seem focused on a specific spot — focused on Banesteppe as he speaks to him and touches him. Though when the demon stands his eyes blink as he focuses back onto the listener, brows furrowing and a scowl making its way on his face from Banesteppe’s promising words. 

Alduin is terrified of him being right. Terrified that he will eventually fall into Banesteppe’s trap and obey him without question — to a point that he will not be able to live without him. To a point that he craves his presence and conversation— craves his orders, craves to obey.

Surely the Listener could see that he is in deep thought because of her and Banesteppe’s words, but finally he speaks.

“I see.” He says grimly. “Then I am to fall to his advances? I believe it is inevitable.” He sounds pessimistic, but really he sees no alternative options. “I am to be his slave to protect others?” He questions the small, dark pelted woman. “What am I to do?”