Bearclaw Valley et peccatum meum contra me est semper
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#1
backdated to when @Parousia was just two weeks old <3

the pup was clasped firmly in her jaws, pale, long thing of blue eyes and tongue. its purpose was clear now, its time had come. the witch of bearclaw valley carried it to the altar of the bear god.

it had grown unkept even while ursus endured. now she saw something small quickly leave it, disturbing the layer of dust upon it.

it was near the impassable mountain borders, stones forming a crescent moon around a large slab of granite. there were steps within the stone, so that a devotee might climb - as the weary dogmother now did, pup swaying - and access the altar in the middle.

the cult took its treasures with them when they left, so the spot now lookes barren and desecrated. the single upright stone was no longer graced by the powerful hipbone, and what little offerings arielle - for who else had the bear so close in their heart - had left, were long gone, taken by lesser creatures or the wind.

bernadette set parousia upon it.
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#2
parousia was a limp thing in her mother's mouth.

hardly able to fuss for the mere shock of this much travel. let alone this much touch. it would not be uncommon for her to find her mother pulling away or her siblings squirming too much to be near long.

eventually she was placed back down.

blurry blue eyes struggled against the bright light of the outside world, of the feeling of cool stone against her tiny paws. she wobbled, she flopped onto her belly, hunkered against the stone.

big, blue eyes turned to look to mother bear.

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
note: bjarna speaks broken english at best.
icelandic will be italicized with translations on hover/click.
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bernadette's gaze was affixed not to her child, but up, to where the waning moon hung in the heavens above.

it would be sunset soon, and she knew the bruin's hour was the hour preceding it. when prayer of a devotee should be most perceptible to such a survivalist spirit.

when conduits could be most easily entered.

bernadette steadied herself, took in a deep breath. 

dropped down and folded her legs.

begun to sing

rumbling, throaty.

she swayed gently with the depth of the melody, emptying her mind; of whinings of strange offspring, of aching in an empty gut, of helplessness and cosmic dread. 

all left her.

the song faded.

the witch slowly opened her eyes, to look up at the conduit.

"great bruin." she rumbled in a voice no longer sounding like her own, addressing not the maggotlike flesh vessel. "i've... stayed in your domain. studied... your chosen and devout. listened. observed. been considered... inadequate."

"and yet, only i stayed."

she unfurled her forelegs and placed her paws upon the base of the altar.

"reward me." shine in her pit-eyes. "speak, trough one marked by you. tell- tell me what i am to do?" with great eagerness  - almost hunger - she shuffled nearer the stone plinth, awaiting.
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#4
parousia did not know the great weight mother bear set upon her.

she only heard the rumbles of mother bear, alternating from tune to words. big blues blinked wildly as if some great realization had struck her. mother bear shuffled nearer, great paws on the stone.

parousia did not know that her bear mother sought answers.

she looked upon the dark form, not able to make out the details of it, only knowing such a figure as mother bear. she shuffled poorly closer and closer. raised a twig of a leg, paw reached to settle on the large face of mother bear.

parousia did not know the message she delivered.

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
note: bjarna speaks broken english at best.
icelandic will be italicized with translations on hover/click.
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hearing and sight strained, focused on the pale thing, expecting a great booming voice to pour past its child lips. her mouth was slightly agape, eyes glimmering with a hunger not satiable by any meat.

the conduit shuffled forward. the witch leaned in.

heart beating.

and it placed a single pallid limb on the bridge of her snout.

all was still.

bernadette blinked, eyes wide. she dared not move away, but as precious moments slipped past and nothing occured - not a feeling of some unexplainable energy pouring in trough where the paw made contact, no feeling of something manifesting there or therein, no joy, no pain, no ecstasy --

the bearwoman began to dread.

"i- i don't comprehend." she lightly shook her head, not enough to free it of the contact. "what- what... do you mean?"

bernadette leaned forward, so that she was face to face with it. the conduit. her offspring. 

(maggot-child)

expecting more, expecting something.
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#6
parousia heard more rumbles.

then they were face to face. and the parasite of mother bear leaned in too, nose to dark forehead. breathing in the scent and softly pushing aside fur. as if she might find herself in the very mind of mother bear.

she rumbled now, deep and grumbling. if the bear spoke through her, it did not know how to use the vessel properly. no trained vocal chords able to rumble speech, limbs too weak and willowy.

still she rumbled, still she remained pressed against the great head of mother bear.

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
note: bjarna speaks broken english at best.
icelandic will be italicized with translations on hover/click.
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her gaze had gone blank, staring past the pallid, wriggling shape.

(wormlike)

within, unrest.

there was entitlement.

all of ursus were small-minded. incapable. brutish. none as dedicated and learned as she. 

she'd earned the revelations of a true god. to bless or scar, but leave her with proof enough.

other was dread.

all she did, she'd done for long. and many had done so before. yet the only tangible things had to be studied, could be debated, seen by so many as mundane - godless.

what if the meaning in all things was that there was no meaning what if there was nothing beyond the base repulsive writhing of reality nothing that would make of it a paradise or wheel that would make the dog soul worth more than a h u m

down that path was madness.

the person crept back into her eyes, and bernadette looked at the thing before her very face, as if seeing it the first time.

what a rumble its little throat made.

foolish of her to expect more. the bear was a spirit. with the cult left, nobody tended to it, its meager power, which once so enthralled a great warlock, faded.

this could never have been a shattering of reality. so uneducated to guess at it.

she felt the conduit; how the bruin within mimed a canine, attempted to wield those underdeveloped articulators to speak with her.

but the message was there - not what she wished to hear, but there.

"i comprehend." bernadette whispered, gathering the conduit into her paws. slowly, she came to lie on her back, it on her chest.


the sky had turned red, orange and pink.
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#8
she was lifted, up up up.

then settled in the plush furs of mother bear. parousia did not have thoughts this deep, but there was an undeniable connection. perhaps the very first between the two. her mother accepting her company and parousia thriving for it.

it was vital. a core thing to the parasite babe.

for the very first time in a long time, parousia was entirely silent. no cries. no whimpers. not even the tiniest mewl.

she laid in the heart of the bear twice, today.

once on the stone slab.

twice on the chest of mother bear.

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
note: bjarna speaks broken english at best.
icelandic will be italicized with translations on hover/click.
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her eyes were transfixed to the heavens, so vivid. it felt as if the bear itself had presented her with the sight.

"dying thing." she whispered, without looking to the sunken-in conduit. "deathless, but dying."

"i see... the shape of things. someday, your priests will come. your faith unearthed, from layers of soil. but now you die."

even its kind weren't beyond it. a revelation to incorporate into her worldview. her plush paws reached for the vividness, as of to stir the sky like water.

"i comprehend." she repeated, like gently speaking to an elder. "i've your blessing. it is to me, to make use of it. a spirit wouldn't know mortal desires."

the paw lowered, bernadette raised her head and bent her neck, looking at the pale, possessed being. there was a kind smile on her muzzle.

"you may leave, great one. i unbind you."
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#10
a soft rumble, nothing more than a slumbering sound.

the depth of her mother's tones was enough for the child. enough for the spirit that lingered in this place. unbind, the great mother bear whispered to her cub.

it was all she needed to fall into a deep slumber. too overwhelmed by the events of today, still too weak to be awake very long at all.

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
note: bjarna speaks broken english at best.
icelandic will be italicized with translations on hover/click.
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she rested another moment, but that rare mood of hers was fleeting. no sooner did she leave the presence of a god that mortality set in anew.

the bearwoman rolled onto her paws, letting the again plain child roll off of her self. again, there was blank indifference in her hidden gaze.

she took the girl's sleeping self into maws once again devoid of gentle care. down the steps of the altar. over a field where sundown briefly washes the mother and child in red.

and into the woods again, to join her writhing mass of sisters in the hovel.
[Image: Cultist_Acolyte_Dead.png]