Ravensblood Forest at the body shop [ part ii ]

with @Ash Paw close behind them, they make their way to the small den they had carved out to hold their threadbones. relief twists tightly with tension the closer the pair draw; a low throb in the base of their skull, a feeling that is both euphoria and dread. it is familiar, these warring feelings. they are constant companions when the dreadfather goes to their bones, present also when they deign to pluck apart threads in attempt to discern what they mean.

their steps slow when they approach the small den; shoving their head within the grasp the rabbit fur the bones were cradled in. there was one gifted to them by the one whose name they do not know ...but that remains within the den. it was not needed for this reading.

they set the fur down and watch, hungrily, as the bones scatter; breaking their concentration upon them briefly to peer at ash paw.

sometimes they require a question or a presence. today, they call to me.

the dreadfather's attention is drawn back immediately to the bones, like a moth to a flame.

Ash Paw followed behind him, tiny paw steps in his large ones. She felt exceptionally small as they walked, the looming trees, and the large strides he took. There was a fervor to him she didn't recognize, and she briefly wondered if she should have followed him. Though she quickly pushed it aside. Again believing in her gods and goddesses that if it were her time then it was.

There is a tiny den dug upon the ground and he reaches to grasp whatever is inside. She moved a little closer to look, all she seeing is the threadbare fur of rabbit, though it looked well taken care of.

Though she takes a paw step back as the bones are spilled and scattered on the skin. She stares at them, wondering how he can see something in the way they lay? IS it that or is there some divine spirit speaking ot his ears only. She wasn't certain.

Body silent, watchful. She waits. Wondering, yearning to know a bit of what he is doing. Would this work with Atka and Sos, is it even part of worship or is it more of something different?

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: not super mature but just to be safe trigger warning there is disassociation in this post & some gore.

the threadbones are demanding; a commanding presence that gives the dreadfather a small shiver that slithers down their spine. they threadbones are loud ...which signifies to them that there is power to this bleeding forest. surprise and something akin to joy settle into their bones: they had not expected to feel the thrum of the void in this place but there are many territories with many secrets and the dreadfather plans to unravel them all. to collect them. secrets are power and it was safe to say that it was one of the ( several ) things they are drawn to.

first, the dreadfather traces how the threadbones have fallen; seaglass eyes picking shapes and meanings from them as a stargazer might pick such things from constellations.

to the dreadfather this is second nature. easy and effortless like breathing.

the longer they stare, the easier it is to disassociate.

it happens gradually, until the world around them disappear and it is just them and the threadbones. the presence of ash paw is felt like a small, thin tether to the physical realm but they are relieved that they can easily ignore it.

there are flashes of potential futures, of potential paths but they are disappointingly too smoky to grasp. the fog refuses to lift to give them clarity. the void welcomes them in their wakened dream state and they are tempted to give into it. they have missed it. the whispers become a hum and they try to discern what they speak.

a bloodied crown of teeth and bones twisted sitting atop the crown of a wolf that looks like the dreadfather themselves. blood drips from their scarred muzzle. a hunger for taking. a yearning for power; unquenchable. to be more and the lack of moral grounds to keep them from using whatever means necessary.

it does not bode well for them, they realize. but they are unburdened by this vision, tempting fate to follow it further. to see what else they could force from the fog.

but the mortal realm tether of ash paws' presence yanks them back; back to their mortal body with a sharp gasp of breath, unaware they had even been holding it. their blink their seaglass gaze at her, turning their body away from the threadbones abruptly.

Ash Paw stood silent, azure eyes tracing over the strange bones and the Dreadfather himself. He seems to start whatever it is he is doing with a shake of his body. She wonders if he has partaken in some sort of mushroom or fungus. She looks around briefly, there are some here in this forest. She knows that fact intimately, her auntie's own husband had partaken and the pieces left had been regrown.

The eyes of ocean zoomed across the bones and Ash Paw wondered what he was seeing. A small bit of disappointment settles on her, when he doesn't tell her what he's seeing, but perhaps this is a not a reading she is privy too. She knows some seers are incredibly strange about their readings and only tell others when it is relevant to them personally.

A small sliver of fear works it's way into her chest as the large imposing male before her, begins to space completely out. He stands motionless and silent. Eerily so. Not even breathing. Ash Paw shifted, her tail quietly tucked against her leg, though not completely under her belly.

Most of her unease comes from the fact that she does not know what will happen when he returns to the present. And with a sharp gasp of air, that she too let's lose with a sharp inhale of surprise. He looks at her with those sea foam eyes and she freezes unsure what to say.

Did you find what you sought? She asked him benignly. Afraid that if she asks more pointed questions he maybe moved to violence of some sort.

they are hesitant to share what they saw for it spells only two feesible outcome: usurping. for the carving of something new through violence. spilled blood. they crave it; unabashedly. they only hesitate now because their position is so new; where and why this takes place ( beyond their own desires ) is still a large unknown.

i saw bloodied teeth and slavering scarred jaws, their own. a bloodsoaked crown of teeth upon the brow. a king. a god. not exactly an answer to ash paw's question, they know. but they are wily and crafty and like all good seers they know how to word their visions vaguely, despite that they know it's true meaning.

victory and battle and sacrifice. because there as never a victory without sacrifice, someone had to sacrifice something whether it was the warring or the unsuspecting. perhaps. they speak then, finally giving an answer to her question.

He didn't speak at first. Clearly weighing his options. Though she couldn't blame him not really. He had said they were calling to him. So it must be a very personal message. Though she was pleasantly surprised as he began to speak, though she wasn't certain if what he said was true, but who was she to judge. It was his vision. His bones. She was just an onlooker, a witness. 

Ash Paw felt a cold shudder slide along her body. As if someone reached beyond a grave and dug into her. This, this message was one of foreboding and violence, and though she was not entirely against violence for the correct reasons. She also saw no point in senseless violence, usually. Though she had found her own wells of fortitude tested, just recently when she had met the individual in front of her. So wasn't anyone capable of such violence.

Ash Paw didn't say anything at first. As she digest all of this. She wasn't certain what it meant and a part of her almost felt ill at the prospect of what could happen.

That all sounds quite foreboding. 

She shivered and looked around. I must sacrifice more to my gods. If there is to be a reckoning. Yes. She looked around and began to weave towards one of her caches.

I have enough herbs to last for myself and to share some with them, and I can hunt some rabbits.

that it centers 'round them simply makes it all the more foreboding than ash paw knows — though that is by the dreadfather's own design. they weave their crimson and golden threads: of fate and prophecy, of what could be. perhaps even of what would be.

she speaks of sacrificing and another trill runs thru them; a delight. a hunger. they require blood and death, a gift to the godly soul that lingers in this flesh and bone prison. during the next new moon i will make a sacrifice. they murmur in response; tagging onto her own words, though they do not specify what they would be sacrificing.

perhaps, they think, it would be better to perform it upon the islands where prying eyes cannot see and loose lips cannot prattle.

for a wayward moment, they are lost in their thoughts before with a slow blink, their focus zeroes back upon ash paw. what sort of sacrifices do your gods require? they are not keen on believing in any sort of gods aside from themselves and their kin, the other daedric princes, but they find themselves amused by the fervor in which she speaks of her ...what had she called them? ... atka and sos.

Ash Paw had not had much moments with seers and prophesiers. Mostly because she had not known of them. Her grandmother had used to tell her of one, a pale white beast always covered in gore and  darkness. Who despite his clear proclivities always treated grandma well. But she could not remember his name.

Ash paw turns to study him. This is a month of many sacrifices, Sos will return and consume all in his path if his needs are not met. It is foreboding to talk of a stirring and a reckoning when he is returning. I will need many.

She grew quiet again, thinking of what to do, they would need so many things. This would be a month of gathering prey and herbs anyway. She would just need to add more to it.

Ash Paw looked to him. Different kinds. More of one over the other depending upon which god you follow. Herbal sacrifices, prey sacrifices and other blood sacrifices. This is the month of the crow moon or the blood moon.

there are ties of familiarity that make themselves known to ingram as ash paw tells them about her sos: how this deity is utter chaos and destruction. a small twitch of their ear is given, a quiet contemplative noise lingering within the strong column of their throat. still, it was not enough for ingram to be willing to loosen their resolve that the only true gods were the daedra; but at least they weren't as vocal about it as they'd once been to her.

do you follow sos then? they inquire, eyes skimming over her in quiet contemplation. she did not immediately strike them as the type to worship a god of such carnage and destruction but ...then again, not everything was what met the eye.

She studied him with blue eyes. You remind me of Sos. You would be a fitting vessel for them, were you to believe in such a religion. Though I realize you believe in something quite different. The Daedra is it?

He had explained it to her, and she grasped most of it. It still was confusing, and she imagined there was much to it.

Ash Paw met his gaze again and looked to the ground, her own gaze turbulent and unsure. I do not follow either one yet.

She hummed in her chest for a moment as she thought of the words. Simply a shanty she had heard once adn then shook her head.

I do not know myself enough yet to choose one or the other. The simple fact is that I was very sheltered. You were the first wolf outside of my familial unit that I had met, unless they came to our borders for healing. And I realize that I know not what path awaits me or whom i shall follow.. Atka is the great bear goddess of life, purity etc, Sos of death, chaos. I feel that for any good, fulfilled life you need balance of both dark and light. Otherwise the scales would tip and not end in your favor.

a soft noise of confirmation is given; soft surprise that betrays the fact that they are minutely
impressed with the twitch of their lips. and though they do not believe in religious meldings, they think that there might be a small chance that gods are one in the same. different cultures simply held different names for them.

still, they are — perhaps strangely — flattered.

though likely it stems directly from the (un)intentional feeding of their complex and ego.

it depends on your version of 'balanced'. ingram supplies. i feel perfectly balanced where in the greyscale i linger. though they would not consider themselves evil necessarily they definitely lingered more in the darker grey areas ...and even then: so long as their actions aligned with their own brand of justice they would never consider themselves evil. it's merely a game of personal perception.

Ash Paw heard his noise of confirmation. But lost in her own thoughts she didn't fully key in to him at that precise moment.

Ash paw looked at him again a soft hum as she worked through his words.

Without light there is no darkness and vice versa. They need the two to exist otherwise they would simply just be. No key difference.

Ash Paw nodded. I tend to tip towards grey more than my auntie and my father, definitely more than my grandmother who was just good in all things. But she was good because she had seen the darkness.

Ash Paw was lost in thought. Yes that makes sense and reality colors your perceptions.

words left unspoken spiderweb themselves 'round ingram's mind; snaking up their throat but kept at bay. ash paw's ideas of balance sounds sickeningly, sweetly ...romantic: that balance exists. perhaps it did. perhaps it did not. regardless, it was not something the dreadfather deigned to concern themselves with.

a twitch of their scarred lips is given.

their attention wavers from their companion and flickers back to their threadbones. a soft nudge is given to praimfaya's ribbone; marred with teeth marks made like runes cut into stone. to any third party observer: they are just that: teeth marks.

to ingram, they spell out a story. threads of futures and pasts.

a beat follows before they gather their bones back up on the fur and replace them back in the small borrow, nudging them towards the back alongside the goat's skull.

i will return to the borders. i must process what i've seen and what it means. a honeyed lie slips from betwixt their lips; desire to linger in solitude taking hold of them now.

Ash Paw wasn't certain, but it seemed there was something missing from the thread of speech that had wound from the dreadfather's lips, but she couldn't touch on it, and she imagined it was a type of paranoia that someone was hiding something from her. So she dismissed it.

His gaze returned to the bones at his feet and ceased to exist. She realized then that this was his worship and it was time to make her exit. Because it was unfair to tarry when he did not want nor need company. Perhaps he had in the start, but her time was up now.

She met his gaze adn dipped her own blue eyes back to his hiding place and then him and gave one brief nod. 

I hope you get the answers you seek.

Then with a small timid smile, she turned and was gone. Tawny and black fur tearing up the ground. one sooty paw prominent against the dapple of her fur. She would leave him be, and she would hunt for the sacrifices she was not certain she needed more of.