Bearclaw Valley the clock of the time dragon

returned to the place of her birth, the thirdborn child of the bear and the raven found in its silence a new brand of madness. void; that which she had been fashioned from now crumbled her at the edges. there was nothing. so much nothing.

astara, dead. merrick, gone. she would never know what had become of her father, but neither would she forget that he had once called her night-pearl. until the day he betrayed her.

she'd loved him as wholly as she'd loathed his grinning bear-god.

as wholly as she'd loved her children, her first and true children. morgra. ptolemy. pelagius.

there was no love in her now. she had nothing but madness.

she paced.

@Germanicus @Aquillius

returned the eagle too, for he meant to ensure that the greenstock he had brought from the larders of mereo.

he meant to reassure himself they remained as a final intention for himself.

ears alert, nose filled with the sickening blaze of that damnable woman.

germanicus became one with the shadow and stole in breath-held steps to find her returned form.

In the shadow of his father he dogged, ever present behind the man now that he was ready to follow. He did not know his intention, but he knew to let him out of his sight was to allow the rankle of black magic to settle over him all over again.

Then, he saw her.

In the meadow, pacing like a caged animal. Dark as the void, those eyes that pierced his sleep, everything about her inspired such a twisted rage that Aquillius felt his diaphragm spasm with the breath he held.

You want that magic off you?

A talon past his eye, he couldn’t help but track it. Even if that eye was blind.

Even if he couldn’t see it, he could. Spiritual and see through. It pointed, it pointed at her.

All you have to do, is kill the source.

And some last chord of self restraint, already hanging on by its teeth, began to snap.

Aquillius breathed deep, and slipped into the shadow behind his father. But the eagleson paid him no mind, single gold eye laser fixed on the witch.

the sound of the end was quiet footfall at her back.

but she would never hear it.

the whispers of spirits came alive in the still air, and their brilliant silver mist danced around her. she followed, as she once had in puphood.

at the end of her path, the bear.

always the bear.

this will be my last, you both have my permission to powerplay her including any injuries she might cause to your characters! thank you <3

<333

he struck, and hard.

he recognized only belatedly that his son was there.

for kvarsheim, for swiftcurrent, for moss, for crowfeather.

for himself, scapegoat teeth tearing harsh.

her teeth scored his muzzle, split his lips, raked his chest.

but the eagle sought an absolution in her ripped throat.

kill her!

The screech of the hawk through his skull spurred him forward, ripping across the landscape like a living shadow. In his father’s steps, but curving, seeking, ever seeking.

He would find religion in the way his teeth curved through flesh, the way blood carved across his tongue, when he sought her sides. In the aftermath, he would realize he carried her mark in the rip of fangs across one of his ears, scoring him thrice there. But death was not far for the witch who cursed him so.

The eaglet crew great claws, and tore into the woman who had tormented his dreams, though it would be his father who killed her. And with every lash of teeth, he would rise closer and closer to a god he did not and would not ever know.

aquillius was terrible in his justice.

after a point, germanicus stood back to watch the dark son of his body mete it out to the witch.

she would not survive this. the ground was pooled with her blood.

it went on and on, until at last the eagle hoarsely said, "aquillius."

”Aquillius.”

Breaking the concentration, Aquillius finds himself bereft of the all consuming rage, and the strength that gave him.

He backs up, only briefly, to stare at the flesh of the witch, scored with his teeth in an act that would have reviled him this time the previous year. Hot blood bubbled from his nose, dripping down his snout to splatter his feet. His pupils were blown, he was shaking, he’d just taken the life of another and he wanted to do it again.

She died too quickly. Venom in his words, he couldn’t look at his father. He just stared down at the cooling corpse, hatred a bubbling cauldron in his chest.

"she died as she must die," germanicus corrected. "it is the gods who determine that."

still, he set about cutting the joints of the body. if she was a witch, he had learned this would tie her spirit to one place, unable to move into another host.

"we will take her head."