[ P ] Little Victory

"yes, i do." It was strange in that moment, a feeling she had never had before: competence. Someone who believed in her. Someone who wanted to listen to her, who seemed eager to be close and to learn what she had to give. A tumult of emotions rushed through her – shame and curiosity and expectation, and her sunset gaze roamed restlessly from his dark features to the darkness that surrounded him.

He asked, "is there a remedy?" The girl paused to consider his question, searching her memory for an answer. But to her recollection, most of these were without cures. She offered thoughtfully: ”Well... Not that I know of, no antidote to hemlock. Best bet is to not consume it to begin with,” she offered with a soft chuckle – it wasn’t much of a joke, but it was more than she had attempted before, as she eased into a sort of comfort talking to the obsidian lad.

”And this one is how I got my name.” There was something akin to pride on her visage as she indicated a delicate-looking white flower with a dainty paw. It had silken petals that spread out like an intricate star. It was dry and fragile, but that was not why Datura didn’t dare to touch it. ”All of it is toxic. Seeds, blossoms, all of it. It doesn’t poison the same as hemlock,” she explained. ”It looks innocent, doesn't it? But it will give someone a deeply unpleasant night. They will have bad visions. Demons and devils and blood – not good. Essentially, it leads to madness.” A hint of mischief lurked behind her eyes as she sought the twin abysses that were Anwyn’s eyes. ”Hallucinations that can last a long time. Give enough, and they will be gone, could be days, could be always. And if they come back? They’ll be changed. Can’t be the same once you’ve seen all that, you know?”

Mother Rhiannon had told little Datura stories about her younger years where she had poisoned more than a few disgusting males who attempted to court the enchantress – much to their regret, as Rhiannon enjoyed to watch them descend into the chaos of terror that followed the ingestion of Datura. It looked innocent, but it was capable of inflicting insanity itself. Datura wasn’t certain when she would need her namesake plant, but she kept it just the same – just in case.

”Anwyn,” she began, but she hesitated as topaz gems dropped once more to her precious collection. It felt strange just to say his name – in part because Rhiannon wouldn’t approve, and because she didn’t know how he would react. But she wanted to show that she was at least a little different from the rest of the Sisters. She had been rejected before, and it was hard to imagine what it must be like for Anwyn and Sumac in their female-dominated group. ”I– I hope I can help you. I know no one else does.” She peered at him cautiously again, worried that her words would upset him.



@Anwyn

coding: gutz

Circumstance turned Anwyn into an excellent student. What he had learned over his short life, he had learned by picking up each and every morsel that dropped in the wake of the females in his coven. So as Datura spoke, he absorbed every word like a sponge. Occasionally he would not, his dark eyes trained on the box of deadly plants. Only when she mentioned the flower she was named after did he lift his stare long enough to meet hers. Pride kissed the edges of her expression, though it was shy, almost reluctant to linger too long. She was different from the other females, she was softer, kinder. Some might even say weaker.

But perhaps not unlike this flower, behind that innocent fade, lay a monster. He tipped his head just ever so slightly, the motion speculative. Only time would tell if she had what it took to survive here, to thrive under Rhiannon.

When she said his name dark ears pressed forward. It softened the harsh lines of his cool expression, it gave him a more boyish charm. It wasn't often that he heard his name, especially spoken so tentatively, as if she weren't sure she should use. Like Rhiannon might appear from the shadows and punish her. Much to his surprise, he found he rather enjoyed it. He nearly asked her to say it again. Instead, he was floored by what she said next. The normally seemingly aloof boy looked every bit as shocked as he was. His eyes widened slightly and his jaws popped open in a silent 'o'.

I– I hope I can help you. I know no one else does.

Those words were forever branched into his psyche, etched into his dark skin. A tentative warmth made his black eyes more inviting, softening the harsh color. He didn't know what to say. So he offered he what little he could. "I'll try to keep Lark from bothering you." The promise was softly spoken, but it was no less a vow than if he had shouted it. It was all he could offer her for her kind words, for her agreeing to teach him, for risking her own hide for him.speak like this.

table ; bunny

Barely perceptible was the change.
Many others may have missed it entirely. But Datura was a creature accustomed to listening rather than speaking, to seeing rather than being seen. There was a subtle difference in the unnatural obsidian sights of the boy as she spoke, something softer. It was a curious surprise. There was so much to learn about Anwyn, the child of shadows and night. Her fear had melted into a budding interest. Normally, any sort of attention made her shrink away, but it was nice to have someone who listened so attentively. Datura was hardly an expert when it came to herbs, but she would happily share what she knew. And perhaps they would be able to work together someday… At least, if Mother Rhiannon never knew.

There was a lingering silence, then his vocals offered an unanticipated response: "i'll try to keep lark from bothering you." Datura’s face surely registered her surprise. She didn’t know if such a thing was possible, but it seemed that if anyone had a chance at warding off the wild girl, it was her dark brother. Anwyn was one who Datura never expected to have a conversation with, much less an interaction like this – one that would occupy her thoughts for some time as she attempted to make sense of it all. She had made a concerted effort to avoid him for as long as she could remember.

He isn’t at all like Mother Rhiannon makes him out to be…

”Thank –” But the words were stolen from her maw when an unexpected sound from above caused her to start. Overhead, the darkest black circled in the sky. A shiver ran up her spine at the realization: Mother Rhiannon was looking for her. ”Anwyn, I –” The brash caws of the enormous black bird interrupted her sentiment. Her heart raced with the fear of getting caught talking to him – no, she couldn’t risk it, no matter how much she wished she could stay there with him.

Datura began to rush away, but she stopped beside the fallen sheep to address Anwyn a final time. ”I wouldn’t eat it,” she warned, with the hint of a smile. ”Chance is, it won’t kill you. But you neveh know.” Her words were long a song as she cast a final look in his direction before turning again to leave him behind with the dead animals Perhaps the poison hadn’t worked its way through the corpse, but it was still a risk to consume it without poisoning yourself, as well.

She would still be smiling when Rhiannon found her, but Datura wouldn't reveal her secret encounter, nor the unfamiliar sense of happiness she felt in its wake.


[exit Datura]



@Anwyn

coding: gutz

Surprise spread across her milky features, unabashed in its unexpectedness. Clearly she had not expected such a declaration from him. If only she knew the gravity of such a promise. Lark was a dog with a bone, once her attention was settled on something, it was damn near impossible to shake her. Anwyn would suffer for this choice of his. His sisters teeth would rake against his skin and her ridicule would ring in his ears. But his punishment would not be without reward.

Thanks started to fall from her lips when a caw from above would draw both their attentions. He didn't have to look up to know it was Rhiannon's bird. A pesky creature. Datura's reaction to it was visible to the outcasted boy - the shiver that raced up her spine, the way her features tightened with stress. Dark ears tipped forward, curious, but he said nothing. Anwyn, I-... Whatever she had to say, he would never know because she was running off.

Obsidian eyes watched her until she disappeared amongst the shadows and trees. But just before she vanished, she stopped beside her kill, her warning delivered with a shy smile. Don't eat it. A ghost of a smile would tip up one corner of his mouth. Silent as ever, he said nothing to her caution, though he had no intentions of eating the carcass. Better to be safe than sorry. Not to mention it was unlikely that resources would be wasted on saving his life.

Anwyn lingered there for a bit longer, examining the dead animal without touching it too much. When he couldn't find nothing outwardly wrong with the animal, he would abandon it, instead setting off to search for some of the plants he had learned today.

For the first time, perhaps ever, the day wasn't just a blur, it wasn't one of many days that were so similar he could hardly distinguish them. Now he had something to do, something new to learn and someone to teach him. Never in a million years would he have expected befriending the shy girl Rhiannon had brought into their coven, but she didn't see so bad now.

exitspeak like this.

table ; bunny