[ P ] Lost Girl

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

The Bloodstone loomed ahead of her this day as Lark made her approach, her stomach clenching as she braced herself for disappointment. Two times now. Two. Tybalt had failed to return as he had promised. The first time, she passed it off that perhaps he had gotten caught up in something. Surely he would be there the next time. Once more, he had left her alone. And she had waited until after Dusk, hoping that he would have just been late. After that, she decided she would give him one last chance. If he did this again, she would write him off as a liar…someone who went against their word and like everyone else, someone who did not stay.

Lark did her very best to dampen any glimmer of hope in her little heart as she came up on the old boulder she had painted. Their meeting spot. She circled the stone, eyeing it and then peering around to locate any signs of the boy that belonged to her. She seated herself, chin lifted high as she began her waiting pattern. Not long after she settled, there was a rustling in the undergrowth ahead and she immediately got to her feet. She was ready to greet Tybalt when a chipmunk hopped out of the bushes, before darting back into a tree hollow.

The upset pup clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth together as she felt hot tears spring to the corners of her eyes. “Tá tú díreach cosúil le gach duine eile...” [“You're just like everyone else..."] She snarled, turning on the tall boulder and rearing up to slash her claws at it, shrieking with fury. After a time, her movements slowed, having exhausted herself. She stood there panting, glaring at the dried bloody face of the rock that now had claw marks added to it. Lark glared at it harshly before she collapsed into the ground in a heaping, sobbing mess.

@Datura

"The familiar taste of poison."

The screams of a banshee sent a chill up her spine. Datura froze in place where she had been standing alone, the pale fur along her nape standing on end. The night was frigid, the kind of cold you felt deep in your bones. The shrieks that caught her attention were more frightening than the endless winter that Mother Rhiannon had promised. Datura had been brought up to believe that magic was everywhere – creatures from lore were very much real, from the Fae of the forest to the agonizing cries of a banshee.

All of her instincts instructed Datura to run. But her paws remained still as her thoughts ran rampant. If it was a banshee, shouldn’t she go see what one actually looked like? The thought was terrifying to her core, but wouldn’t Mother Rhiannon be pleased? And so, against her better judgment, the ivory-hued girl moved slowly. A jumble of rocks rested before her, and a familiar smell lingered there.

No, it was not a banshee she had overheard.

It was something arguably worse: Larkspur.

The daughter of the night had never been kind to Datura – on the contrary, their interactions had always ended in cruelty, and Datura had made a point of avoiding the other child. But how she found Larkspur now… It was very different than she had ever seen before. The wild girl favored by Rhiannon was collapsed in a heap of emotions, her sobs echoing against the massive rock before her.

Now was her chance to leave, and she nearly did. But something kept Datura there, an aching in her heart. She, too, has known this sadness, and the depths of Larkspur’s sorrow stirred her gentle heart. She inched closer to the weeping girl. Tentatively, a diminutive paw reached out in an attempt to touch Larkspur’s shoulder, though Datura anticipated that her kindly gesture would be deflected the moment the other girl looked up – or worse. Lark had always been so unpredictable.



@Larkspur

coding: gutz

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

Lark nestled her face beneath beneath her paws, everyone once in a while swiping at her face to try to make the tears stop. She didn't understand why they were flowing so endlessly and why there was such a pain in her chest. Never did she want to feel like this again.

A soft prodding against her shoulder shook her from her weeping and she sat up instantly, trying to blink tears away. “T-Tybalt?" He was here, he had to be! She lifted a paw to wipe the moisture from her face so that she could see. When it cleared, she saw that it wasn't him.

Her expression twisted from hopeful into one of horrified fury when she recognized mousey Datura. Her crying persisted and she whipped herself around, facing away from the tiny pup. “Go away!" Lark hissed, disappointment crushing her again, though she hated that the other little girl had to see it.

@Datura

"The familiar taste of poison."

“T-Tybalt?” Datura had never heard this name before. The other girl looked up hopefully, her face covered in tears, only to find disappointment: Datura. The pain that Larkspur was in the throes of was heart wrenching to witness. Even someone as mean as Lark, who had been bullying Datura for as long as she could remember, didn’t deserve the depths of the sorrow that the other girl was now trying desperately to hide. But Datura had already seen the shambles that Tybalt – whoever that was – had left Larkspur in. Perhaps it was a spirit she had anticipated, or a friend, though it was difficult for Datura to imagine that a cruel pup like Lark would have a whole host of willing companions. It was hard for her to imagine Lark as anything but sadistic and cold.

Lark’s display of sorrow was entirely new; Datura didn’t know she was capable of this, and the unexpected scene she had happened upon left Datura uneasy. Still, she remained where she stood, even when the other pup demanded that she go away. Datura’s expression was one of shared sadness. She knew what it was like to cry alone in the night, even if it was for different reasons.

With a rare air of defiance, her jaw clenched, and she responded in a low voice: ”No.” She took two steps backward, but she didn’t run away like she would have before. Datura felt compelled to stay, to give comfort, even if she was the other’s enemy. ”You need me. And I need you.” The smile she gave was tense, but genuine, and she asked in gentle tones: ”Why so sad?”



@Larkspur

coding: gutz

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

“No."

Larkspur was too overcome with her own emotions to truly process the fact that that girl, that mousey little Datura, had defied her command. Had it been at any other time she might have snapped her dagger-like fangs barely a hair's distance from the girl's face. How dare she! What followed next was what shook her from this awful crying spell.

“What are you on about?" Lark lifted her head, turning to peer over at Datura through blurred vision. “I don't need you! I don't need anyone!" She barked, attempting to build up her defenses, a growing, coiling wall of gnarled thorns. If Tybalt hurt her in this way, how could she put faith into anyone, least of all Datura after the way she had tormented the tiny pup.

The other child poked and prodded at those walls of Lark's asking her questions that she did not know how to answer herself. “They leave. They always leave and never come back." Her voice quieted to a dangerous tone, continuing to curl into herself as she exhaled a mixture of sniffles and growls.

@Daturs

"The familiar taste of poison."

It worked. Larkspur was pulled away from her overwhelming emotions by Datura’s show of empathy, sadness replaced temporarily by anger. Larkspur insisted: “I don't need you! I don't need anyone!" But of course, Datura didn’t believe it – and not just because Mother Rhiannon had been insistent their entire lives that they relied on one another in their coven. The sympathetic frown did not tarnish from her features.

“They leave. They always leave and never come back." The pale child processed her words, trying to find the significance within them. Datura didn’t remember Larkspur’s mother, but had heard bitter tales from Rhiannon about the traitorous woman who had left the coven, and her children, behind. Her voice remained gentle and kind: ”I haven’t left.” A gentle challenge, and so unlike Datura. Larkspur looked like little more than a lost, lonely child, crying and growling in tandem.

Still, Datura remained where she stood, close beside the girl who had always been so mean. But Datura had never guessed that the other girl was lonely, like she was. Lark pushed everyone away, whether she meant to or not… Was it intentional? Datura was beginning to understand. This was a hurt deeper than words could express, and Datura’s heart felt heavy with sadness for the youth.


@Larkspur

coding: gutz

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

Datura would leave. Surely, as a mouse, Lark would have frightened her into running away. Then she could be with herself and this horrible pain that hardly hurt her physically and yet it was somehow worse. The wildling girl wrestled with ever facet of these emotions, but did her best to shield them from any prying eyes. Is this what those little animals felt like when I tore their limbs from them? She had to wonder as this dark and unexplainable void ate away at her innocence.

Larkspur was shocked to hear Datura speak, having thought she was long gone by now. She raised her head, her expression one of utter confusion, with a twinge of anger at her brow, yet her eyes shimmered with fear. But, of what? Judgement? That the tiny runt would go and tell of her weakness to the others? Or was it the fear of the storm that wreaked havoc within her mind?

“I haven't left."

The insolent brat...she challenged Lark as if the daughter of the coven's beloved Heretic had any energy to retaliate. Her lips peeled back in a show of her fangs, but even then she struggled and faltered. “Why?!" Lark growled, shaking her head as tears continued to flow. “Why are you even here?" She could not understand it. As horrible as she was to the girl, she refused to leave.

@Datura

"The familiar taste of poison."

Mother Rhiannon was never truly far away. This Forest was her domain, and the coven that dwelled there, her family, were always near. In the night, the enchantress roamed their wooded home, often alone or with Nimue beside her. Tonight she walked in solitude, thoughts roiling within her imagination. The children were scarcely children now. How swiftly they grow…

The sound of weeping caused her ears to perk, seamlessly switching directions to find the source of the sadness. Soon, she found an unexpected pair. Before her, an unanticipated scene: Larkspur was in tears, angry like a wounded animal, while little Datura stood beside her, wholly unafraid. Rhiannon was well aware of the dynamic that played out between the two; she had decided it was good for them to allow their relationship to play out as the Goddess saw fit. Larkspur was tiny, but had exuded an energy unlike the other children. Rhiannon had always seen her potential, while Datura had still yet to show true talent in the way that the others demonstrated.

A concerned frown crossed Rhiannon's muzzle as the storm-clad priestess emerged from the treeline to approach her two girls. The youngest Sisters. The future of their family. Datura saw Mother Rhiannon first, and her orange eyes widened with alarm. But Mother's focus was on Lark, and she stopped just in front of the distressed child. ”My dear Larkspur. What troubles you?” She spared Datura a glance; the pale girl was silent as a grave, taking a few steps backward and away from Larkspur.



@Larkspur

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

Why?! Larkspur's mind screamed at her over and over again. A question she would never get the answer to as the sound of parting underbrush and approaching pawsteps stole her attention. She whipped her head around to find Mother Rhiannon approaching. Fuck... How long had she been watching them? What had she heard? Lark was quick to lift herself up, rolling her shoulders back. She wiped the back of her wrist across her nose and cut the sniffling and tears off like a switch. “Nothing troubles me, Mother Rhiannon. Not anymore. A moth to flame. Ashes to ashes."

It was not necessarily a lie. In the presence of the Coven's Matriarch, she would take every ounce of what she had just been feeling and bury it as deep as it would go so that it no longer mattered. There was no use over crying about things that would never change anyway. Vibrant royal blue eyes stared into hues of an all-knowing purple, holding the older woman's gaze for as long as she dared. Then she cut a look over at Datura, daring her to speak a word out of line from what she'd said.

@Rhiannon

"The familiar taste of poison."

“Nothing troubles me, Mother Rhiannon. Not anymore. A moth to flame. Ashes to ashes.” The priestess nodded slowly. She didn’t believe Larkspur, nor was her act to seem alright convincing. Rhiannon had known the pup her entire life, after all. Rhiannon had been there the day that Lark and her brothers were born beneath the fury of a raging storm… And how disappointed she had been to learn that Yvaine had birthed two males, and only one girl: Larkspur. A reminder of the Banduri woman who had abandoned them all.

Datura seemed to shrink under Lark’s harsh stare and the pale girl didn’t dare to speak – she wouldn’t have done that to Larkspur, nor did she possess the courage to speak. Datura wished she could simply vanish into thin air and avoid both of them and the conversation unfolding.

Rhiannon’s voice was soothing as she addressed Lark again. ”Now now, my dear child. You need not suffer alone.” Her words were spoken with the affection of a mother, but she did not draw nearer to offer physical comfort or affection She had never been the cuddly type (with the exception of Nimue, of course). ”Your coven is here for you. We are part of each other.” She cast a look at Datura, offering a smile to the silent girl. Her focus returned to Larkspur. ”No matter what should happen. No matter the cost. We are a family. We must stay together. Now, I shall ask again... What troubles you?"



@Larkspur

art & code by alexandre