Sealed With Blood

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

Larkspur's adventuring had eventually drawn her to the cave her mother used to reside in. The more distanced the girl felt from others of her coven, the deeper into the cavern she would lose herself. Oh, but she had friends. Many a friend. Each of them were reminiscent of those she knew outside of her sacred space, carved in their image. It was here that she would always find them. It was here that she knew she could return to find them waiting for her. They would never leave.

Every once in a while she would surface...when she had the itch to check about the Blood Stone. She hated herself for holding out hope at all and for continuously returning on the days that they said they would. Every single time she would show up and every single time she was disappointed. It would drive her further underground to escape the way it tore at her heart. Today was, of course, no different. Larkspur paced back and forth and around the massive stone until she decided it was not worth anymore time. With a huff of a growl, she began to depart to head back towards her cave to slip into darkness.

@Tybalta

"The familiar taste of poison."

Tybalt Aetós

Tybalt had been back in the Fae Forest for only a few days, but he had been gone for much longer. His accidental foray into the Mainlands had been long and challenging. He had met one lady who had seemed nice, but was in fact not nice at all. He was relieved when he was back in the woods of the Highlands and away from the mad wolfess who had attempted to keep him forever as her servant.

Since his return, Tybalt had been searching for someone. The Girl’s face still lingered in his memories. He had made a promise that he couldn’t keep, and now, he just couldn’t find the sacred space again. But he kept looking for her. The boy didn’t even know her name, a fact he had realized only in hindsight when it was too late to ask. Even if he did find her, she would probably be very mad… and he deserved it.

The metallic scent of blood caught his focus, dark nostrils testing the breeze to determine where it was coming from. He veered sharply to the left, pace increasing until he found it: the sacred place. Her Blood Stone. And there she was, angry and scowling, but there all the same. The dark mask of Tybalt's facade lit up in an instant, the sadness and lonely feelings melting away after so many bleak days on end. He called out, in a voice deeper than before: ”Tá mé anseo.” - I’m here.



@Larkspur

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

A strange voice shook her from her brooding and had her pause mid-step. The sound of it was familiar and yet not. She turned her face towards the source and the sight of a tall, thin looking boy struck her in a way that caused her to almost stagger while she adjusted her stance to face him. Her expression was one of utter confusion...disbelief, even. There was only a brief moment of silence before Lark took a couple steps in his direction, lifting her nose to take in his scent at a distance, cautious of this untimely appearance. She blinked, the scent nearly the same as it had been before.

"Tybalt."

It was him...but, it wasn't. All the same, emotion drove her forward, kicking off the earth until she collided into him roughly. She attached herself to him, burying her face into the wild fur of his chest aggressively. The girl was clinging to him tightly, holding back those tears that she had locked away. Her voice was muffled against his thick mane as she spoke, "Cá raibh tú?! D'imigh tú! D'fhág tú mé, Tybalt! (1)"

@Tybalt

Translation:
1) "Where have you been?! You left! You left me, Tybalt!"

"The familiar taste of poison."

Tybalt Aetós

Tybalt expected fury from the fiery adolescent. Instead, her facade betrayed her shock as she took in the sight of him: taller than he had been at their last meeting, wiry and thin. Chubby cheeks were more drawn, hinting at the difficulty he had experienced in the passing weeks. In an instant, The Girl pounced away from the ground and toward him. Instinctively, the masked youth flinched, muscles growing taut beneath his tawny coat as he braced himself for the impending outrage.

Instead of sharpened fangs against his jugular, as he had unconsciously anticipated, he felt the unexpected warmth of the girl’s small form against his. Her face disappeared in the soft white fluff of his chest, and if she could have seen him in that moment, his expression was nothing short of astonishment. If there was one thing that Tybalt's life had always lacked, it was affection. Closeness. He stood firm as he felt her weight, the ragged breaths she exhaled. His cheeks grew warm with a fever that soon spread from his dark nose to his tail. This was a feeling he had never known before, and he leaned his snout down to almost touch the top of her head.

But then, she spoke. Tybalt could scarcely make out the words she uttered into his fur. His chest would heave with a deep sigh, ears folding backward toward his skull. Guilt shadowed his stunned facade. "Ní raibh sé i gceist agam.” I didn’t mean to. But he wasn’t certain she would believe him. His voice grew lower still, sadness in his once boisterous tones: "Ní raibh mé ag iarraidh.” I didn't want to.



@Larkspur

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

Suddenly, she remembered everything she had felt, because he had never returned as he had promised. It all came crashing down. Her distress...her sorrow...and her fury. Larkspur hardly heard what he was saying, kicking off of him and jumping backwards. Tears filled her eyes as she snarled up at the boy that was now far taller than she was, "Gheall tú! Gheall tú go dtiocfadh tú ar ais! (1)" The tears started to spill down her cheeks, fueled by rage that had brewed even well before Tybalt's existence in her life.

"Tháinig mé gach lá amháin nach raibh tú! D'fhan mé leat! Agus gach lá amháin, bhraith mé do bhriseadh gealltanas! Gortaíonn sé dom, Tybalt. Gortaíonn sé dom a fhios nach raibh i gceist agat focail rud ar bith! Sin rud ar bith i gceist agam duit! (2)" Oh, how she wanted to strike him...to go at his neck like she had when they had first played with one another. She wanted to rip him an shred him to bits like what he had done to her heart. But, looking at him...seeing the way he was now...she couldn't do it. So, instead...Larkspur chose to sharpen the blade of her silver tongue, readied to strike him through with her words. "Níl tú níos fearr ná an chuid eile acu. Is bréagadóir thú (3)!!"

@Tybalt

Translations
1) "You promised! You promised you would come back!"
2) "I came every single day that you did not! I waited for you! And every single day, I felt your promise break! It hurts me, Tybalt! It hurts me to know that you words meant nothing That I meant nothing to you!"
3) "You are no better than the rest of them! You're...a liar!"

"The familiar taste of poison."

Tybalt Aetós

Just as quickly as she had approached, The Girl now pulled away, and Tybalt’s shoulders dropped, disappointed that the closeness was gone so swiftly. Here came the outrage he had anticipated. Tears trailed down her soft cheeks, earning a bewildered look from Tybalt. He had seen many emotions in his almost-year of life: anger. Rage. Annoyance. But her display of visible distress was foreign, though the emotion beneath it was entirely familiar to the boy. But he had no idea what to do, so he stood motionless, awkwardly fumbling his paws.

He was silent as Lark seethed, the shame roiling in his gut, causing him to shrink away with every angry sentence. Sadness filled his emerald orbs, but he didn’t cry when he heard his name in her resentful tones. He deserved this, and much worse. She called him what he knew he was: a liar. And she would get no argument from Tybalt.

He stumbled over his words as he attempted to explain in their shared language: ”Chuaigh mé – bhí mé ar an Rionna. Na mac tíre - na cinn a bhfuil cónaí orthu síos ann – " (1) He couldn't bear to meet her sapphire glare as he spoke... His voice cracked awkwardly, and he cleared his throat, embarrassment etched on his features. He continued: ”Coinníodh mé ann. Oíche i ndiaidh oíche.” (2)

He felt tears welling in his eyes but bit back the emotion, having learned better than to express it. He wasn't a baby anymore. ”Shíl mé tú. Agus – bhí súil agam go raibh dearmad déanta agaibh – faoinár ngealltanas. Mar gheall orm.” (3) His head hung low, eyes downcast. Better to be forgotten than loathed. In a quieter voice, he uttered, "Ní raibh a fhios agam d'ainm." (4) ... She had never told him.


(1) I went – I was in Rionna. The wolves – the ones who live down there…
(2) I was kept there. Night after night.
(3) I thought of you. And – I hoped you had forgotten – about our promise. About me.
(4) I never knew your name.



@Larkspur

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

After hardly taking a breath in between words, she breathed a bit heavier, still seething where she stood. The tears had ceased now, the anger having cast out every last drop that she had to spare. There was silence. Tybalt hadn't tried to argue with her or denounce her claim. His paws, that now looked proportionate to his size, fumbled beneath him and he shrank away with every emphasized hiss of her tongue lashing. Within that perfect framing of dark fur around his face, two rounded, bright green eyes looked up at her forlornly.

It took him brief time to collect himself before he began to speak to her in the thick accented notes of their Mother language. Larkspur's ears were trained forward to listen intently, her eyes narrowing as she glared daggers through him. "Cad? Cén fáth in ifreann a raibh tú i Rionna? (1)" She cut in sharply, not understanding why he would have chosen to leave her for such a forsaken city. Her lip drew back slightly, clearly displeased by the choice she believed he'd made.

"Coinníodh mé ann. Oíche i ndiaidh oíche."

Lark's brows furrowed and she recoiled slightly with this new piece of information. The anger was replaced by bewilderment that the statement had caused and she stepped closer to him again, looking him up and down. "Cad atá i gceist agat? Cé? (2)" He did look...odd. Yes, he had been smaller and younger when they'd last seen each other and he had grown, but...he was...gaunt...thin looking...even within the darker features of her face, his eyes looked almost sunken in as well. "Tybalt, an ndearna duine éigin é seo duit? Cé? Cé a rinne é? (3)"

The spark of rage had returned, but this time it was not directed at him. It faded once again when he said he'd thought of her and that he had hoped she had forgotten about him. Larkspur's face contorted as she dealt internally with conflicting emotions. The urge to bite him had been long forgotten and instead she wanted to embrace him. But, he's a liar!! She did her best to remind herself, her paws fidgeting as she held herself back from him for the moment. "Cén fáth? Cén fáth a ndéanfainn dearmad fút? Cén fáth a mbeadh ag iarraidh orm dearmad a dhéanamh? Thugamar gealltanas! Agus tú féin-(4)"

Royal blue orbs grew wide and she stared at him for a period of silence, clearly overwhelmed and yet also stunned by a realization. She shook her head and averted her gaze, staring at the Bloodstone. "Tú...(5)"The shaking of her head continued slowly and eventually she slowly turned her gaze back onto him as she finally said it aloud, "Tháinig tú ar ais...(6)" There was a feeling of pressure inside of her chest...this crushing feeling...she felt...awful for yelling at Tybalt all of the sudden.

"Tar éis sin go léir ... tháinig tú ar ais...(7)" Was it...guilt that was gripping at her chest this way? And she thought, surely, that would be the worst of it...of course, until he shared with her that he did not know her name. The brunt of that remorse only spread throughout her body and she peered over at the Bloodstone again. "Huh? Ar ndóigh tá mo ainm ar eolas agat! Déanann tú! Bhí orm a bheith ráite agat! Caithfidh go raibh...mé...rinne mé...ceart? (8)"

She stared at the scenery, imagining those many months ago when they had met and when they played and when he had told her his name and...she couldn't recall uttering her own somehow. It was her error, not his...all of it caused feelings of shame to roll cross her flesh and she hated it. When she finally lifted her head, she lifted her chin in an attempt to reclaim her pride. "Larkspur. Is é mo ainm Larkspur. (9)"


Translations
(1) "What? Why in the hell were you in Rionna?"
(2)"What do you mean? Who?"
(3) "Tybalt, did someone do this to you? Who? Who did it?"
(4) "Why? Why would I forget about you? Why would you want me to forget? We made a promise! And you-!"
(5)"You..."
(6)"You came back..."
(7)"After all of that...you came back..."
(8) "Huh? Of course you know my name! You do! I had to have told you! I must have...I...I did...right?"
(9) "Larkspur. My name is Larkspur."


@Tybalt

"The familiar taste of poison."

Tybalt Aetós

She demanded to know who had hurt him, but Tybalt only shook his head with a frown, ears folded back against his skull. Despite her small size, she remained fiery. But there was no use in sharing the details of his imprisonment that would only make him sad all over again. He didn’t know how The Girl would respond, but he didn’t want her to feel more sad, either. Her magical blue eyes examined his unhealthy form, and his gaze averted to the darkened trees overhead, ashamed. His experiences in Rionna had only been a source of misery, with the exception of meeting his new friend, Savard.

Lingering silence followed. He stared into the trees even as The Girl began to speak again. "Tháinig tú ar ais…” He had returned, true to his word, if only a few months belatedly. Finally, his gaze fell to see her again, ears still pinned backward and a pained expression on his masked features. The boy couldn’t quite deduce what she was thinking – not because the emotions were absent, but because seemingly had so many at once. In a quieted voice, he responded: ”Dúirt mé go mbeadh. mar sin rinne mé.” – I said I would. So I did.

Again, Tybalt was quiet as she seemed to argue with herself about whether she had introduced herself properly or not all those months ago, when they were much smaller. Finally, she revealed her name to him. He had waited a long while to learn her moniker. Now, she would no longer have to be the mysterious Girl. ”Larkspur.” He spoke her name gently, with the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His tail even began to wag, if only a little bit. ”Go raibh maith agat as insint dom. N'fheadar an t-am seo ar fad.” – Thank you for telling me. I wondered all this time. Then, he summoned his courage to admit: ”Tá áthas orm go bhfuair mé thú.” - I’m glad that I found you.



@Larkspur

Wretched Gods
Divine Fools

“I said I would. So I did."

Tybalt spoke quietly and she turned her nose up for a moment, huffing as she momentarily returned to her bitter recollection of the hurt he had put her through. “Is dócha go ndearna tú, ach bhí tú fós déanach."(1)The girls nose wrinkled and she declared again, reminding herself that he had a good reason for not meeting her when he should have.

“Tá mé ag fanacht leat freisin a insint dom cé a rinne é seo ionas go mbeidh mé in ann iad a íoc..."(2) She reminded the boy, her lip peeling back slightly in the beginnings of a snarl as she thought about anyone trying to hurt the boy. He was undeserving of it, for certain.

Her ears quivered lightly as he spoke her name and she watched him begin to smile, a wag of his tail to accompany the brightening of his features. She narrowed her eyes, never seeing someone react so pleasantly to her name...part of her enjoyed that he liked it and part of her thought that the sound of her name should make the world cower and kneel at her feet.

Then he said that he was glad that he found her. Lark blinked and was silent, aside from giving an apprehensive nod. She eventually let out a sigh and moved to lean her head on the boy's chest, enjoying the way his heart pounded as though it were trying to escape his ribcage. “Tá áthas orm nach ndearna tú dearmad orm..."(3) She ended up reluctantly mumbling into his fur.

Translations
(1) “I suppose you did, but you were still late..."
(2) “I am also waiting for you to tell me who did this so that I can make them pay..."
(3) “I'm glad you didn't forget me..."


@Tybalt

"The familiar taste of poison."

Tybalt Aetós

Again, The Girl noted his tardiness. He made a soft hm sound in agreement. He couldn’t argue with the facts. ”Ach anois tá mé anseo, féach?” - But now I am here, see? He prodded his foreleg with a paw to demonstrate just how here he was with a toothy grin, hoping that he could make her smile again. He was there in flesh and blood.

Lark dwelled on the subject of his time in Rionna. Tybalt frowned. ”Ní bhfaighfeá í choíche.” Tybalt pointed out – You would never find her. A tremble ran through him…. He couldn’t think of that, he just couldn’t. Tears well in his eyes that he quickly willed away – a talent he was growing adept at. Crying was only for the weak and for babies. And Tybalt was neither of those things. He bit his lip hard to distract from the avalanche of troubles. ”Le do thoil nach dul ann….” He pleaded with a sincere verdant stare: Please never go there. His own lip curled unconsciously into a growl at thought of her attempting to cross the border and its evil Imperial guards, getting attacked or imprisoned or worse. And anger was a more acceptable emotion for him to feel than sad, or nothing at all.

The young witch didn’t smile, didn’t speak for a lingering second, tarnishing Tybalt’s smile as he began to wonder if she had grown sick of him yet. To his great surprise, she rested her head against his chest, which was probably not very comfortable now that he had missed a few too many meals. He wondered if she would notice, and a tinge of shame shadowed his excitement just to feel her so close now. A sigh escaped as he looked down at the top of her head, but having almost no experience with affection, he wasn’t sure what else to do. ”Is tusa an t-aon mac tíre maith atá ar eolas agam.” - You are the only good wolf that I know.



@Larkspur