[ P ] Finders

Pitch black. The moon, the night’s guardian and guiding light, was absent from the abysmal skies. Heavy clouds hung low in the darkness, obscuring even the comforting sparks of far-away stars. A lone wolfess, small in stature, not yet an adult but scarcely still a child, lingered in the inky blackness, amber eyes wide, fearful. The snow was freshly fallen, enough to hide her paws beneath the frozen white. Winter felt endless. And that was why this task was so important. There in the deepest twilight, she sought the first victim of her coven’s ritualistic sacrifice. This chosen one that would appease the wrath of the Feminine Divine.

Datura had been given arguably one of the most difficult and stress-inducing missions by Mother Rhiannon. She was to find a target, unwitting, ignorant, foolish, and most importantly, male. The pale yearling had been busy in the search for her target. Rhiannon had been very clear: no children, thank the Goddess. Datura had spent anxious days and nights thinking, considering ways to accomplish the task before her. She was too young and too shy to play coy with males, the way Mother Rhiannon did when she had poisoned her own victims.

Ultimately, Datura decided on a tactic: she began to cry in hopes of drawing the attention of a passerby, deep sobs that penetrated the utter silence. The emotion was not hard to conjure up. Perhaps under different circumstances, it would have been cathartic to allow herself the expression of grief and despair that she hid away from the world.

It mattered not whether it was some unfortunate brute taking pity on her, or one attempting to take advantage. Whether he had good intentions or was malicious, he would be the right one, sent by the Feminine Divine for this purpose. Datura just had to believe that the target was out there. Everyone was counting on her to succeed, and the night would pass by swiftly. This would be her only chance to prove her worth to the coven who awaited her return.

Her crying grew quieter as the sound of crunching snow beneath unseen paws caught her attention. Twin ears swiveled in the direction of the noise, equal parts hopeful and horrified. Was it the chosen one?




@Anwyn @Sumac

coding: gutz

Under the moonless sky, Anwyn disappeared amongst the shadows in the most unsettling away. Like when your eyes play tricks on you in the dark, his form is barely discernible as he moves, but instinct still tells you something is there, moving, lurking. It is a stark and unforgiving contrast against the snow that blankets the forest floor. Whispered crunches of snow beneath his paws is a nearly muted sound as he navigates the forest with ease. Anwyn was on the move and it was with purpose now.

Rhiannon had given them all a task when it came to the ritual and the midnight boy took his roll seriously. He and Sumac were to act as guards, to protect the Coven and ensure no one interrupts them. Desperate for the warm breath of spring, they had no choice but to appease the Goddess if they had any hopes of surviving. So Anwyn took to prowling the forest, taking mental notes of who resided here and who didn’t.

But tonight he was interrupted. The dark boys crown lifted, ears rotating rapidly when the distant sounds of someone sobbing filled the air. With a frown, his course was altered and he headed straight for them, taking great care to move with near silence. Lingering in the shadows of the tree, he moved until he has a vantage point, one that sets Datura directly in his sights. Sobs wrack her lithe frame and tears wet her cheeks. The emotion that spilled from her was both gut wrenching and beautiful. So raw and unfiltered, he didn’t have to wonder what it felt like to feel something so profoundly. Captivated, he could only watch. Haunches folded beneath him subconsciously as he settled in, watching all the pent up sorrow leave her body. There was no way this was just an act.

Like the snapping of a rubber band, his attention shifted the moment he heard someone else approaching. Well hidden, Anwyn hardly so much as breathed. Datura was out her fulfilling her role, she was to find the chosen one. Was this her target that approached?speak like this.

table ; bunny

A large black figure emerged from the treeline.
For a fleeting moment, Datura felt some semblance of relief, believing that the male was Anwyn – even if it meant upsetting Mother Rhiannon, it would be a comfort to have the melanistic male near that night. But this man was not someone she knew, and the momentary relief faded swiftly into terror. Bright green eyes that seemed to glow amidst the darkness like a cat in the night stared down at her. A white marking adorned his facade, like the moon when she is at her fullest. Datura knew instantly…

This is him. This is the chosen one.

The stranger appeared friendly enough, with a relaxed posture and a concerned expression… but it could all be a trick. Males could never be trusted, this was something that had been reinforced within her mind her entire life. Men were filthy and conniving. This one was no different, even if his deep voice was gentle when he asked: ”Are you alright, lass?”

”N-no,” Datura stammered. Her face was one of fear, unfeigned, still wet with the tears she had shed to gain his attention. The wolf frowned. ”What’s the matter?” He seemed so kind, so genuine. Datura wished secretly that he would turn and walk away now, rather than stay and express concern. If he simply left now… But she couldn’t trust her intuition. She had to place her faith in the Goddess. She inhaled a deep breath, mind working hard to conjure up words that would convince the stranger to follow to his doom.

It was clear why Datura had been chosen for this job, so innocent looking. It felt wrong. But there was no other choice. ”P-please, follow me. I n-need help.” And that was all it took. If the man harbored any suspicion, Datura couldn’t perceive it. As she began to lead him, she did perceive something else – a slight limp as the brute walked. If he was injured, was he less worthy? Or perhaps he would be more willing to be coaxed, if he required healing… Whatever the case, Datura walked slowly, cringing as the man’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence: ”What is it that requires my help?” Datura lied: ”M-my mum – she’s close. Sh-she needs help with – with hunting…” She added, ”No dad.”

Datura would lead the unsuspecting man down a winding trail to where Henbane waited, her own duty fulfilled. The chosen one, unsuspecting, followed the girl in silence, ever closer to his bloody demise.


[exit Datura]



@Anwyn

coding: gutz