[ M ] The Hunter's Travesty

HUNT YOU DOWN IN A DREAM

Fog furled over the path as if spilling from her steps—smoke burgeoning from the gates of Hell, roiling from the embers of her auburn pelt. But the she-wolf was not climbing from the pits below. Rather, she descended from the heavenly scape of Tir Na Nog. Now she found herself at the base of the great mountains. She was drawn from hiding by rumors. By chaos. By the promise of newly spilt blood and old traditions returned. A deep yearning tugged her toward that eternal Bonfire and its pinewood charcoal musk; the desire grew ( tighter, tenser ) with each passing moment, but the woman pushed it down to simmer. It was not yet time. Her intentions hid behind the coy smile which sat permanently at the edge of her lips. For now, her purpose was simple: determine if the mewling denizens of Rionnach yet regretted their abandonment of the old ways.


And if they did not, she would make them.


Yvaine’s silver eyes flashed in the fading light as she glanced over her shoulder. It was a brief look at the hidden labyrinth that served as her fortress for nearly two years now. There were some things it was good to abandon. That was all the hesitation the sorceress could muster. Facing forward once more, the lithe creature prowled toward the treeline, every motion smooth and swaying. She hadn’t left the caves without a real goodbye, of course. Something’s wet blood smeared down the woman’s chin and throat, ending with a distinctive paw print on her creamy chest. It glistened in the dusk, and Yvaine glanced upward to spot the moon in the blue-grey sky. “Do not weep, fola. Your sacrifice will serve the sisters well.”

code by claerie
@Rhiannon

R

hiannon emerged from darkness like a wraith. Amethyst sights were cast downward as she walked with an air of grace and dignity. Her expression was vague – distant. Upon her right shoulder, perched silently, was a crow whose feathers matched the inky blackness of shadows in the night. Shining eyes stared straight ahead.

Her mind was entangled, thoughts unceasing. Everything had changed. A chosen family, now scattered. Sisters, friends, all vanished like phantoms. Each had drifted away, as certain as the seasons changed. Juniper had been gone nearly a year, most likely dead. Rhiannon had not been able to keep her here. Moro was long gone, Meala had not been seen in many months, and Gwendolyn… All gone.

Only Nimue remained, but she was different now, attention diverted from magic to books. She was married to her scholarly pursuits and new friends. None of that was in Rhiannon’s nature. She could not settle – she would not settle down in one place, nor for a life of expectation, rules, and being told what was right, what was wrong, fact or fiction. Academia was no place for a wild creature like Rhiannon.

As such, she had largely avoided the Lowlands for weeks, and had not visited there since spring’s arrival. Instead, she had been exploring the northern territories, beyond her usual roaming grounds. Her mother had warned her against these places, that the wolves were superstitious, and condemning. But what did she have to lose? All of life was comings and goings, a constant flux. Perhaps she was growing more bold as she aged.

It was the scent of blood that reached her senses first – that metallic, delicious smell, so alluring. Beneath that scent, however, was one far more interesting to the storm-clad wolfess. Without hesitation, her path altered to find the source. The crow perched on her shoulder shook its feathers, and Rhiannon made a thoughtful sound as she looked about.

@Yvaine

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

HUNT YOU DOWN IN A DREAM

The banduri’s eyes were eager and alight at the slightest sound. She, too, was aware of a new presence, and she turned with a sweeping gaze to a most lovely sight. The counterpart was a woman ( what fortune ); silver fur draped from her thin frame like silky, gossamer threads, curling just so with the breath of the wind. Her coat was water—was walking moonlight. Yvaine immediately took it as a sign, and the moment she met the stranger’s violet eyes, her smile widened. More fascinating yet, the moon-walker was not alone: the crow, so loyally attached to her shoulder, was one of those messenger birds the military used so frequently during the war. That was right before Yvaine became a recluse. But she had a strong feeling that this woman was not associated with the army.


“Thàinig thu thugam,” the banduri uttered, her voice husky and rich and feminine. “You came to me, sister.” With no hesitation, no fear of decorum or danger, Yvaine took a few steps closer to the other. “Just as the moon revealed her face, so too have our paths crossed. And my, you are beautiful.” There was a trill of laughter, joyful but somehow unsettling, in the undertones of Yvaine’s voice. She eyed her counterpart up and down once more. Her attunement to nature made her perceptive, but she didn’t want to present herself as arrogant, so she phrased her next words carefully. “What draws you to the summit: the promise of solitude, or company?”

code by claerie
@Rhiannon

R

hiannon observed the other she-wolf intently, eyes roaming the stranger’s form without shame, as the she-wolf spoke in an ancient tongue. It was a language that had once been common to Rhiannon’s natal pack, and the silver wolfess controlled her expression to display no strong reaction. She had not heard the language spoken in some time. The other complimented her beauty beneath the light of the moon, and Rhiannon smiled coyly.

In a slow and deliberate voice, an octave lower than a small wolf like her should possess, she responded. “Gu toilichte,” An accompanying laugh, low and curious, interrupted her sentiment, but her eyes were fixed upon the sights of the stranger: ”agus gu deònach.” Happily - and willingly. It felt strange indeed to feel the old words on her tongue after so long, to hear them uttered in her tones. But why should she stop? She could still speak, while the others were all long dead.

The unnamed wolfess before her laughed, an odd, happy sound; it was not a laugh often uttered by others who called this realm their own. Rhiannon felt the other’s attention on her, and she did not shy away. “What draws you to the summit: the promise of solitude, or company?”

This inquiry elicited an ever growing smile upon her muzzle. ”Intuition has led me to your side, guided always by the Divine Feminine.” Here, the enchantress would pause intentionally, always observing any flicker of emotion from the stranger to indicate that she was like-minded. Once more speaking the old language, she offered with a playful laugh, ”Ciamar a b’ urrainn dhomh cur an aghaidh?” How could I resist?

@Yvaine

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

HUNT YOU DOWN IN A DREAM

The stranger’s use of the ancient tongue widened the banduri’s smile. Not a stranger after all—a friend, a cousin, a sister. Something darkened in Yvaine’s silver eyes, but it wasn’t violence or distaste. The edges of storm clouds and a starry canopy swirled in her vision and she was hungry. It burned and roiled and burgeoned with the tumultuous power of Morrigan herself. And when the silver woman praised the Divine Feminine, Yvaine’s eyes were as the dark side of the moon. “There is nothing to resist,” she urged lustily. Another step closer, and the still-wet blood trickled down the witch’s chest. “We must feel with every ounce of us, we must listen to the inner voice, because they want to bind our emotions in chains.” If allowed, Yvaine would step up to her counterpart, settling her delicate lips just against her new sister’s ear to whisper:


“There is a reason ’man’ is ’fear’ in the native tongue. He cowers in awe of our capacity.”


With another trill of laughter, the witch stepped away, dancing deeper into the woods. “Your name,” she uttered, “it lives in my heart, but I yearn to hear it with my mortal ears.”

code by claerie
@Rhiannon
ooc. Please forgive the short posts as I still get used to her! <3

“There is nothing to resist.” How often had Rhiannon roamed these woods, only to encounter a stray soldier? Or a pathetic brute? No, it was a rare treat to encounter such an unusual creature, and the sultry words only piqued Rhiannon’s curiosity. Neither the smell nor sight of blood, whoever it may belong to, disturbed the gray she-wolf. The other’s energy, the rich tone of her voice as she expressed her disdain for them – for a brief second, Rhiannon wondered if she was part of some dreamscape.

The stranger inched closer, and Rhiannon made no attempts to move away as the other whispered words both wise and true: “There is a reason ’man’ is ’fear’ in the native tongue. He cowers in awe of our capacity.” ”Their only use is for entertainment purposes,” she offered casually, and with a smile both righteous and profane. She was not alluding to procreation. The very notion would have repulsed the wolfess. Instead, she alluded to the tricks of the forest saved especially for the other gender. ”And the laughter hardly seems worth it when they remain the ones in control.”

A chill ran down her spine at the sound of the other’s laughter, though Rhiannon was not afraid – no, quite far from it. As she slipped further into the forest, she spoke again, and Rhiannon resisted the urge to draw nearer. Not yet.

“Rhiannon is ainm dom.” The lady dressed in storm was named for the white witch of legends, a goddess of both joy and destruction, of heaven as well as the queen of the Otherworld. Her mother had named her well, though the woman had not lived to see her daughter grown. She was a child of both the light and the darkness, and had also been a natural when it came to spiritual pursuits and passion for the unseen Divinity she revered.

Of course, not everyone knew that particular story – but Rhiannon suspected this one would comprehend the moniker’s implications. She was, naturally, quite interest as well, and allowed herself to move closer, slowly, to the still-nameless enchantress. ”And yours, cridhe gràidh*?”


* dear heart (Gaelic)

@Yvaine

art & code by alexandre

HUNT YOU DOWN IN A DREAM

The silver female’s retort procured a wry smile from Yvaine. Her head tilted just so; her eyes gleamed beneath lowered lids and thick lashes. “Ah, but they only think they are the ones in control. They can write their petty laws, make mundane decrees, and play king with toys and trinkets. But Woman is the domineer of life. She gives and takes as she will.” Playfully, perhaps seductively, Yvaine’s tongue trailed the row of her glistening upper-fangs. “Oh, and she will take.” It was clear to the banduri that this woman was abused by the world of males. How delicious it would be to put power into her hands, to bear witness as she exacted violent revenge. That quickly, it was one of the witch’s greatest desires.


The revelation of the moon-woman’s name was confirmation. The scarlet silk of Yvaine’s fur nearly stood on end; she straightened, eyes brightening once more. “You are a Queen!” she cried with delight. Oh yes; if this woman wasn’t already a leader, they must make it so. “Rhiannon,” she repeated, huskily, tenderly. “My name is Yvaine Lusk.” Lusk was the family name of a matriarchy, passed from woman to woman as names should be. Hers was a lineage of witches and earth-speakers so wild and rich and rooted in Rhionnach’s soil, the Mainlanders tried to sear it from existence time and time again.


“Queen-Sister,” Yvaine uttered, “I have slumbered in the dark for so long. You must tell me, where do you live? And are there others like us? I would like to meet them.” Yvaine spoke with the same brilliant eagerness in her tone, and yet, her features were porcelain-smooth. Her aura hinted that she would be unfazed either way, as unperturbed as the moon itself. Nothing would hinder her plans.

code by claerie
@Rhiannon

T

he wolfess communicated a familiar gospel, to Rhiannon’s great delight – that the men could try, as well they did, to control the world around them… But none among them could avoid death. None of them was stronger than the unseen, the sacred – the feminine. The other’s voice brought an excited shiver up the witch’s spine. “She gives and takes as she will.” The sight of the other’s tongue seemed only to strengthen the tempest raging inside of Rhiannon. “Oh, and she will take.” There was nothing that this woman could take that Rhiannon would not give willingly, and her half-lidded expression said as much without words.

Upon learning Rhiannon’s name, the stranger seemed stunned, eyes sparkling as she declared, “You are a Queen!” The tone of her voice, sultry and inviting, inspired another fond smile. She repeated the she-wolf’s name as it was offered, savoring the feeling of it upon her tongue. ”Yvaine.”

The woman asked where she lived, and the enchantress responded, without missing a beat. ”I dwell in the shadows,” Rhiannon answered vaguely, with an air of nonchalance. ”I have no true home. There is no need for settling in one place. The twilight is my home, the deepest night my temple.”

She paused before considering Yvaine’s second inquiry, taking in a deep breath of air, still filled with the other’s feminine scent. ”As for others of our kind…” Her voice tapered into quiet thoughtfulness. Once, there had been others. But it had been years ago now, years since she had let in her Sisters, only for them to all vanish. A bittersweet sigh, barely perceptible, escaped her lips before she answered: ”Most likely. If you were to find them, please do send them my direction.”


@Yvaine

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

HUNT YOU DOWN IN A DREAM

Desire burgeoned between the two she-wolves, unfurling itself like the petals of an evening primrose. No, Yvaine thought, we are the datura, the moonflower, the devil’s trumpet. Beautiful and poisonous. Their chemistry was a full-throated song from the heart of nature. And the vines of Gaia twined them together like rope. It was evident why the two had an instant connection: anyone could see that Rhiannon was ice and Yvaine was fire. They were two halves of one whole, two pieces of a single, undying soul. Now that they were reunited in this life, Yvaine was determined that nothing could cleave them apart.


“The nomadic life,” the banduri murmured, raising her chin in recognition. “The true spirit of the witch.” She had no home either, unless one considered her cave a “residence.” It was merely a place to slumber, to gain strength, while she waited for the world around her to realign with her chaos. It was not her home, and with any luck, she would not retreat to that dark, festering place for a long, long time.


Curiosity drew Yvaine closer, now. Could this be the source of the vast loneliness she sensed in Rhiannon from the start? Sisters scattered to the wind… It was the pestilent Adamh and his Mainland religion: the preservation of man above nature, the worship of ass-kissing nobles. Yvaine smirked. “We’ll find them together. And when we do, others will crawl to your temple steps…” There was no space between them now. “They will cling to your pillars…” The banduri’s scarlet lips whispered at the base of the other woman’s ear.


“And they will beg to worship you, Queen of the Night.”

code by claerie
@Rhiannon

"We'll find them together.” The tempestuous femme was silent as the stars above as she listened to Yvaine’s sensuous prose, promises of what could be. Together. There could be others, she whispered in feverish tones. Queen of the Night…

But Rhiannon had been fooled before, on many occasions: by those she counted as her Sisters, the ones she had trusted, who only went away. By Nimue, who had once been her own Lady of the Lake, now the companion of another, a male, no less! By Juniper, her sweet girl, who had been merely a child when she vanished. Rhiannon had never stopped searching, and she likely would always keep looking for the gentle green-eyed wolfess, but she had little hope of finding her or any of the others. As for Nimue… At least she was alive, but the distance was at times overwhelming, her choices unfathomable for the free-spirited Rhiannon.

Now, this beautiful creature of the night moved closer to her still, impossibly close, so near that the witch could feel the other’s heart beating wildly within her ribcage against her own. There was nothing between them but her own pestering thoughts.

What if… What if the others were not out there, as she presumed and desired? What if their kind was indeed a dying breed? There could be no doubt that this encounter was serendipitous – but what was its meaning, its purpose, beyond the fever of lust? What did the Feminine Divine expect of Rhiannon now – to flee because the loss seemed all but inevitable in the end, or to stay beside this fascinating woman because the opposite could be so?

Yvaine seemed certain in her needs; Rhiannon had believed herself to be, but found herself questioning: What if it is only us that remains? What then?

Her breaths came quickly as she nestled her face against Yvaine’s neck. Her voice was husky and low as she spoke in her ear; as the enchantress spoke, she knew what awaited the pair this night. ”I will stay if you will, mo nighean bhòidheach*.”

* my beautiful girl (Gaelic)


@Yvaine

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck