to infinity

@Esmerelda

 

Pain. All she could feel was the pain in her head, the pain in the back of her neck. There was some recollection of the fight, but it's foggy. All of it is foggy. Riot tried to right herself... was it futile? Were her efforts going to be too little, too late? Sure, they'd tracked her down and tried to kill her, but she's... here? She's here, right? If she's here, if she's breathing, then they hadn't found any success.

But then, they wouldn't leave her, if they'd found her. There's no chiding voices, no vitriolic remarks from her cousins ringing in her ears. It didn't seem her sister had come looking for her, either. No, that's a scent, a voice she'd know anywhere. Her dear, dear sister... gone. When the dusky sky finally comes into focus, Iscariot is alone. Just alone.

It felt like she'd been through a meat grinder, blood still trickling weakly from the back of her head. Crawling, then climbing to her feet, Iscariot doesn't know what to make of it. She's on a beach of some kind, but these aren't the desolate, freezing sands of home. That's likely for the best. Giving a cough and stumbling for a moment, Iscariot does what she can to claw at her bearings. Where the fuck was she?

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A woman pulled herself from the sea onto their shores, draped in the tendrils of the Mother's love. Was it a sign? There was only one true way to find out;

Esmerelda approached, the wind ruffling the salt-spray curls of her fur, her experienced paws finding easy footing on the soft, white sands of their beach. Where most washed ashore still asleep, this one dragged — heaved herself free of the tumultuous ocean, its waters roiling like the dark clouds above them. ('A mãe tem estado com raiva ultimamente... — The mother has been angry lately...') The deep, wet green of kelp that hung upon her was a stark difference from a coat of spun silvers but it was gift, a sign, a boon to the Saltwoods.

One step. It was all she took so far, the trembling of muscles obvious. She had earned his purchase here upon her beach, lilac eyes watching the female for a moment before the distance between them shrunk as the Siren swept forward to help her find safe harbor before the storm hit. Her form braced the girl's own as she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the driftwood wolf, the victim of Mother Sea's sometimes harshly displayed affections.

“Safety is not far. Remain strong.”

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Iscariot both looks and feels like a drowned rat, in this moment.  Coughing seawater, head still spinning.  There's nothing to grab onto, nothing to help her make sense of things.  Not yet.  Staggering, trying to get her bearings.  It's too dangerous to look weak for too long, especially given her stature and state.  Sharp eye on the world around her, Riot's gaze settles on the figure moving toward her.  

Reaching for the knife carried at her ribs and finding it gone, her heart squeezes.  It would be down to teeth, if she needed to defend herself.  Still, the woman comes closer, and she doesn't look all that threatening.  Matching Iscariot in size, but dwarfing her in softness.  Though she considers lifting a lip, showing her teeth, it's not in her best interest.  Riot is smarter than that.  

Instead, she leans into the shoulder, accepts the help.  Whatever debt it put her in would pale in comparison to whatever was behind her.  "What is this place?"  Coughing, her mouth fills with seawater once more.  Taking care to spit it on the other side, away from her new companion.  Safety.  The promise of safety had been only a fable for so long, and Iscariot wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Nails against the slick stone beneath her, she'd fight to remain upright.  Sodden and shaky, there's still fight in her.  "I was jumped, and then there was nothing.  And then there was you."  Beseeching, though she continues on, tucked close to her companion's side.

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“Safe harbor,” The Mystic would reply cleanly, her eyes meeting the other’s with a cool and confident indifference. Self assured and confident, Esme was unconcerned with this one. If the Mother Sea had deposited her here, it was for a reason, and she would seek that reasoning before she cast the die of judgement. The sands shifted wetly, thickly beneath their paws, clumping around their toes and sticking to their fur. It was not until they began to reach where the drier sands that were cooling from their day in the sun met the cool dirt and grass of the Saltwoods treeline.

“I will answer your questions shortly. Rest here for a moment. I will return.”

The mottled silver woman would disappear into the dense forest only to return some short minutes later with a plant in her mouth; red, teardrop shaped berries hung from the greenery, a good handful of them a deeper red than the others. Easing close again, Esmerelda would place the strawberry cluster near enough that the water-logged wolf could grab them without having to move too much. “Eat. You will feel better for it.” For not only were they a sugary food to give her a bit of energy, they were a hydrating snack, one that should help the woman recover from all the salt water.

Without backing away, Esmerelda would sit and watch her with those periwinkle eyes, curious, intelligent with a suspicion that lurked beneath the surface. “ You have washed upon the shores of the Saltwoods. If you remember nothing, know you are not alone. We all wake up here in similar fashion. No memory and nothing familiar.

I am Esmeralda.”

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Harsh.  Paranoid.  All of her sharp lines, all of her aching sides, she's deeply paranoid.  Riot is used to being on her own, and she's used to the idea that there's no safety in it.  Then, is there any more safety in company?  Is there any comfort in this?  And still, her caretaker in this moment.. she has no choice.  No choice but to trust, despite her worries.  

As sand gives way to dirt, her steps steady.  The treeline provides some respite from the harsh sea breeze, though everything still feels sticky.  Salty.  Briny.  She'd damn near been pickled by the ocean.  The silvery woman promises answers, though she asks for time.  It seemed as if Iscariot had nothing but time, so wait she would.  At the sight of food, she does perk up.  A sweet tooth... one of her better kept secrets.  "Thank you," her words are soft, breathless for a moment.  Kindness comes at a premium, and this?  It's more than she's seen in an age.  

Savoring the strawberries, letting them rest in her mouth for a long moment.  It's a grounding experience, even if her reality is still a strange one.  Her memory is foggy, too many pictures moving and shifting.  Stop-motion in her head.  Though her experience may not be unique, it's no less jarring.  "I'm Iscariot--" she cuts herself off before she can give her surname.  They're responsible for this, they have to be.  They were hardly to kin to start with.  

"Saltwoods... this is your home?"  Trying to get her bearings, though she has nothing to bind herself to.  Shredded skin on the backs of her paws, rubbed raw by the bottom of the sea.  "I don't mean to wash up as an intruder, sorry," perhaps uncharacteristic, for a nasty piece of work like Riot.  She's sheepish, ragged, and still deeply confused. 

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There were many things that the Mystic observed about the sea-worn woman, things that she secreted away into her mind for later thought and contemplation. Some remained on the surface, of course, lurking beneath the serene surface of her gaze. Her impressions were yet tempered by patience, however; she has been tossed about the sea, chewed up and spit out like so much meat. Whatever this woman's temperament now was surely exacerbated by the circumstances in which she found herself.

“Iscariot,” She would parrot easily, tail curled around her paws for the moment, cold for the wetness that clung to her fur. The sea spray hadn't gotten her too bad, but she was still enthused by the thought of the warm den that waited for her beneath the canpy of the island's forest. She watched the red juice of the strawberries dribble from her chin for a moment before she met Iscariot's gaze one more. “It is; I am the Mystic, the leader, here and there is no need to apologize. There is a storm darkening the skies; we can provide shelter, at least until you have recuperated.

If you would like to stay, that would be alright too.” She smiled gently, tilting her head to the right a touch, stretching out her neck. “Mother Sea saw fit to place you upon these shores, after all.”
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