blood in the water

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 What an quaint little lake.

 A scarred, mottled beast stood at the edge of the lake, blood-red eyes focused on the water. Its azure hue was odd and strangely familiar, though she couldn't put a finger on how. She had been cursed to this land, memories of her mortal life filling her mind even as each and every scar from her bitter existence splashed across her body in vibrant contrast.

 She stepped forward, water rushing up and shocking her as it flooded over her paws and legs, lapping at her body as she lowered it into the chill, a forced exhale sending steam from her mouth. It was a cold morning and the water would not help with the chill, instead sending sharp stabs of pain across every part of her body that she now submerged.

 The water covered her back now and she rested her chin against the surface of the water, snorting out the cold water whenever it rose enough to reach her nostrils. Her eyes shut and she thought, memories returning to her once more. She thought of a lake like this, of a tree. Of a storm that sent power through that tree, its branches falling to crush the first wolf she had ever loved. Her closed eyes squinted shut further and she shook, body sending ripples across the water's surface.

 Then her eyes flashed open.

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+1 Discovery Points

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[narrow width=700]A frightened muskrat chittered angrily at the wolf who had possessed the audacity to intrude on its section of the lake, finding her right in the path it used to bring more nesting materials back to its watery home. Finding the effort wasted, the little creature gave a dignified snort and swam gracefully around her (taking care to give her a wide berth) and fled back to its lair.

Valeska heard the noises from her current vantage point, and swiveled her head curiously. She was presently inspecting a very large boulder that might serve as a lovely speech platform one day, its great bulk jutting out of the earth like a flat slab, and she particularly liked the colorful pansies that grew about its base. She would remember it later, as her followers needed to hear more tales of the Five anyway, and they hadn’t practiced their daily devotions in a long time - she suspected they didn’t miss it, but nevertheless, it needed remedying. Their eternal souls hung in the balance, and only Valeska and questionable herb consumption could save them.

Her pace quickened as she set off to find the source of the odd noises, and caught the tail-end of the muskrat disappearing into its home before she suddenly realized that a wolf was in their lake.

She was scarred and disfigured, the true shade of her pelt almost unrecognizable beneath the jagged war-wounds she had received in her lifetime. Her ears were torn, her tail a broken nub; the wolf was of immense size, almost bear-like in appearance with her various scars and missing parts. Valeska had never seen anything like her, and she approached cautiously.

Unable to see the stranger’s eyes, she feared the worst. “Hello? You are not dead, are you?” she asked tentatively. “If you are not dead, then may offer assistance?”[/narrow]

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+1 Discovery Points

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 Ignorant of the muskrat, Andraste had continued to bask in the chill of the water, feeling it suck the warmth out of her with every breath.

 The wildlife here was none of her concern, unless a snake were to decide that tonight, it would attempt to feast on a beast so much larger and more intimidating than it. This place was... pretty. The water reminded her of the sea, she realized. Not the angry gray of a storm, but the quiet peace along the shore during the heat of the day, and only in one particular bay that she'd passed through in her past life.

 A noise drew her attention and she turned, gaze meeting that of a silvery wolf with golden eyes. The aged bitch watched her absentmindedly, considering the words before she drew herself up and turned, body pushing the azure waters and leaving ripples that rolled along through the lake. “Assistance? With what?” she called back, raspy voice carefully controlled so it would not shake with the chill of the water. “Aren't we all dead here?” A sliver of a smile flicked across her lips but was washed away by the water she strode through.

 The stranger was pale, like herself, but unlike herself the other was utterly scarless. Perfection in that stocky little form. If it weren't for the voice, the scarred witch would have imagined she was a child. Still, there was nothing familiar about this one. A perfect stranger... who was lucky that Andraste had over-feasted and was not hungry in the slightest.

 Regardless, she continued with slow steps towards the shore, not aiming directly for the girl but heading in that general direction. “Is this your lake?” She hadn't smelled pack here, though she'd figured she'd picked up some smell of wolves filtering through. Not enough to have a claim that they would be upset that she was taking a bath, surely?

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+1 Discovery Points

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[narrow width=700]The scarred woman’s gruff response threw her off-guard for a moment. Most strangers she met had trouble coping with the idea of having passed on, and Valeska was more used to talking them down off the metaphorical edge than... this. She was at a loss.

“I, well... I think so,” she sputtered, blinking in confusion. This was not how this was supposed to go. In a way it was refreshing, not having to assuage the traumatized feelings of someone who still needed to come to terms with death, but she also had no idea how to proceed. “Ah, well... if need assistance in... dead wolf things. Have never met someone okay with Purgatory yet. Normally I offer snacks and rest.”

As the great beast drew herself up, the lake and long, bending Cattails that littered the shallows seemed to part before her as if in awe - she was an impressive creature, tall and strong and commanding, and she appeared even moreso with the myriad of scars lacing up and down her body like tiger stripes. Valeska remained rooted to the spot. “Elysium makes home here, but are not ferocious about territory. We like to see who is here, for curious-ness. If spent all day chasing wolves off, would be tired anyway - much more fun to make friends and learn tales.”

And did she ever want to know this woman’s story.

Clearing her throat as the white reaper lumbered ever closer, she sought for something meaningful to say; anything to fill the hungry silence between them and distract the burning of her red, piercing eyes lest they burn right through the little wolf. Valeska felt as if all of her fur had fallen out and she stood naked and pink and vulnerable, so ferocious was the gaze of this woman - she would have been afraid if she weren’t so terribly interested as to why.

What had happened to her?

“Do you retain memory? Of Before?”

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+2 Discovery Points

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 The little lady was clearly thrown, stumbling over her words in response. Speckled nose twitched in dark amusement, feeling a little thrill of power running through her body. Snacks and rest? Purgatory? Andraste grinned. No, this wasn't Purgatory - this was hell and she was a devil.

 But she would amuse herself here, she supposed.

 A peaceful little pack, how quaint. The scarred beast had never met a peaceful pack that stayed that way. Even those who proclaimed to desire peace above all would fall to war if forced. Those that were not trained in it, birthed in it... well, they likely wouldn't survive it. So why have a pack formed with peace in mind if it would only mean their downfall? She shook off the water as she stepped onto the shore, claws gripping into the earth and stone as she turned to face the little silver lady.

 Red eyes peered down at golden. “I'm not usually one that wolves try to make friends with,” she mused, though something in her words rang differently. Long ago, her life revolved around making friends with other packs and ensuring peaceful diplomacy. She'd failed, terribly, as a swamp monster of a pack had risen out of the waters to devour them.

 At the time, plump with pups, she'd fled.

 If she had known that those pups would have been floating in the water months later, perhaps she would have stayed to fight. But no, that pack of cowards had never earned her loyalty. She suspected this one wouldn't be able to even try, if she wanted to. “Of before...” she said, almost to herself, then her lips peeled into a grin, “Of before being sent to hell and crawling out of the earth like some goddamn living corpse?” She laughed. “You could say that. I remember every awful detail of the life that damned me to this hell.”

 She had been damned and had instead become a devil, rather than a poor victim. But that didn't answer a question she had nibbling at the back of her mind. “What did you do to be sent here, pretty little princess that you are?” Was she a pup-smotherer? A man-killer? A home-wrecker?

 Andraste was all of those and more.

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[narrow width=700]In the interest of transparency, Valeska was having a rather difficult time keeping up with their conversation (as terse and tense as it was) because every time the great wolf before her uttered a swear, Valeska chanted a prayer of forgiveness in her head. Some folks, she knew, would not seek salvation on their own as readily, but she’d be da-... darned, if she wouldn’t try to save them herself.

’... like a goddamned living corpse?’

Gods forgive angry lady for swear, amen.

’.... every awful detail of the life that damned me to this hell.’

Gods forgive angry lady for continuing to swear, amen.

Seeing that she had finally finished uttering filthy words, Valeska could now return her attention to the meaning behind him; as the scarred woman came dangerously closer, she still did not shrink, though her eyes briefly wandered to the extra toes that flashed briefly across her vision. How... strange. She wondered briefly if they were useful, but when she saw the long, jagged claws protruding out from said toes, she figured they probably were.

She cleared her throat.

“Looks awful nice for hell, I think,” she began, peering round the great wolf’s bulk as if to reassure herself of the brilliant view before them. Mockingbirds sang, pine trees rustled gently, water lapped cheerfully at the shoreline. It was downright idyllic. Maybe this lady’s version of heaven was fire and brimstone? Happiness was subjective, and so was personal taste.
She hoped she found her heaven one day, full of the fire and brimstone and screaming she desired.

“What did I do?” she replied, clearly startled to be asked in the first place. It was an honest question, but the answer was still a little uncomfortable. “Had really bad day and fell in a hole. Earth split, I scream, then no screaming because neck bent in very un-neck-like way. Woke here.”
It really wasn’t glorious. Valeska had hoped her final moments would have been spent doing something valiant and noble, but falling down in a permanent way was at least better than drowning, she reckoned. “Would ask you, but seem cranky, and do not wish to worsen crank. You know what make day better?”

She hesitated.

“Mushies.”
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+1 Discovery Points

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 Awful nice for hell?

 Andraste glanced around and exhaled through her nose. I guess, she'd give her that, she supposed silently. Their current location was quite... heavenly, for hell, she supposed. Regardless, there was no way she'd died and woken up in the ground of all places anywhere except some afterlife. And she was damn certain she hadn't woken in heaven, not with her checkered past.

 “The... earth... swallowed you up?” the white witch said, brow narrowed. Then she cackled, oh the irony! “The earth spat me out here.” How fucking hilarious was that! She and this little silver fox, opposites and the same. She sneered,

 , but then that sneer fell into a confused blink.

 “Mushies?” What, like cuddles? Mushy mushy kiss kiss? Bewildered, she stood and stared at the grey-and-white hound, completely thrown off track.

 What the hell was a mushie?

 For all of Andraste's misdeeds in her previous life, she had somehow escaped the notice of any wolf or otherwise who would have offered her drugs. She'd heard of wolves taking substances that made them... different, but she had never been offered it so she had no clue that that was what was happening right now.

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Inb4 Andraste offers drugs to all her future victims because she likes the way it flavors it

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[narrow width=700]It was a small miracle that the thus-far nameless wolf hadn't grown tired of her yet and simply torn her to fluffy white shreds, and it was another miracle still that Valeska hadn't considered this as a possibility yet. Innocent until proven guilty was a lovely mantra to live by, but not always practical, and there wasn't any way for her to have survived this long except through sheer blind luck.

She didn't quite understand why the monstrous wolf before her thought the idea of falling inside a big hole and perishing was so funny, but she chalked it up to some kind of secret language twist that she hadn't yet mastered and tried to force out a chuckle as well. “Ha-ha, yes, it was... the hilarious,” she rallied bravely. “All the way down. Never laugh so hard. What ride. A ride. Ha!”

Dying. Absolutely hysterical.

Mercifully, the topic of conversation shifted at the suggestion of mushies, which was met with a quizzical look - seeing the foul-mouthed stranger so utterly caught off-guard was a little gratifying, and Valeska felt at last that she had something to offer that might be taken well. Smiling wordlessly, she trotted a little ways off toward a broken tree stump and pointed with her muzzle. A tiny cluster of mushrooms surfaced out from its jagged edges on long, thin stems, billowing out at the top into little round caps the shade of a warm sunset - they were really quite mysterious. “Mushies,” she called out by way of explanation. “Eat them, they take you places. Other places. Also relaxing. Also sometimes not relaxing, but always... how to say... cray-zee.”

Delicately taking one up in her jaws, she pulled it gently from the stump and came back to lay it at the woman's paws; it was such a small thing, completely innocuous, and utterly nonthreatening.

Valeska beamed like a child expecting its parent to participate in a game it had come up with.

“Is gift. Take.”
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+1 Discovery Points

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 Andraste watched, amused, as Valeska attempted to join in the laughter and make light of her demise. Yes, it was hilarious. Death was nothing but a gateway to hell, and they were already here so why not laugh! Even if it was a very pretty hell.

 After the confusion about mushies, the stranger wandered away towards a rotting stump. The white witch followed behind, looking very much like a prowling big-cat with the way her muscles slid under her body. If it were another day, perhaps she would have been more than a little tempted to make a leap for the other's turned back, but for now she was more curious than hungry.

 Ah. Mushrooms.

 Why the hell would she want to eat mushrooms?

 She did suppose they looked... interesting. Tiny mushrooms with long stems she could just imagine getting stuck in her teeth. The silver wolf explained how they altered one's perceptions and she considered them with a couple blinks of her crimson eyes. The other laid one down at her paws and she looked down at the thing, tiny and framed by her massive paws.

 Ah, fuck it. Down the hatch the mushroom went, her lips twisting up and away from her teeth in reaction to the very strange flavor and rubbery texture. It was as if she'd licked a pile of earth-rot and was trying to chew on it, but nevertheless, she gave a couple of hard swallows and looked at the other wolf expectantly.

 Now what?

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[narrow width=700]Time seemed to move in slow motion. Agonizingly, millimeter by millimeter, the scarred she-wolf lowered her head to inspect the delicate little fungus betwixt her paws. Civilizations rose and fell in the lapse of the eternity that spanned in the moments before her lips touched the round golden cap nestled before her, and then - it disappeared.

Valeska stared, owl-like.

She could see the wolf's displeasure, the morsel's bitter flavor assaulting her palate as it had Valeska's many times before - but such unpleasantries were only temporary, and she grew giddy with the anticipation of the wonders her new acquaintance might see. Visions of the gods? Of heaven? Would she glimpse her past, or see her future? The little wolf herself had traveled through the stars and still remembered well how she had accidentally slammed into a meteor during that adventure, turning into space-dust in the process and reforming anew, eternally, endlessly, ten thousand Valeskas hurtling through the ether as she screamed.

How lucky would this one be? What treasures await?

Laying on her belly, she stared up at the great white witch expectantly and waited for the precious magic to take hold.

Andraste's pupils suddenly expanded.

“Tell me... what does stranger see with her special eyes?”
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 Mushrooms really did taste disgusting. The strange texture squished between her teeth and she felt it ooze slightly, wrapping her tongue in further bitterness. There was a slight tingle, too, though she wasn't sure if that was a regular occurrence with this particular type or if she had some minor allergy to the substance.

 She waited for what felt like years, the little silver wolf's eyes fixed on hers so much that she felt almost uncomfortable.

 The white witch of the woods was about to begin considering whether she should just use this strange little wolf as a meal, when it hit. She felt her grasp on reality loosening as if being detached from her body, soul pulling forcefully forward and out of her body. If she had been human at any point in her miserable life, she might have compared it to sky-diving. The moment one escapes the confines of the ship and suddenly there is nothing but air and the hot breath of the individual clipped to your back. Her body, still there, still ever-present, but receding as her mind rushed forward, leaving time in its wake.

 The world blurred around her.

 Where once there was a pleasant lake, glassy surface barely more than a shadow in the darkness of the morning, there was fog. The fog from her breath spilled outwards, filling the land, surrounding her. Voices called to her and she blinked back tears from her eyes.

 “Sebastian?” she breathed, though whether it was a whisper or a yell to Valeska she did not know. Nor would she care, if she knew.

 He was calling to her, soothing her. Promising her that he would be with her, no matter what their gods wanted. That he was a Saint and he could protect her. Saying that he would love her - though some tiny logic in the back of her mind reminded her with a bitter wash that those words had never actually escaped his lips. He was pure, in a way she could never have been. Even when she was a child, forced to do unfathomable things that created an initial hunger in her... she had been born flawed and her Sebastian had been everything that she wasn't.

 And then, the lightning struck. The tree fell.

 She could hear his cries, his gasps for breath, his death. Her mother's laughter. The growls of her husband, of the wolves who wished her dead. The panting cries of her pups as she smothered him, and abandoned her, and faked her death to escape them, and left them. The stink of rot.

 She stood shock-still, but she was falling, falling, and then she was on the ground, retching. Removing the contents of her stomach - thankfully digested enough to not bear any resemblance to what they truly were.

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How does one who has never had drugs write about a wolf having drugs? lol Idk what I'm doing

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[narrow width=700]With bated breath did Valeska observe the pale woman and her ember-hot eyes. Moments passed, and as she watched, she also became watched in turn; and the seconds ticked by as slowly as her fear instincts developed day by day into a response mechanism that might one day serve a purpose and save her (second) life. For now, however, they remained dormant, and she could not possibly envision how this scenario might go wrong. She had already died once - what was there to fear? The scarred witch was merely misunderstood. She could be helped, nurtured.

Loved, even.

No one could ever truly be unworthy of love.

The as-yet nameless woman suddenly lurched forward as her eyes assumed a glassy sheen, face contorting into an expression of bewilderment and something akin to despair. She staggered like a marionette on strings, helplessly tugged in the direction of some unseen ghost from a past that she so desperately reached for with invisible arms, her mouth twisted up in agonizing sorrow - she was a different creature, now, a small thing, folding in on herself like a castle made of crumbling sand.

Mushrooms had never yet affected Valeska in such a way; she also hadn't the foggiest idea how they actually worked, but she assumed that the gods chose what visions to bestow upon those who consumed it. It made sense. Perhaps the less devout were forced to suffer in their sins, while the pious were gifted fantastical trips into the ether and feelings of sublime elation - and as she realized what she had done, her eyes widened in horror. This wolf was clearly a sinner, but Valeska had never meant to cause her grief.

“Oh - oh, shit - I am sorry,” she tittered, rushing to her side in a flurry of concern. “The gods, they grant visions, and it cannot be predicted - I did not believe they would make you hurt. I do not know what you saw, but I cannot apologize enough. Here, let me fetch food - you have, ah, do not know word in this tongue - вырвало — vomited.” Feeling her acquaintance might be too sluggish to move for herself, Valeska turned and quickly disappeared in a flash of silver, her retreating form fading from view much quicker than the witch might have thought her capable of.

Panicked and distraught, she reached the great slanting rock beneath which she had earlier placed the small carcass of a hare for later consumption. It was tall, easily ten or eleven feet high; the one she had noted could make a fine vantage point from which to hold announcements and host gatherings. For now, though, it was a storage unit and an easy marker, and she praised her foresight in utilizing it.

Running back with slightly less grace as a flapping carcass dangled alongside her like a macabre bike streamer, she skidded to a halt and flung the hare at the wolf's paws with little ceremony. “Eat; cannot lose your strength over folly I made!”

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 She vaguely heard the voice of the other woman, breaking into her fantasy like a warm blanket on a cold day. She found herself unconsciously pressing into the smaller form, focusing solely on her own bodily functions as she retched and cleared her stomach of everything, and then she retched some more. Heaving until only slime left her lips, a last-ditch attempt from her body to protect her throat from the acids below.

 The presence beside her was gone and she lurched to the side in its absence, crumpling to her elbow and grunting in unhappiness.

 She lay there, panting, clearing her mind, until the other wolf returned with a hare of all things locked in her jaws. Andraste's eyes were still bleary but cleared slightly at the scent of blood and she felt the emptiness within her. The hare was flung at her paws and bounced up, thudding against her splayed legs before landing unceremoniously on the ground - right next to the pile of half-digested meat. She frowned at it, still a bit too queasy to eat.

 “The hell was that?”

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[narrow width=700]Valeska felt for the poor woman. She could count on one paw the number of times she'd experienced the displeasure of emptying her stomach, remembering well how it had burned like fire in her throat. The sight of the as-yet nameless stranger retching her guts up sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt herself gag reflexively - even the presence of vomit made her want to throw up in sympathy. The little wolf swallowed, an audible 'ulp' sound sneaking out from her lips as she managed to fight back the urge.

She risked another glance over, and caught the tail-end of a glob of saliva flopping wetly onto the ground.

'By the Five,' she thought in horror.

The hare lay lifeless and sorrowful before the witch's exhausted form. Valeska wasn't bothered by this and let the offering be, coming instead to kneel down next to the hulking she-wolf and offer what little solace she could provide.

“Honestly? Am not sure,” she replied, her tone laced with concern. “All visions different. Some things that were, some things that might be; is difficult to say. I do not know what you saw, but you - you are strong.”

Valeska fell silent and stared down at her paws thoughtfully, allowing the sounds of springtime to wash over them in a cacophony of birdsong and buzzing insects. After a time, she continued. “I saw Amara leave me,” she ventured quietly. “In a vision. Her eyes were dark and full of... it was not even hate. Indifference. Somehow was worse. She turned away from me, and left.”

Her yellow gaze shifted imperceptibly up to meet her scarred companion's face, unsure of what she might see there - she was difficult to read, and so full of pain. “I do not know if it was glimpse of the future. It felt... real. My other visions, they were not like that - all colors and shapes and sounds. Hard to interpret.”

Valeska turned to fully face her.

“I am sorry for what you saw. Stay as long as need to rest; we are peaceful. I wish to ask - what is your name? Please, if I can help, tell me.”
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 Visions? Yeah, that sure as hell was a vision. Not a super great one, Andraste decided she'd prefer not seeing that sort of shit again. It brought back old feelings, memories of when she was still happy and good and then when it all was torn apart. Well, she supposed, she'd never truly been happy. From the first month, curled up with a mother who had suddenly changed into another and then needed to be devoured so she could survive... To the pack where gods supposedly trusted her and then abandoned, leaving her heartbroken and lost and following a man whose love for her dwindled as his desire for life fled him.

 The memories were too painful and she backed away, weak on her paws.

 The woman was talking about some chick named Amara being indifferent, and Andraste commented, “Sounds fucking familiar,” though the comment was more towards herself than anything. The face of her husband when he didn't even care to be by her side... and then his rage and pain when he believed her dead. It served him right for what he had done to her, but then again a part of her pitied him.

 “Andraste,” she said before she even realized herself and she shook her withered pelt out. “I can't stay.” Her time in this little place was over, she had to go. Just the sound of the lake and the distant waterfall made her stomach churn and memories try to rustle their way forward. “Thanks for the hare, but I really -” she swallowed another round of vomit and stepped away. “Bye.”

 And with that, the witch would turn and amble away, still unsteady but determined to try to find somewhere, someplace to clear her mind of whatever had just happened.

 And try to keep the hare down.

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Exit unless stopped! <3

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