addicted to this life

@Harper

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It was still raining, but the storm was fading. Just as the fire within her quelled. The edges of the sun were beginning to peak through the thick cast of clouds that had hidden her that night, and as the moon yawned and faded away, so too did the sun crawl into existence. The day was coming again, just like every day had before. Day after day. But something was different within Amaranth this morning, her amethyst eyes uncertain and dark as she peered upon her own reflection from within the rippling lake.

She hadn't slept.
She hadn't dreamt.
There was ... nothing.

She could only revisit the many, many visions of her past. She could only attempt to understand what was real, and what had been imagined in her mind. And the process of understanding these thoughts nearly sent her into a manic spiral; it reminded her that she did not know who she was ... or what she was. For she knew not what was real, before this life and before the Last Life that she had lived. Amaranth could not understand where she was, or how she had gotten here - she no longer knew if she was real, or if Valeska was real ... or if Kishi was real. She no longer even understood if she, herself was real.

And so she sat, golden rump plastered to the damp earth at the edge of the crystalline lake. Deep purple eyes stared into the depth of the rippling water, water that seemed to sigh as the edges of the storm began to fade away. And she could only look at herself and wonder ... wonder ... wonder what was real, and what was but a figment of her prolific imagination.

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 The idea of being real had never really been a question for Harper. She knew she existed, and that was that. But now, in this new world, Harper began to question things; things beyond this life. Were they actually dead? If so, where in the heck were they, that they could still feel the pains of hunger, or the joys of… anything?

 There was only one way to seek answers, and that was to visit the spiritual realm; to go high as they were and gather their guidance. So she’d taken her bitter medicine and gone, but alas, went for a dive. It was time that she introduced the wonders of medicine to the golden chicken of Elysium, and thus, Harper picked up the root and would eventually come to find Amaranth by the lake.

 “Ah, just the canine I was looking for,” Harper almost slurred, though her voice was a few octaves higher than it normally was, and of course, the fluent English, because if anything else, that was the entire reason she enjoyed it. She could speak like they could. “This is for you. Come, journey with me.”

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She stared over the endless, twinkling surface of the morning lake. The ripples distorted her reflection, refracting with rainbows as the sun threatened to peek from behind a thin veil of billowy grey clouds. It was an unfamiliar look to this familiar place, and the needles of the evergreen trees weighted with the last droplets of rain, pattering down against the sodden earth. Heavy. Impending. Amaranth's gaze weighed just as heavily, devouring the landscape that was a twisted mixture of peaceful and ominous, her lavender gaze a deep and tumultuous storm. It was as if the rage and ire of the weather had been transferred deeply into her very bones, mingling with the coils of her rotten core.

But as the breeze sighed, a familiar scent brought respite. Vanilla and pine.

Gaze shifted, lithe golden neck swiveling as her unreadable gaze set upon the familiar, larger frame of her herbalist sister. A sister who was clearly on some level of a spiritual mission, her dilated amethyst gaze swirling and loaded with intent. A root, familiar and potently aromatic, lingered within those sharp canines of the other ... and it quickly became clear that Harper intended to steal Amaranth away on this spiritual journey with her. "Come, journey with me." Amaranth rose from her position against the edge of the lake, the imprint of her body blurring in the mud as she stepped closer to Harper. A brow lifted gently as she noted the tone and tenure of Harper's voice, that heavy accent far less heady ... her voice far higher and far more ethereal than her natural state.

"Take me," the woman insisted, picking up the bitter root without question and ingesting that bittersweet sensation. Anything, anything to feel alive.

Amaranth's light frame came toward Harper, gently pressing flank to flank in a more proper greeting before inquisitive eyes searched the other. It would be a moment before she would start to feel the effects of the herb, and so for now ... she simply asked: "Why were you looking for me?" Their frames were still touching, the scent of lavender and vanilla mixing in the breeze. Inquisition touched her facial expression now, a gentle and enigmatic smile tugging at the edges of her dark lips.

If nothing else, Harper would help her to feel alive. And to forget the rest.

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 It was a powerful thing, to have a trust to blind that Amaranth would bite into the root without question. Many dark things swirled in her mind as she pondered what it would take for her to have such a relationship with someone else; someone unworthy of them. And yet, she would smile sweetly as Amaranth pressed their flanks together.

 The last time they’d gone on this journey together, they rode waves within each other, and it had been the most wonderful thing. “The real question here, is why wouldn’t I be looking for you, dear friend? You are heaven and ice.” Harper cooed softly, nuzzling into her glorious golden coat with a soft sigh of relief, as if touching her made all her problems go away. Perhaps they did.

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Perhaps trust was blind - or perhaps self-preservation was simply at a minimal. She was faced with many uniquely obscure predicaments in her mind. Thoughts that perhaps would have driven her mad, had she not been a bit mad already. Was she a murderer as Kishi imagined? Or a shaman as Valeska often reminded her? Was she led by spirits and gods or was she simply corrupted enough in her mind to believe that she knew the way? Or, perhaps, even better yet, this endless spiral of thought meant nothing. That this purgatory simply trapped her in the swirling labyrinth of her own mind that would eternally damn her. Over and over and over.

Her mind felt hot as fire. And all she could do was smile that lengthy Cheshire grin in response to Harper. Their twin eyes locked in those brief moments as Amaranth's vision began to swirl and contort. Amythyst eyes dilated as that hot fire slowly melted into a pleasant simmer that gripped every fiber of her being. Her heart rate escalated, veins dilating as her body became flushed and a sweet sensation of weightlessness enveloped her. "You are heaven and ice," Harper told her, her voice oddly articulate and far more ethereal than Amaranth had remembered. Together, they would lift from this plane of existence and rise into a higher realm ... away from the trivial pursuits of her their pesky mortal bodies.

"I am nothing but chaos," the gilded woman retorted, and there could have been worry or woe in those vocals ... but no, there was nothing but firm intent behind those words. She was light. She was dark. Yin. Yang. She was heaven, hell, fire, ice. Unpredictable, misunderstood, and perhaps far too spectral to be understood by this realm or the last. For not even she knew the way in which she worked, only that she would do as her mind drove her to. She would take what she wanted, who she wanted, how she wanted ... and lose the rest in her wake.

She just, now, subtly hoped that no one she grew fond of would become hurt in the process.
This is why she told herself she could never care again.

"But you are a guiding ray," the lady continued, ignoring her invasive thoughts and tilting her head as she swung around to stand perpendicular to Harper. It was then that she lazily threw one of her forepaws over Harper's back, using that sturdier frame to support her lighter weight. There, she rested her head in Harper's thick scruff and looked out across the world. The lake was prismatic ... every droplet of rain reflecting a rainbow across the glassy surface. Every color she could have ever imagined was reflected in the surface of that lake. As she rested upon Harper, the scents that perfumed her coat got caught in Amaranth's nose ... she could smell Valeska there, that familiar cold smell. But there was someone else, too; and that scent was far more intimately ingrained. Like a tattoo on Harper's skin. She wanted to ask, but instead, all she could say was: "Teach me something in your tongue."

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 It was a wondrous thing to watch things in motion, as their eyes met in a brief moment, and it seemed as though Harper was unlocking a different part of her friend and watching as a new form of Amaranth was born. Truly, it was exciting, and Harper further wondered how it would affect her sister. Her one, true sister, and not the dark stranger of Annika.

 “I will be whatever you need me to be,” would come Harper’s smooth reply, pressing forward to nuzzle the giant golden chicken. Never more was she a golden wolf, but a chonky thing with wings and a wolf head. Harper licked over her lips, ready to pounce the delicious chonky chicken when alas.. But you are a guiding ray, and Amaranth’s flew, landing upon Harper’s backside and holding herself there.

 And while the golden goose-chicken was seeing vibrant colors in the lake, Harper was seeing an array of flowers. Roses, Daylilies, Hibiscus that formed the face of her sister, in such a beautiful display that Harper wished that she could mimic it for their garden, to show Valeska just how much she meant to Harper. And then would come Amaranth’s request to learn a russian phrase.

“Tell me your desires and I will teach you the perfect phrase.”

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The world melted into a slurry of fantastical colors, blending and coiling into one another. A melting rainbow that expanded with the wind and seemed to encompass far more colors than Amaranth had ever imagined existed. It was easy to watch the colors dance, her dilated purple eyes devouring that invisible phenomenon without but a blink to disturb the image. The colors were so vivid that she could almost taste the way the rainbow appeared on her tongue - a sweet sensation tickling the edges of her cheeks ... something fruity with an undertone of a bitter aftertaste.

Harper's fur seemed to grow taller around her face, wrapping around her muzzle and enveloping her in a blanket of comforting furs. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” the voice rumbled, coming from the very depths of Harper's soul. The warmth of her body caused the gilded woman to melt, steadily growing heavier and heavier as her slumping body lay like a rag doll atop the larger female. Was she melting? Finally, her eyes blinked, her frame stiffening a bit to catch her feet just before they fell out from beneath her. Wobbling head lifted from the bed of Harper's flowing mane, and she glanced downward toward her toes to make sure everything was still connected the way it was supposed to be. And it was. And she felt elevated, powerful, ethereal ... and giggly? Whatever it was, her worries seemed to melt away as quickly as she felt her body was.

It was freeing.
Intoxicating.

And upon Amaranth's question to learn a foreign phrase, Harper quickly offered ... “Tell me your desires and I will teach you the perfect phrase.” Amaranth's frame wavered, backpedaling a few paces as her gaze turned to devour Harper. The cogs uselessly turned beneath her empty gaze, saucer-eyes unable to filter from brain to mouth. Perhaps it was her endorphins, perhaps it was the serotonin. "How do you thank someone, but," she paused a moment, eyes flicking to the ground and getting briefly distracted by the rainbow blades of grass. Attention returned after a gruff snort, "but, just for being. Not for any particular thing. Just thank them for ... existing?"

Did that make sense?

Her head tilted, eyes lighting expectantly as she swayed in place. Perhaps her enigmatic and cryptic mastery of wordplay and illusion (hah!) would distract Harper from the fact that Amaranth was looking to genuinely complement a certain someone they both knew. Or perhaps Amaranth should have kept her mouth sewn shut ... damn these drugs.

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 It wasn’t until Amaranth spoke that Harper realized that she had been holding her breath. She released a deep exhale and turned to glance over at her golden friend with a soft smile. She enjoyed these raw moments that brought them closer together. It was not often that Harper felt so light and pure.

 She watched her friend with an arched brow and tilt of her head as she took several steps back, causing Harper to wonder if that was a quirky trait or if Harper had offended her somehow. She would merely smile with a chuckle, leaning into the woman to nuzzle her softly. “Come, take a walk with me.” Harper cooed in a sing-song voice as she would lure them away from the lake of Fate’s Respite.

 She would, of course, pause a moment to stop to glance at a gorgeous Pickerelweed. It was pretty and purple, and Harper grabbed a mouthful of these flowers to turn and shove them into Amaranth’s golden coat. “Now tell me about this tenderness that you feel towards this individual. I must know all the details if I am to give you the perfect phrase,” although let’s be honest, unless Amaranth was spending time with her new dark furred stranger-sister, there was only one wolf that Harper knew of that could also speak Russian. Yet still, she would smile innocently, and play the part. After all, who was she to ruin this moment?

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She felt light; she felt as if her entire body was levitating off of the earth. Walking on rainbows, tasting their sweetness. Her mind dispersed, exploding into a cacophonous rapture of prismatic rays and expanding outwards. It was a far different sensation than the internal immersion she often felt when insomnia controlled her. Those were dark times where her mind would become twisted and feral, where she found the very darkness that she had been born from and became high on that evil euphoria. But this ... this time with Harper, with Valeska, Buckeye, Elysium ... it made her feel different. It brought out parts of her that she had never known existed. That she had shunned from existence because they were too vulnerable. Too weak.

And now she feared displaying weakness in front of Harper.
She feared this fragile piece of her would reveal itself and ...

... she feared she would crush it with her darkness.

The two walked forward, Harper a guiding beacon of blurring black and purple. Rainbow tickled at the edges of her skin, dancing against her darker frame. Amaranth was immersed inside of herself but watched with curious eyes as Harper plucked the fluffy purple foliage from a nearby bush and brought them over. As purple as their eyes, an emotive flower that Harper gently placed between those flowing golden tendrils of her coat. Harper worked with gentle precision, and Amaranth melted slightly against her warm touch. Eerie vocals instructed her to elaborate on her feelings. Elaborate? On feelings? It was a foreign idea ... Amaranth would rather greedily horde everything she thought was beautiful, steal it away, and keep it forcefully by her side with sharp fangs. And if they left, she preferred to forget them. To replace them.

But that wasn't how she felt about Valeska.

Was it?

"Tenderness," Amara replied softly, apathy touching her vocals as she stared mindlessly into the mess of flowers and fur that stole her attention. "I don't know how to explain it," she replied honestly, her voice unusually soft ... chiming, beautiful, innocent. Lavender gaze lifted to land in that deep purple pool of those twin eyes. "I just want them ... her ... to stay." Her eyes remained fixated upon Harper, a threatening fire burning somewhere deep beneath this odd, angelic innocence. And that was when she realized that ... perhaps she'd dug herself into a hole far deeper than she'd be able to get herself out of. Perhaps she'd dug her own grave. And now, she would just have to trust Harper with this weakness that she'd shared. With this admission.

"We can talk about something else," she offered suddenly, uncomfortable with the weight that pulled her chest toward the ground. Like a magnet. She need not burden Harper with this when she knew not how to handle the burden herself.

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 For someone who knew close to nothing about relationships, including those without romantic ties, it seemed that Amaranth had come to her for advice. Was this some sort of new development of their friendship, or had Amaranth selected her because of her relation to the one in question? How was it that Valeska had so many wolves wrapped around her little paws, yet she was blind to them? Or did she truly only have eyes for that sod? An ear flickered within the silence now, a sad smile about her lips. Valeska, the heartbreaker, had a nice ring to it, but alas, Harper did not want to set her friend up for failure.

 “Вы вонючий лось — You are a smelly moose.” Harper would say, at last. It was happiness that Harper cared about. Amaranth had not come to Harper for her judgement, like Valeska had so many moons ago. She wanted everyone and everything to be happy, so that she could slip away unnoticed, into the darkness of the red sea, where she knew that she would be welcomed amongst total strangers.

 “The best way to explain anything is the raw way. Be honest. Be open, be completely raw.” Harper would say softly, licking over her lips. “I do not know where her heart lies, but I pray - and mind you, praying is not something I do lightly - that it is within you, my dove. If it is not, I shall take you with me when I go.” Harper would say with an idle shrug of her shoulder, turning to lick her friend on the nose as she paused to sniff at a gorgeous Plumeria flower.

 And when Amaranth offered to talk about something else, Harper would smile as she would add, this too, to Amaranth’s coat. “Why is emotion hard for you?” Not quite something else, but at least it was no longer about her sister.

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For as much as the woman would fumble and folly over the intricacies of her own mind and the complexities of emotion and feeling, Harper was patient. Those deep purple eyes radiated with depth and eternal understanding, somehow absorbing Amaranth's gush of uncharacteristic behavior like an eager sponge. Luckily, for the eerie woman, there was no malicious intent in her friend ... there was no intent to take this sign of weakness and twist it around her neck and strangle her with it. The gilded woman had not realized how tight her chest had become, her own anxiety nearly strangling herself, and she forced a rough exhale of rugged breath to slide from betwixt thin-lined lips.

“Вы вонючий лось,” — you are a smelly moose Harper whispered finally, the foreign words tickling the delicate inner furs of Amaranth's reclined ears. The intonations were so unusual, and Amaranth could nearly see the way they whispered so easily off of Harper's tongue in the morning light. They were as bouncy as the raindrops and as intricate as the swelling rainbows that shot across the sky. "Vy ... vony..chi... los," she repeated weakly, ears pressed forward as she inadvertently —and poorly— called Harper a smelly moose in their native tongue. Naivety led her to smile, thinking she was repeating some unfathomably deep expression of her internal gratitude. "Вы вонючий лось," — you are a smelly moose she said again, eyes diverting to her feet as she repeated the phrase a couple more times to give her tongue some practice around the unusual words.

Harper spoke once more, her words so uncharacteristically smooth as they slipped easily from her altered tongue. Amaranth couldn't tell if the drugs were making her hear Harper more clearly, or perhaps if the drugs were giving Harper new clarity. Either way, it was fascinating; her friend was full of new and boundless knowledge. And right now, she held Amaranth's fragile heart very close to her furry brown bosom.

It felt uncomfortable to have her guard lowered.
Her wall breaking down.

But she didn't shy away, not yet.

Harper offered her advice, willing for her to be honest —raw. Her tongue ran over her fangs as the very word sparked something carnal within her. Raw, yes, raw was easy. Honesty, perhaps, was where the problem lingered. "I'll hold your advice close," she mused gently, blinking her dilated amethyst eyes in Harper's direction. A coy smile danced across her delicate lips as she levitated forward, paws floating over the rocky terrain as she came to press her forehead gently into Harper's larger shoulder. "Thank you, my friend," she purred, voice tangling within those dark and delicate furs. She relaxed into the moment, enjoying every second of it until —

“Why is emotion hard for you?” The words radiated in the air, and as Amaranth breathed, she felt as though she inhaled the entire question. Processed it. And swallowed it —hard. Golden forehead peeled off of Harper's shoulder, and purple eyes met purple. That strange veil had returned to gloss over her eyes, to protect herself once again. Her mouth parted thoughtfully as if to speak truth to her friend ... but the words caught in her throat. And as she closed her heavy eyelids, flashes of memory came through. Flaming golden eyes, a searing smile through crimson fur, a flood of water burying her. The screams of her siblings. Her own screams inevitably becoming an even louder, screaming silence.

She didn't want to talk about it. She would never want to talk about it.
This was where she would recoil.

"Some of us are just born different. Less blessed," she began as her eyes reopened, swirling enigmatically. Unreadable once more. "Or perhaps more blessed, depending on how you look at it." Shoulders lightly shrugged, a playful smile now pulling at her lips. She knew she was right —it was easier, sometimes, to feel nothing at all. Then, you could enjoy life when it was in front of you ... and never miss things when they went away.

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Oh, the Russian language had never sounded as smooth as it had, coming out of those golden, delicious lips. Oh, she had never been so proud. Yet, her heart cringed as she was swept away by a hungry red wave of emotion; an emotion that Harper would forever be familiar with, as if the emotion itself was Harper’s biggest demon. Jealousy and envy.

Amaranth felt so strongly for her sister, that she had wanted to speak something special in their mother tongue; she wanted to learn their language. Oh, how Harper had desired this moment, too; to have someone who cared for her in such a way that they, too, wished to speak her language. Though none did; not even the members of this pack had desired such. What a pity.

And yet, Harper knew this, and taught Amaranth that exact phrase. Perhaps she would have taught Amaranth something actually meaningful had the sisters been on actual talking terms, had Valeska been… well, been more like Harper. That would never be, though; Valeska could not hold a grudge, as she was always about forgiveness and turning the other cheek.

“Yes, yes. Very good. Perhaps tomorrow, I teach you another phrase. But now, it dinner time. Would you care to join me for dinner, my dear?” Of course, she wouldn’t take no for an answer, and thus, lead her even deeper into the jungle.

(Harper exits)

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Her darker-toned friend was kind enough to drop the persistent questions and wonderings about pesky emotions. Amaranth had never been raised to feel the way she did now — the way she felt about Valeska. It was such a wondrous, devouring feeling ... but it was pesky, too. Persistent. Like a small fly that whirred around her head, flashing past her vision and buzzing in her ears, and yet she could never reach it or stop it. Eventually, that fly would crawl right in her ear and make a home in her cursed brain, she was simply certain of it.

And what would happen then?
Would it devour her mind? Change her forever?

She could only absently wonder at the thought, her altered mind melting at the intensity of the emotion that flared up from within her core. The fly suddenly had a little face; a silver little fly with a poofed rump and burning golden eyes. And the golden woman swallowed hard, her purple eyes phasing in and out of focus as she continued to stare through Harper. Her own dying words echoed about the air, left unmet with a response as Harper's own mind wandered. It felt like minutes, hours, days before either of them moved ... and perhaps they'd both forgotten what they were doing. Perhaps they'd both sunk inward in those few moments, disappearing into the depths of their own cage-like minds before suddenly —

— "Yes, yes. Very good."

Amaranth's eyes snapped back to focus, the fly disappearing behind her mind's eye in an argent poof of smoke. She blinked in rapid succession a few times to burn the dry and blurry field from her vision as she wavered gently atop her golden stilts. Unsteady and volatile, but smiling so softly once more. Smiling something devious as her mind became comfortably numb once more ... as she became satisfied with her knew knowledge and phrase that she'd quickly stored away in her arsenal. She would use it wisely, use it raw-ly (as Harper had suggested).

But she would use it.
And destroy that fly ... for these feelings would no longer be but a puff of smoke. They would be her reality.

Her body tingled, head nodding in silence as she agreed to accompany the other wolf for breakfast/lunch/dinner (what time was it?). The drugs phased from her blood, leaving her stomach burning with acidity and nausea ... she supposed she hadn't eaten for a while. And if she was going to use this mortal body, she certainly would need to feed it. And with that, her golden paws traced after Harper, following her into the afternoon sunlight and dancing between the rainy droplets that fell like feathers from the rainbow sky.

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Exit Amaranth

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