all wrongs do me right

Set directly after this thread. @Valeska 

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Having left Northfall, the duo escorted themselves down the slick mountain pass and deep into the fog. It swallowed their bodies in one swift, otherworldly gulp. Amaranth's mind was as hazy as the landscape, shrouded in a mist that was equally as dense. But there was something there, something buried deep beneath the fog that burned a hole in her chest — as hot as fire.

There was heavy, palpable silence ... and as they walked slowly, Amaranth would occasionally flip her tail to slide along Valeska's side, her amethyst eyes peering at her as if to search for elucidation. It wasn't like Valeska to be so ... quiet. "So—" the golden woman hummed, finally breaking the silence that had wrapped around them more tightly than the strangling fog. The ocean roared ominously in the distance.

Her head tilted softly as her body slowed to a halt. The mist seemed to rise around her, tendrils coiling around her limbs that seemed to come to life with her swaying movements.

"Did you feel it?"

Amaranth certainly hoped so, because she needed Valeska to put words to whatever this feeling was.

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She did.

It was most a peculiar encounter, she thought. As they trudged onward toward gods-knew-where, her once-shining coat hung heavily from her stocky form (when it wasn't actively being whipped into a frenzy) while droplets of moisture clung to each strand like individual weights. Still, at least the air was cool, and she enjoyed the scent of brine that lingered on the breeze. She didn't often get to smell the ocean.

“I also felt... whatever it was,” she ventured carefully, not wanting to seem too excited. In reality, every fiber of her being hummed with an energy she could not explain, a sense of divine purpose that had no reason or form; whatever it was, it had begun with Krakarak and led them to Northfall. To Ragnar.

But who was he? Of what importance?

“I wish I could ask the gods - it is unclear, as thick as the mist that surrounds us, yet you can smell it - taste it - like the salt-air.”

Waves crashed against rocks unseen, and in a way, it was comforting.

“Do you have any ideas?”

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So Valeska felt it too. Amaranth's eyes glittered with a carefully veiled excitement, the warmth of fire rising from the pit of her chest and lighting those amethyst gems. But much like Amaranth, Valeska had no tangible way to explain it. Perhaps that's because this feeling was more than something material.  And as such, perhaps they would need to rely on immaterial methods to attain immaterial answers.

“I wish I could ask the gods -”

Valeska would begin, just as the cogs began to whir in Amaranth's mind. Of course! The gods. The spirits. (The imagination, really.)

“Do you have any ideas?”

Amaranth's body twitched, as if shocked by lightning; she was suddenly but a blaze of gold in the thick, gray atmosphere. "The gods, Valeska, what an idea!" A chiming laugh erupted from dark lips, the sound somehow foreboding as the little occultist drew together an idea. "Come, we can ask them, just need to find a few ..." She trailed off, paws busy now digging and shuffling the sand as she danced around the desolate beach and began to gather totems. Driftwood, bits of sand, and husks of shells; anything, perhaps, that could serve them spiritual energy.

The woman gathered up what she could, bringing things one by one to a central pile and spreading them out neatly upon the sandy table. Finally, she turned to pluck a dark feather from the golden tendrils of her coat, gently placing it at the center of the pile. The air around was palpably still, and even the fog seemed to hold its breath now. Amaranth seemed to glow against the gloom, an ethereal contrast of gold and pale white, those piercing amethyst eyes now turning their attention directly to Valeska.

"Ask them," she encouraged eerily.

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'The gods, Valeska, what an idea!'

Well, it was always her idea. She didn't understand what was so unusual about her suggesting them this time out of the other fifteen-million-billion mentions, but at any rate, it seemed to click for once and she felt a little thrill.

Amaranth liked her suggestion!

Much as a tiny, meaningless victory, it never got old.

Humming merrily, the mood shifted as Amaranth busied herself in a whirlwind of activity, rushing about to collect strange odds and ends that would ultimately come together to form...

A pile?

As the last feather was placed reverently in center, Valeska couldn't help a worried expression creeping up across her face. Was this something her mate just suddenly conjured up as a means, or had she practiced this before? Was this how she preferred to communicate with the gods? 'Perhaps,' thought the High Priestess, 'I might learn something from her...'
Given the golden woman's enthusiasm, it must be very effective.

“So what do I do - just - ask?” she said hesitantly, glancing back at the assortment of trinkets.

“Okay - ah, Houtu, Sacred Wolf Mother, First of the Five!” she called out with a loud voice, her words carrying across the wind, “I wish to know what it was we felt today with Ragnar! What purpose will he, will Northfall, serve?”

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Knight of Cups, upright. The Hierophant, upright. The Empress, upright.

---

The distinct level of discomfort felt by Valeska was all but lost on Amaranth as she awaited her mate's words to touch the air. “So what do I do - just - ask?” Amaranth tilted her head, almost impatiently ... almost. But it was certainly impossible to feel any sort of negative emotion toward her silver counterpart, so she nodded again, remaining silent.

Valeska's words rung out then, through the mist and slicing through the palpable thickness of the air. It shattered the silence. And as she spoke, the wind seemed to flutter with animation, pushing the heavy fog and bringing everything around them to life. The silver tendrils of the fog wrapped tightly around her body, compressing her ... she could feel it. Feel everything. It squeezed the very fire right out from her chest, her breathing heavy and as hot as fire. Houtu was brewing around them, the exhale of her breath heavy on them as the very atmosphere awoke. Amaranth's eyes opened wide, as if startled by how well her idea seemed to be working seeing far into the future.

She turned her gaze toward the trinkets, watching the way they flittered and danced. The driftwood stirred, the shells rattling ... and the feather lifted to float away on the breeze, spinning past Valeska's face with a little too much emphasis. It seemed to sparkle as it flickered by.

Amaranth's gaze flickered in and out of focus as (imaginary) sounds and voices whispered to her, telling her everything. (Of course, everything was all in her head.) And then the world was silent again. The wind died down, the feather no longer in the center of the circle and the mess of trinkets disheveled by the wind gale.

And she turned to look directly at Valeska's ...

... belly.

Eyes still wide.

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To say she was spooked was an understatement. Valeska wasn't sure what she had expected, exactly, but certainly nothing as tangible and severe as what had just occurred - the wind stirred into what seemed like sentience, having a life of its own as it picked up and carried the small items into their proper positions. The little wolf flinched as the sparkling feather - it was holy shit sparkling - floated benignly past her face, tickling her cheek as it coasted by and swirled around her form.

Whispers. Voices. Nothing she could directly make out - a snatch of a sentence, here and there, maybe a cryptic phrase - then she felt something stir deep within herself, and tears welled up in her eyes without uttering a single word.

Houtu gave her a feeling. The feeling she had stuffed down for so long, in the back of her mind, always present but never seen; her greatest desire which could never be.

She could not blame Amaranth. Given the choice between her wish and her mate, she would choose Amaranth every day, in every life she would ever live. There was no question. But Houtu found it, she saw it and brought it up, and Valeska choked back a sob.

What did it mean? Why did the great All-Mother choose to hurt her so?

“A-Amaranth?” she suddenly asked, sniffling, realizing her mate was prone next to her. “Are you alright?” Bending down, Valeska offered a few reassuring licks to the nape of her golden neck, though whether it was truly to comfort Amaranth or herself seemed debatable. “Did you... hear them?”

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She hadn't realized she'd fallen to the earth, her golden body splayed in the stygian sands and her nose peering upward at the form of her now-sobbing mate. Wait, sobbing? Did she not hear what Houtu had said?

Valeska's face leaned down through the fog, finding comfort in the golden locks of Amaranth's fur, and the lanky witch used this time to right herself. Without hesitation, her chest pressed against Valeska, offering stability to the weakened form of her mate. Unlike Amaranth, clearly, Valeska was not used to the might of these visions — perhaps that was why she was crying? Was she just overwhelmed by the power and display of it all?

“Did you... hear them?”

What a silly question. But again, Valeska was just learning.

"Of course I did but ... did ... you?" Her body peeled back a bit, gauging for a response as her words lost their usual grace and stumbled over themselves. There was an unusual hesitation in the lilt of her voice, her teeth clacking clumsily over one another as she remembered Valeska's tears. If Northfall was only to bring sadness ... then she would want nothing more of it. But ... that was not what Houtu seemed to promise in the vision. No, it was full of light, and joy, and ... and many tiny, wiggly paws and tails. And so many eyes, looking at them hungrily.

Maybe Amaranth should have been crying.

"She told me your dream would come true, Valeska." And then she paused again, this time aiming her gaze more purposefully toward Valeska's belly. "Our ... dream?" The hiccup returned as the words fell out of her mouth. If it was something Valeska wanted, so too would Amaranth want it; as unexpected as it was and as horrible as she would be at it.

"I'm not sure how, but Ragnar is the key." Oh, foolish girl. There was a sincerity in the innocence of her words, for the reality of what Ragnar's role in this would be was lost on her simple mind. "Maybe Northfall holds some sort of ... magic? They do have familiars, afterall." Her mind was an endless faucet now. Wait. Was she still talking? Or was her mind just that loud?

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Of course, even though Amaranth was the one to collapse in a heap, somehow Valeska found herself the one being soothed and caressed instead. Stupid, stupid. She blinked back her tears, trying to regain her composure enough to talk about what they had just experienced; it was not her mate's job to fix the petty woes of her heart. Selfish.

The wind had died down to its usual gusting, and no longer was the air enchanted with spirits. The mist returned in its formless void, rather than shooting up and arcing circles around the pair as it had only moments ago - whatever had occurred was over, though it seemed neither knew exactly what it was.

Had the spirit of Houtu truly come to them?

"She told me your dream would come true, Valeska."

Valeska's eyes widened.

Amaranth shifted her gaze to her belly, soft and white and plush.

"Our... dream?"

She gasped audibly, unbelieving. It wasn't possible - there was no way. Did she wish for the same thing? And oh, Houtu... the All-Mother wasn't trying to cause distress! She had been trying to tell Valeska of the gift she would bestow upon them, but she was too stupid, too ignorant to hear the words-

But Amaranth could.

“Y-you are sure?” the High Priestess choked, tears flowing freely this time. “I cannot believe it. Here? Ragnar? Krakarak, he must have been sent by the gods - oh! Amara, if it is true, it will bring us such joy!”

She, too, was innocent. Unknowing.

“And that was all? Just that he is the key? Is there something we must do, does he know?”

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Valeska's demeanor shifted, those dried tears of sadness flipping to something more joyous and hopeful. Amaranth's mouth softened into a mellow smile, unable to hide her own feelings. The warmth. The ... whatever it was that she felt in the very core of her being. It was affectionate, it was soft, it was perfect. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. It was her Valeska.

“Y-you are sure?”

Amaranth nodded again, still smiling warmly and spilling all of that geniality over Valeska's weeping frame. Of course, it was a bold prediction — one that held no basis in truth. But Amaranth knew she was right. She was more certain than she'd ever been about anything before. Perhaps it was her love for Valeska that drove her certainty. Or perhaps it was naivety.

“... it will bring us such joy!”

"See? Sylvie isn't so bad, hmm?" Amaranth's eyes glittered with a bit of playful jest, knowing that Valeska was likely a bit sore about all of the time Amaranth was spending with her new feathered daughter. However, without Sylvie, there would have been no Krakarak. And without Krakarak, no Ragnar ... and obviously, Ragnar and Northfall were the missing piece in this mystery. The piece that would bring them their ... their family.

“And that was all? Just that he is the key? Is there something we must do, does he know?”

"I'm not sure he has seen the vision, but I believe we must have a ceremony — a celebration with Ragnar and Northfall. With many herbs to allow the magic to flow. Ragnar believes in the gods, yes? The Norse? Perhaps they are more like Houtu than we know, and maybe that is how we present it to him." Wow, did Amaranth actually remember something? She smiled again, her golden plume waved gently behind her, shooing away the mist. Above them, the moon began to yawn, peeking out from behind the clouds and threatening to disperse the magical mist and provide the women below with a sense of clarity.

The ocean roared softly in the background, mumbling in delight.

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Like cool rain, Amaranth washed over her in gentle waves, banishing all thoughts of doubt and sorrow. Even the way she looked at her was indescribable, an ecstasy, a reprieve from the troubles of the day; not so much her rock, but her core. The bone-pit from Ruhe seemed so far in the past. It was a lifetime ago - in every sense of the phrase. It was another life, in another world.

Yet their love still managed to follow them here, against all odds.

'See? Sylvie isn't so bad, hmm?'

Love would be able to endure a slap, surely. Yet she refrained.

“Sylvie,” she cleared her throat, “Is different, and we will not speak of the devil, lest it find us.”
They had left the fledgling behind in Northfall, per Sylvie's wheedling request, presumably to continue verbally beating the everliving shit out of Krakarak for fudging the details so badly to her young, hopeful ears. They would no doubt be able to repair their relationship given a few more lashings, since Krakarak seemed unusually fond of the little raven (in spite of her foul personality) - it wouldn't be long before they were up to no good again. Valeska did not relish the thought.

Amaranth's bell-tone voice rose above the waves, suggesting a ceremony to present to the great King. Valeska turned the thought over in her mind and agreed; the man was religious, and if the gods willed it, they would be able to speak to him through his own visions of the deities.
They would bring him roots, herbs, fragrant gifts and perhaps a hare or two as sacrifice for the great powers they would be summoning to carry out such a deeply important spiritual matter - whatever it would turn out to be. “I agree,” she said quietly, looking out into the fog, “I think it would be good to hold such a ceremony for him, so that he, too, may see. Maybe Houtu will speak to him as well, in spite of his gods-of-different-names.”

Valeska gave her mate a gentle nuzzle, taking a moment to softly bury her nose within that glorious nape and breathed deeply.

“Shall we begin gathering?”

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Valeska’s quip at Sylvie was not lost on Amaranth, but the golden woman met it with a devilish grin. Tail waved, her body feeling oddly energized despite the hanging black mist that once again settled around them. For there was purpose now. There was a message — one that Amaranth had willed from the very most distant energies of this planet. 

She felt powerful.

But as her mind wandered, pondering deeply on the new powers that she possessed, Valeska once again distracted grounded her. That touch would pull her back to reality, as she felt Valeska’s muzzle slip beneath her chin. The golden woman softened, despite the burning fire that still lingered beneath amethyst lenses. 

“Shall we begin gathering?” 

For a moment, the pair stood, pressed against one another. Silver and gold outlined in a thin outline of fog and mist. Standing on the precipice of their new journey together. 

“Let’s not waste any time,” she would exhale, her breath coiling around Valeska’s silver ears. And then, with a soft flick of her tail and a coy smirk, the golden woman trotted toward the valley … eager to find the … ‘materials’ necessary for the next steps of their adventure.

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Exit Amaranth

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