the ruins we find will be our next throne

Jude had sat on the edges of a small pond nestled into the Reclaimed Roots. She had met so many of her kind that it was just all too glorious. She was struck with intrigue and disbelief— particularly for Mor. He felt like a fantasy reborn.

Rebirth is what many of those who needed it. Jude had been promptly searching throughout the nights where the rats and voles had hid in their burrows, remembering each one with a sharp image. 

She would cleanse the world. She would make a breakthrough. It was the better end for society's downward path— scum alike had been a hodgepodge of disappointment, but not Jude. Jude would be the shining star that had the ground walked upon for her. She would have anything that she desired- anything. 

There wasn't much she wouldn't do to get it.

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@Madmortigan - but other labyrinthians are welcome!

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 Morning sunlight cascades through the old stone doorway. The Harbinger wakes to swelling birdsong, a chorus that carries him out of his chosen den and into the burgeoning new day.

 The Wolf chose well for them. The ruins are a labyrinth all their own. Madmortigan moves through them, patrolling the outer rim of the territory, establishing markers. 

 He comes across a welcome site. “Good morning, Jude.”

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The rustling didn't cause Jude to sway. It didn't frighten her, or send chills up her spine. She simply would continue to watch as the ripples in the water would move up and down, catching the eye of her apple more than she'd intended it to. 

Madmortigan's voice passed by her, and she shifted her head ever so slightly to catch him in her peripherals. "A fine morning indeed, Mor. How're you?" she would ask out of sheer politeness, a pleasantry that had been struck in her mind. A habit. Manners should always be habit, never something less.

The ripples became larger. It was definitely an animal. Larger than her, so she wouldn't dare be an imbecile and attempt to catch it. Narrowing her bronzed eyes, the shadow of the animal looked like it had whiskers. How odd indeed.

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 “I'm well.” He replies, coming to join her at the edge of the small pond. Instead of asking her what she is watching, he looks for himself. 

 Swirling sediment makes the water a mask, but he spots a flash of oil-slick fur. 

 “I'm happy to see you're settling in.” She certainly looks at home. “I want to hear more about these...experiments of yours. Tell me your process. Show me.” 

 A glutton in all things.

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"My studies?" She'd repeat, as if she didn't believe him. No one ever wanted to hear about her studies...ever. They were quite radical to begin with.

"I study the body. The organs, particularly." Her eyes would light up, excitedly. "More importantly, what makes wolves survive? Or the latter: death." That's why she had needed her rats. She's only been gifted by bodies before, but they were old. The organs weren't fresh.

Her eyes caught on the beast in the water, "My study is complicated. Bodies decay fast, I need things fresh. Luckily, voles do for now...I suppose." She'd turn to Madmortigan, posing him with the same question. 

"What is it that you study?"

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 A ruthless and innovative soul alights before him, the offered details as good as grace notes in an anticipated masterpiece. 

 “I'm greedy.” The Harbinger admits. “I study it all.” A quintessential renaissance man - ever-evolving, ever pushing the boundary of his own capabilities. 

 “But first thing's first.” He quips, daring to come up beside her, his mouth close to the shell of her ear. “You deserve better than vole. Come, let's find something.”

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It was a safe assumption to make that Jude was in awe by Madmortigan. He was clearly a man of many talents, each one that Jude could find herself fawning over. He was someone who she wanted to impress. 

So when the man approached her ear, a shiver curled up her spine. 

Had she really deserved better? She supposed such if Madmortigan deemed it to be true. His opinion mattered to her. More than she'd ever admit, but her eyes would tell all. "Oh—" Her voice caught in her throat. "Okay." She decided it then that she would follow him. 

Follow him anywhere, perhaps.

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 When he moves their muzzles brush and he angles his gaze back towards the stream, guiding her to look with him.

 There, another silken ribbon of movement swirls the murk - not a beaver or some unfortunate drowning thing, but an otter. 

 “They're quick, and they have a meaner bite than you think.” Madmortigan notes, tail swishing lightly with anticipation. “But I believe we're up for the task.”

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Jude was stunned as Madmortigan's muzzle brushed against her own, frozen at the unexpected contact. Her pupils would largen at his stark appearance, brawn and intelligence weeping at the surface of his facade. Jude was enamored at the way he moved; she'd been studying it for some time now. His moves were certain, which made her certain. He talked with grace, which encouraged her to do the same.

The unformidable bond that splintered in her chest welded a hole into her heart, ever so slowly. Her mind was distracted now, the dire want to make him impressed consumed her wholly, and fully. A blanket of comfort enraptured her with warmth. 

She shook her head, looking to where he was standing. "Will you help me?" She'd ask innocently, looking up to him to him with widened eyes, eyelashes battering against her browline. Jude didn't realized she was doing it, entirely. She was amazed that he wanted to see her studies and so she could show her magic. 

She would wonder if he held magic, too.

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 “I will.”

 The otter surfaces, the remnants of a crawfish clutched in its dexterous paws. Too preoccupied with its own meal, it fails to notice the hunters along the shore. 

 “Come, we won't catch it in the water.” Slipping into the lush undergrowth that borders the stream, Madmortigan slithers through the algae and muck, flanking the shallow edge should the unfortunate creature try to escape. 

 The otter drags itself from the water, body gleaming as it hops onto the beach. “Kill it.”

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Jude was enamored as the male had dragged the otter from the waters edge, something so flimsy and nimble that simply bowed to the strength of his jaw. He could imagine herself doing the same at some point.

He had tasked her to kill it. She did it willingly. A quick end to the life, a small whimper leaving its lips, but nothing more. It didn't struggle, just laid there. It was old— she could tell. Grey fur grew along it's spine. It didn't stand a chance against her. 

"Would you mind..." Her eyelashes fluttered, "Cutting it open for me? Down the center." Her shoulder touched his. Something small, yet something that she would remember. She could feel this moment burn into her mind and she allowed it gloriously.

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 Jude attacked with ready swiftness and the Harbinger reveled in the zeal of her obedience. Madmortigan bowed his head over the fallen animal, its life brought to end without fanfare or theatrics. “Emundavimus in nomine Lupi. — We have cleansed in the name of the Wolf.”

 Their shoulders brushed and Madmortigan angled his body so their pelts could mesh as well, madness mingling with madness to create something bloody and sweet. When she spoke it was a question, not a demand, but Madmortigan carried out the task in earnest.

 He chewed a dainty hole into the otter's chest flesh. Hooking his canine into the puncture, he tore, hitching his head and splitting the skin in a haphazard butterfly. 

 The otter lay splayed and spread before them, the earth beneath it turning the color of rust. “It's beautiful.”

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The woman would watch as he bowed his head towards the bleeding otter, muttering words of an origin that she could only guess. She knew only the key phrases from her own language: in nomine lupi. In the name of wolf.

"You speak...a tongue that is similar to my own." the admiration that the young maiden held only bloomed into a fuller demeanor, eyes filling with stars as she looked up to him. He must've been incredibly educated. Incredibly talented just as she was. She had met a match.

He'd done what she'd proposed, her heart filling with utmost joy. She'd look down, and marveled at the ruby-filled creature. It was beautiful. Jude's eyes widened as she took an eager step before it, beginning to work her magic. She'd start with the flap of skin that was in the way, discarding of it timely. She'd dig through the mountainous pillage of organs, looking for a specific pair. Pair.

She'd found it!

Her nose dug through the body before her teeth, ever so gently, scraped the pair of organs. She'd drag them out, the skin and muscle tearing in the process. Blood covered her muzzle, but she hadn't minded it. It never had. The woman would turn before Madmortigan, dropping her nose to the ground and placing the organs there. "It was already dying," she would say, studying the state of them. "It's coloration is brown— they should be coral." 

Jude panted, getting a more closer look. "If you smell them, it should smell rotten. Almost as if you can taste the fungi on your tongue." She was entirely enamored with her own work. "It's good that it was cleansed."

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 Jude dismembered the creature with all the excitement of a child and all the studious zeal of a genius. Madmortigan admired her, captivated by brutality and beauty alike.

 She showed him how the wretched creature had begun to rot, a living corpse, its heart a thrumming timer counting down to the end. “The Wolf knew it to be unworthy.” By carrying out His will they had carried out their very own. 

 “Show me more. Take out its heart.”

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Jude nodded in response to Madmortigan's words. The otter had been unworthy of the gift of life, simply put. It would have had a much slower death than the one it would've been given, so Jude had done the right thing. 

She'd look curiously to him as he'd wonder about the animals heart, but pay no mind to it. She did what he asked without hesitation. Her paws moved with haste, clamping around the base of the otter's body once more. Her nose, devout and twitching, etched through its open skin, searching for the central organ. It took her a moment, huffing in the impatient edifice of her own failing movements, but no less she had found her prize. 

Jude's jaw was delicate as he wrapped around the muscle. She brought it out, the soft color of rust painting her face. As gently as she could, she held the muscle against the rock terrain, putting it before Madmortigan's feet. As she lifted her head, she hadn't realized how close he was. Her nose would brush past his chest, and she pulled it back quickly. She didn't blush, and simply stared at him. The woman would turn back to look at the organ at his feet. "I haven't been able to study the heart well. It dies very quickly once it stops beating blood to the body."

 

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 He felt the gentle brush of her nose against his chest as she laid the heart at his feet. The offal wept on the pebbled earth, turning the stones to rust.

 Madmortigan dipped his head and began to eat. 

 Teeth scissored through the rubbery flesh, worrying the gristle, the blood gushing up against his gums.

 He left her the other half. “Tell me of your life before this one. Where did you grow up? How did you come to acquire this fascination for how the body works?”

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Jude watched as Madmortigan devoured half of the heart whole; the movement caught her in awe as she found herself staring. She realized she did that a lot, and corrected herself. She shook her head lightly, taking a step back from him. Jude didn't want to crowd him, or look weird. Weird. That's all she's ever been called.

He'd nudge the other half of the organ towards her, but she was more entranced on him at the moment. "I grew up past the mountains in a convent who worshipped a God I dejected." She'd grumble the words. "They believed in...faith over knowledge, whereas I disagree. To have faith, you must achieve knowledge." She took a soft bite of the flesh of the heart, blood spilling around her mouth.

"An eagle split a fish in two before my eyes and picked out the parts it found disgusting. I, too, wanted to be able to do that. I was inspired." She didn't finish the heart, yet, as she was too busy telling her story. Jude didn't find it weird, she found it fascinating; the taste. "I brought the idea to my parents, siblings, but they shamed me. Shunned, spat, and called me names that I would never wish upon someone else..." She spat the words. Hissed them like a venomous snake as the memories resurfaced. 

"All because I didn't bow to a God I didn't believe in." Jude would scoff, swallowing the rest of the heart whole. Blood dribbled down her chin as she settled on her hind legs, sitting a foot away from Madmortigan. She wondered if he actually cared of her origins. "They deterred me. Called me weird and destroyed my specimens. They left a cold mark on me, tampering with my confidence. I knew then that I had to leave, and then..."

Jude inhaled softly, looking up to his indigo eyes. "You found me."

 

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 Jude was quite unlike any woman he had met before. Though she had her darker proclivities, she wasn't as reckless as his sister nor as delicate as so many others who wrinkled their nose at some of the Order's grislier tasks. 

 Wholly unique and confident in her own capabilities, Madmortigan found himself admiring her. For a she-wolf still in the throes of her youth, she knew what she wanted and what it would take to get her there. 

 “You stayed.” And he was glad.

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