Give a little time to me or burn this out.

She did not at once return to the sacred forest. Instead, Maral spent a long night and most of the following day lurking beneath the wisteria, eager for quiet to lick her wounds and mull over the incident that'd drove her to seek solitude.

There was an unsettled feeling in her gut, like a sickness - or the threat of nausea. The stained Déorwine knew she had to go back and face her mother, knew the Queen would expect an explanation that she'd failed to provide the afternoon before. Maral fretted over in for many hours, unsure if she could lie through her teeth by apologising for actions she absolutely did not regret.

When she did finally leave to turn toward home, the shadow moved slowly and carefully. Her body ached and her head still swam, and her twisted ankle continued throb. She crossed into the crown and maintained her usual silence, nose working to detect any sign of @Célnes.


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But Celnes was everywhere. The forest was her domain ; every inch of it she would wander, and would always seem to know what was happening and who was entering. It was a rather quick moment to find her daughter, who was silent during the ordeal of young clashing. Faust didn't really seem to understand what was happening besides being attacked by Edith ; and even then.. She knew quite well how that unblamed a mere' child was, compared to her more devouted, religious daughter. She was getting a bit too much to handle.

The Queen prowled through the forest, a finding of this small nightwalker of Elkshire, "Maral."

Her silence wouldn't lure her away this time.

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Emotions remained as raw as the day prior; Maral was unprepared. She lifted her ears to the sound of her mother's voice, though promptly splayed them sideways as she turned to face her. The shadow regarded Célnes quietly, coolly, an air of anxiety about her that she tried to hide yet betrayed with the sweep of her tongue over her upper lip.

She said nothing. She simply stood with her tail limp between dark hocks and mahogany eyes lowered, and awaited her judgement.


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The girl looked at her so.. Meekly. The Queen could only sigh ; she did not think she raised the girl like so, but perhaps her due negligence resulted in such a nature that reminded her of Vermillion. She had thought she was more like the gray son who lost his way, but she remained firm on her pathway as a Deorwine.. Alas it seemed the other would view her as a monster, "You are not in trouble."

Celnes sat, looking at her. Times of comfort were bet with a stone-wall of indifference, and so the mother attempted a new, more direct tactic, "you tried to protect her, yes?" Although Maral said nothing, just at how Edith swore and cursed at the two, it was easy to make an estimate guess of what had transpired.

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Having always felt inferior to her siblings, Maral had never been a girl to answer back. She was a creature who avoided conflict, knowing how she paled in comparison to sisters who outshone her in every way, though would not hesitate to hold her own. Edith thought herself more beautiful, more devout, better learned - and she would not be wrong.

But Maral could no longer stomach her arrogance.

Tension remained in the shadow's muscles as she stood, awaiting a reprimand that did not come. Despite the Queen's promise of not issuing punishment, suspicion remained within the white-kissed youth. She blinked up briefly, saw what she thought looked like disappointment in her mother's features, and furrowed her brow.

She nodded stiffly. “And I'd do it again.”


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Contrary, Celnes smiled. Although religious was to be there ; her whole purpose of changing it and warping it was so that her kin would be loyal to family, and more to family then any High Elk. But it seemed she had failed with her eldest, the more beloved of them all. Rather then take that above all is family, they resulted to shaming their younger siblings then to protect them as she so tried to teach. Guardians, she had dubbed them ; and yet the one who took on that role was the one they were supposed to 'protect' and stray to the right path.

Those who were stained with white seemed to be heading toward the path she wanted them to ; while Edith and Calhoun.. Were venturing toward one altogether. Away from family. Already, had they abandoned her once.

Only Warwick, remained true.

"You are right to protect your sibling. As family, we are supposed to protect those who may stray from the High Elk's light, those who may do wrong against others, and our family. Although.. It seems those who who were supposed to be protected, shine brighter under Him." One that wasn't suspected to do wrong was Aldritch who strayed away and cursed the eldest so ; internally she had to disown him for any issues he may cause and ah, figure out how to deal with so.. But as a mother too, she was slightly saddened to know of his betrayal. At least, how Warwick phrased it to be.

"Perhaps Edith was strayed a bit by the Nightwalkers.. Tendencies."

Dirty, she thought.

"I am proud of you."

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Maral flexed her claws, felt the gritty earth beneath the pads of her toes. She prepared to brace herself for a lashing by the Queen's tongue despite the words she'd spoke: "you are not in trouble."

She wanted to believe her. She wanted to trust in that promise. She sucked in a breath through flared nostrils and held it for a long moment, trying desperately to reign in the whirlwind of emotion that stirred within her. Maral, having witnessed her mother's withdrawal from the newest Déorwine litter, prepared in her mind a way to bite back should she be faced with reprimand. It was your job to protect Faust, not mine, she wanted to scream, but where the fuck were you!?

Much to her surprise, she was met with the opposite. Maral rose her dark gaze to boldly seek the citrine eyes of her dam, disbelief in the slackening of her jaw. She could not recall a single time in her life that she'd gained such praise, and the neglected child in her wished only to grasp for it.

She feared to reach for it might be akin to trying to catch fog.

“I don't understand,” was all that Maral could muster, voice thick with emotion that threatened to spill over. She swallowed the lump that welled in her throat.


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The other looked at her with a shock, a disbelief that brought a hum to her voice. She had thought she appreciated her enough, no? Although maybe it was a different child she was thinking of ; as Celnes often praised Warwick to the high heavens as her beloved heir. She just looked at her daughter, who was injured from fighting the trained Edith, and helping defend the other.. Her lil' daughter, Faust.

She cocked her head to one side, "You should be proud of yourself for defending family, especially the young and innocent. Only one has strayed off the path, and he has long left." she looked beyond the forest, before looking back at Maral, "family should protect each other." That was why @Edith held a stern lecture, but although in truth Celnes didn't do anything truly brutal to the blessed daughter.

But her ego was growing to something.

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She was stressed. Overwhelmed. Confused. Maral struggled to understand why her mother felt the need to voice her alleged pride for her over what'd happened the day before, when she'd made it perfectly clear how little she cared for Faust and the boys. And Aldritch! Poor, suffering Aldritch. The way her mother spoke of him, of straying from the path she'd set for them, chilled her to the bone.

She should've gone after him. She should've found him. She should've shown him that he mattered! Maral gritted her teeth to think of her last encounter with him, to recall of how frail and sickly he looked, how delusional he'd sounded.

And it hurt. Fuck, it hurt.

All this bullshit about family being important, how blood protects blood. Who the hell cared enough to save Aldritch from himself? Where was she when Edith assaulted a defenseless cub!?

Anger burned within her like wildfire, and she lifted her tearful brown eyes to shoot her dam a pointed stare. “You are never there for them,” she mustered, “they need you, and you-”

Her breath hitched. She felt as though she already knew the answer to what she wanted to ask: the Queen abandoned her babes each day because they were stained.

Imperfect.

Tainted.

Impure.

Unholy.

Unwanted.

She knew what she wanted to say - that Célnes ought to be ashamed for her poor decisionsin life - but lacked the spine to announce it out loud.


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Her little girl always sat between two emotions ; an indifference, or distressed. She never seen her smile, much less seek true enjoyment of something — even those small outings Celnes tried to take all her young individually, she was always one that seemed so uncaring to it all, until something frightened or upsetted her. It was.. Troubling, as a mother to not see her cub like so, but wasn't sure how to handle it. No matter where she took the young, and showered her with tongues of a motherly affection, it seemed nothing would work. Just like with Aldritch, and his refusal to go with her. She tried, in the beginning — and then simply gave up once it made it clear he would rather sulk in the den.

With eight whole babes, Celnes would rather focus on the ones that truly wanted to learn, the ones that would remain loyal to her. But ah.. It seemed her teachings her misdirected, for only two remained true to her. One, the eldest, and the second, was a surprise. Melrose and Rohesia were separate entities, usually hidden, and left by their own devices.

Maral looked at her with tear-stained eyes, an anger in her voice that surprised the Queen. She thought to be angry at Edith, but instead she was angry at her for the neglect of the newest brood. She hummed light, cocking her head and smiled, "then what would you like me to do?"

She gave them a den, food and the occasional affection — but it was true. Celnes is ashamed of them. She was embarassed of a night not remembered and with so, true bastards were born. She thought she was giving enough, but ah ; didn't seem Maral thought it was. So she asked..

What should she do to please the nightwalker princess?

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She loved her mother, Maral was sure to remind herself. She felt it so strongly, enough that it burned within her breast to think it, even if she hadn't shown her much in return. Still, despite her own reservation and the trauma of having been deprived of the level of affection she'd needed, in large part she still craved it.

Célnes was selfish, and her neglect of the newest Déorwine brood had strengthened the suspicion that she and her own littermates had been derived of something in their own youth. Warwick, Calhoun and Edith had been favoured, clearly, and while Maral and Vermillion had been provided for they'd never been as beloved. It hurt, to learn as children that the white upon their furs might be responsible for the love they'd been lacking. The shadow had tried to bury that concern yet it simmered deep within, fueling her anxiety and reminding her that she could never be good enough.

A rare tear escaped a dark eye as she regarded her mother's smile with anger. Maral read it as mocking, and her aching limbs began to tremble slightly. “Mother them,” she ground out, remembering how the Queen had wept on her only a short time before Faust and the boys' arrival; still, she did not understand why, “they might not be perfect, but they're yours.”


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Her children were divided ; either to hatred against her, or hatred against them. There was no line to which could draw, and maybe Warwick was the only fine-light neutrality of it all, but he acted as a surrogate father despite not even a yearling. But she could see her entire brood giving a distance, and Celnes didn't think much of it. Not until Edith, had pounced on the cub. She was unaware at the moment they knew the truth of the edited religion, where she personally switched it around — most if not all agreed to such changes or cared not. Even the most devoted cousin, perhaps silent knowing that Celnes had the true rule ; at least, so the Queen was thinking. Part of her knew she was losing the control over her children.. Even Maral, who was always unpredictable, was diving to a route she wasn't expecting.

"As are you." As she self-projecting? The Deorwine mother thought she had treated her lovingly, though not getting the reception back.. Celnes, willingly set her affection elsewhere like Warwick, who acted as a good mother's boy. Her realization of neglect greatly differed then how they say it. Leading to such confusion, especially on why they were all so stuck on either wanting to hurt the newest brood, or simply force Celnes to look at them.

They were her sins, and she did not want to.

"My child," and she reached over for an affectionate hug.

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Her mother deflected, smoothly shifting their conversation to turn focus on the shadow herself, and Maral had not been expecting it. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, willing her own emotion to save her further embarrassment, but still it brimmed and still her body trembled. Tears threatened, and the young Déorwine blinked through the mist of them when at last her gaze opened to seek the Queen's pointed features once more.

Maral saw herself in Faust. She saw a little girl whose mother didn't love her wholly as her other children, one who didn't understand. She saw a child who thought the neglect of a parent was normal, because she'd never experienced anything better. Célnes had been significantly more present throughout her own puphood, Maral had come to recall, but her presence had not always brought sunshine and sparkles. 

The embrace was met with Maral's usual stiffness, but she dipped her head to press her brow against her mother's throat as she moved to hold her. With teeth gritted, she stifled the sob that threatened to rack her frame, and willed this encounter to come to an end sooner rather than later. She was sore, hungry and exhausted - and ready to lose herself to a deep slumber.


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