devil inside

@Valeska did you miss my drama? gosh, she's the WORST.

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It had been too long. Too many sunsets — sunrises — sunsets again. Too many clouds passing by like the ticking of an eternal clock.

Amaranth paced, stumbling over her own paws. She hadn't slept since Valeska had left; her imagination would not allow it. She'd not been so starved of sleep for as long as she could remember ... and her mind was being slowly torn apart. She was buried alive within her own ideas, her own interpretations of what was going on. It had been so painful at first ... so painful until it became so numb. Until she felt nothing at all. Her Valeska was gone — her light. Her emotions, her feelings, her everything.

The only thing that kept her hanging onto any semblance of reality were the children.

They looked like Valeska. They smelt of her.
But at the end of the day, they were not her.

And at that moment she turned a bit too quickly, exhausted paws wrapping around one another. Before she could catch herself, she tripped over her own stilts, falling uselessly onto her chest and into the dirt outside of the den. A puff of dust rose up around her and she couldn't bear to lift herself again. She knew she would have to ... soon ... to go check on the children (well, to make sure they were breathing, at least). They were probably hungry, or something.

But she didn't move, not yet.

Emptiness flooded her, the edges of her vision hazy and grey.
She yearned for something. Anything.

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{Set the day of Valeska's return}

Well, at least nothing was on fire.

Valeska heaved a ragged sigh as she limped back across Elysium's borders, tenderly favoring the leg which Gro'Mash had wounded. The bleeding had stopped, though a reverberating pain still blossomed from where the blunt side of his tusk had made contact. It would heal well, but for at least a little while, she would have to slow down - something the little wolf did not look forward to at all.

As she made her way through the gently waving grasses, morning sunlight tickling the tips of her fur with its weak early rays, she gradually approached the dens and could dimly make out a familiar golden shape.

Oh, gods.

She hadn't thought about the consequences of her absence beyond the children.

Hastening her pace into an awkward sort of hop-skip, the limp, downtrodden form of Amaranth could be seen in greater detail, wallowing helplessly in the dirt like a woman cast adrift. It was obvious she hadn't been eating well (especially without Valeska to remind her), and gods only knew what state their pups were in considering their only parent was little more than a child herself - but that was just the way of things. She could not fault her.

Tears welled at the corners of her eyes as she reached her mate at last, stopping a short distance away, not wanting to startle her.

“Amara,” she called softly through lips still stained with blood, “I am sorry I left you for so long.”

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Heavy lids shut over amethyst eyes, but she did not sleep. Her mind swirled, and she was walking in the darkness. A picture began to appear in her third eye, a monochrome landscape that expanded around her. It was dark but familiar, and before she knew it, she was stepping over an endless graveyard of bones. Voices lifted from the lifeless, sun-dried bones beneath her — and they all began to scream at her, begging for attention. 'Help, help!' they murmured cacophonously, their voices somehow blaring against her eardrums despite the breathy whisper with which they sounded.

She began to panic, her limbs shuttering in a way that would translate to a few weak twitches of her corporeal form.

"Amara," came a different voice, sounding from elsewhere. It cast itself above the heaving cries of the ghosts and skeletons, and Amaranth turned toward it. From the sky, a bright beam of light cast down ... from the top of a large hill of screaming bones.

Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. And so, in her mind, she could only do one thing. And that was to run toward the voice, clambering over the biting, sharp corpses ... running and running until eventually ...

... her eyes snapped open, her body roughly clambering upward until she was sitting, hunched.

“I am sorry I left you for so long.” She gazed up, her breath catching in the middle of her throat. Valeska was there — or was she? Amaranth's heart slammed against her ribcage, the adrenaline of her dream permeating her veins. She did not know if Valeska was here ... or if her own mind was so desperate for her, that she'd conjured a figure from the depths of her desperate, fraying mind. The scent of stale blood permeated the air, clinging to the delicate white edges of Valeska's lips. "V-Valeska," she puttered stupidly. Was her wife a ghost? Was she dead? Amaranth's heart burned — she should have been there, to protect her. "Are you here? Are you —" 'alive? Hurt? Okay?' Amaranth wavered, unable to lift her weakened body from that slumped sit.

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From endless depths in the darkness, she could see Amaranth crawl her way out of the hole that had swallowed her soul. Amethyst eyes that had been listless and unseeing at last wavered, settled, then focused upon her mate, and she watched as a sudden understanding crept across the impassive features of her serpentine face.

It was almost a perfect recreation of their first encounter. How the Priestess had come upon her sallow golden form, sunken into a pile of stark-white bones cradled within a deep hollow, staring up with mystic, vacant eyes, seemingly witnessing ten thousand pasts and futures all at once before dragging herself screaming and reluctant into the present - to Valeska, to light; to love and warmth and comfort.

Unfortunately, the shining apparition she was meant to be was now a blood-caked husk, gazing out with tired, empty eyes. The fire that lay within had been put out, and only smoldering embers lay in its place.

“Yes, my love,” she said, limping forward to touch her forehead to her mate's, “I am here. I have been hurt, but it is not serious - how have you been? Amaranth, you have not eaten - you are so thin - have you had @Urszula hunt for you? What of @Mordecai, how is he? And... the children...” Valeska felt herself trail off weakly, falling to her side in exhaustion as a mound of worries and fears overcame what strength she had left. How long had it been? Four days, five? So much could have happened - had happened - in that time, she felt sick.

“Amara...” she started, tears spilling down her cheeks, “I have done something awful.”

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Valeska's ragged body limped toward her, and somehow, even though Valeska was broken ... she was still the rock. The one who would hold them up.

Their foreheads touched, and the haze drained from Amaranth's vision. Her eyes closed for a second, re-opening to embrace the fire that touched her skin. Gently, purposefully, she pressed back against Valeska. The movement was an apology, a cry of relief, a lingering touch of tenderness. Gaze re-opened, softly looking into Valeska's molten gold eyes. There was a new softness there, a dampening of that normal flame. A bubbling of ... something ...rather than a radiating golden light. Something had changed.

Questions fell from Valeska's lips like a waterfall of emotion, pouring out of her. Amaranth weakly pulled herself from her slump, finally standing herself back up upon those cumbersome mortal stilts. She heard all of those questions. She processed them. But all she could start with was — "I am so relieved. I ... I was so worried. I ... missed you." I need you.

But she knew she had to address Valeska's questions before the woman imploded. "Mordecai is recovering. The children are fine. You worry too much," she joked gently, probably lying through her teeth as she smiled weakly ... as if that were going to trick Valeska at all. "Hush, come. We need to take care of you," she continued, blinking her amethyst eyes gently as she noted all of the blood that decorated Valeska's coat.

Amaranth watched Valeska stutter and waver, her spirit and body shaking. There was something terribly wrong, and the woman wanted to know — needed to know.

"Amara ... I have done something awful.”

Amaranth blinked, curiosity mingling gently with the worry and concern that flittered behind her gaze. There was no judgment there, there never could be. All Amaranth wanted to know was ... what this awful thing was. And how it had changed Valeska.

Amaranth moved forward to wrap her neck around Valeska's in a comforting embrace. "I have never known you to be awful, Valeska." And Amaranth knew of awful wolves. She could be classified as one in many regards. Hot breath escaped her lips, her head rubbing against the side of Valeska's neck as her words slipped gently from those serpentine lips. "Whatever you did ... it will be okay." It was Valeska's choice if she wanted to share these demons. And as curious as Amaranth was, she would not force it out of her ... the least she could do was be here to support her mate and try to protect her against whatever it was that was haunting her.

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"I am so relieved. I ... I was so worried. I ... missed you."

Valeska froze, stock-still, a sudden statue in their embrace. Not for horror, or distaste - but surprise, and a sudden gaping pit in her heart that drank and drank and drank the words Amaranth had uttered. The golden woman had always been one of few words, and even fewer still of any such expressions like want and need and desire, for Amaranth was not truly any of those things.

She was mystery, enigma, contemplation, seeing beyond the material; of elevated visions, higher thought, clarity of mind. She floated through life as a ghostly apparition, never tethered to anything of earthly means, always soaring above the clouds that hung low over the commonplace and mortal.

And yet - she had so debased herself to express missing.

The silver wolf paused, shuddered, her small frame wracked with sobs unheard, and at last collapsed against her mate's soft shoulder in an ugly cry, thoroughly soaking Amaranth with her wanton tears.

“I-I-I...” she stuttered, hiccuping between breaths, “I have killed - and - and - I could not see,” she continued, choking on her own words.

“Long after he was dead, I tore and ripped and rent and stained my soul with rage, and I loved it - it felt so good, so freeing, his screams until at last he was silent, and then I still could not stop-”

Valeska heaved, but nothing came up.

“I came to and I was alone, and soaked in blood. His insides - they were everywhere around me - I was not myself. My sister, Harper, she was there the whole time, but I did not see her, Amara, I did not see anything through the blood,” she quavered. “I have committed sin - sin of the worst degree. I have sinned against the Five, I have reveled in death, I was not - not myself. Not a wolf. Not anything but a vessel for killing.”

She stared up at Amaranth's elongated face with wide, shining eyes, wet with tears and brimming with despair, unable to hold herself together. The golden woman's rock had crumbled at last, and she was but dust.

“I cannot hear the Five anymore,” she sniffed, ears pinned back. “What if... they do not forgive me?”

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Valeska's words bubbled out of her, laying her entire experience out into the open. Detailing every moment of the capture and of the moments following that. The moment where Valeska had lost herself to the battle — lost herself to rage and bloodlust.

Amaranth blinked, ever curious. Even as Valeska described bathing in the innards of the beast, not a shroud of judgment or fear passed those ethereal eyes. She only listened, watching the story unfold in her mind's eye as Valeska described it. She could see the blood — she could taste it ... smell it ... and it was almost as if she were there. Saliva pooled in the back of her throat as she remembered when she'd found her mother and nearly killed the woman on sight. She remembered well the taste of blood and the monster that rattled inside of her at the idea.

'Feed me,' it had said.

And she'd almost given in. She'd almost lost herself to some primal desire.

Not sin. But Id and Ego. Dark and light. Yin and yang.
Balance.

And Valeska had unbalanced herself by dipping her paw on the other side of the spectrum.

"Valeska," she started, only cringing slightly as Valeska gagged on the air (perhaps afraid she'd wear vomit again). "What you did was slay a creature birthed of darkness. It is only natural that it should curse you in those moments before its death — terrorize you with the same darkness and fear and anger that it bore its entire life." Amaranth imagined the darkness seeping out of the boar's decaying body and choking Valeska ... wrapping her in a veil of black that threatened the very nature of that pure soul. "The Five ... the universe ... strives to maintain balance. The darkness that left that creature's body was not erased, but transformed." Valeska was but a vessel to shepherd that darkness into a new form; perhaps something better. But it would be a painful burden to bear, especially for one like Valeska.

"They will not shun you. They will find you again, but first, you must journey to find forgiveness for yourself."

Amaranth's gaze softened, her head tilting slightly as she appraised Valeska's blood-stained form.

The saliva remained pooled in the back of her throat.
The beast within softly laughed, rattling her as well.

"I will be here ... to ... help. However I can." Her ears pressed forward softly. Hopefully.

She swallowed hard, hoping her words made sense.
Wanting nothing more than to collide with Valeska again.
To rebalance them both.

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Understanding. Redemption. Hope.

Amaranth, ever the vessel of the Five's mercy, flowed forth with renewed vigor, spilling out words of wisdom and comfort as they took her in their moment of sagely insight. Yes; this was her oracle, her soothsayer, her fountain of truth. Every word she uttered was gifted by the gods, gilded in shining precious metals, strengthened by steel.
A wonder.
A miracle.

"What you did was slay a creature birthed of darkness. It is only natural that it should curse you in those moments before its death — terrorize you with the same darkness and fear and anger that it bore its entire life."

Light, airy words accompanied such heavy insight, breathless in their delivery, but carrying no less weight.

"The Five ... the universe ... strives to maintain balance. The darkness that left that creature's body was not erased, but transformed."

Valeska felt herself breathe at last, inhaling the pure oxygen that flowed around them as if it were the first breath of life she had ever taken. A babe, a child; she struggled to maintain her composure, looking around them like a woman hunted, expecting attack at every turn - yet none came.

Just peaceful silence.

She couldn't stand it.

“What forgiveness, where is it,” she exclaimed, eyes darting between themselves and the heavens as if the sky itself may hold the answer, “Amara - I have sinned.”

The word was ugly, profound.

“Amara - my light - my guidance - what must I do? How do I begin to atone for such a terrible atrocity?”

Her eyes were still wet, damp with tears, but no more could flow from her exhausted form. She was dry, bereft, lifeless and deathless.

“Please...” she croaked, voice dry, helpless. “Show me the way.”

An urge overtook her; physical in its nature, yet ethereal in form. She felt herself push forward - inward - and lay against Amaranth, pressing her body against her gilded golden vessel, sinking ever further into her warmth and salvation as she held fast.

Perhaps this was her savior, in the end. Her life, her line to the heavens.

If this was death, how sweet it felt.

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Valeska crumbled around her, a tower falling. Brick by broken brick.

Amaranth, weakened, crippled. She held her because she had to. Wrapping so tightly around Valeska and holding the dear woman close as she suffered with some inner demon. Something Amaranth could understand and would never judge her for. “Amara - I have sinned.” Came the voice, hard and judgemental and craking. "My love," she broke, voice soft and soul cracking. "We all have."

Trust me.
You do not know sin.

Amaranth craved that scent of crimson — of copper-tinted flesh. She could devour it. She could clean it from Valeska's skin. She would rid Valeksa of sin. Once and for all.

"Let me take your burden, please," she begged, almost breathless, pressing into Valeska with desperate intent.

“Amara - my light - my guidance - what must I do? How do I begin to atone for such a terrible atrocity?”

"Give me your burden," Aaranth repeated, desperate as Valeska crashed into her like a wave. Like something of the ocean ... and yet Amaranth did not fear it. For if they were to die, let them die together.

“Show me the way.”

Amaranth stuttered, her body wavering. Tears did not pool, for Amaranth had never cried. Pity did not well, for Amaranth had never felt such emotion. All she knew was that she had to show Valeska that she had not sinned. That light and dark were but a balance. And that they ... they ... together, they were a balance. "Valeska, my love," she whispered, tongue playing with the thinned fur by Valeska's ears. She would tempt her, taunt her, and more importantly ... she needed to remind her. Valeska was not alone. Amaranth was not alone. They were two pieces of one whole.

"Let me show you ..."

Amaranth's lips quivered, lingering near Valeska's ear.

Amaranth had hatched an idea.
A. Very. Dangerous. Idea.

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For so long Valeska had stood as the pillar of certainty in their relationship, the great stone support which had tirelessly upheld them through turmoil and peace alike, and she could little imagine until this moment how Amaranth might be strong in the same way. The golden she-wolf was frail, fine-boned, delicate of mind and spirit; the slightest unrest threatened to unfetter her from the earth itself, and for years now it was she, the white Priestess, who had kept her from losing herself to the void.

To sense her mate exhibiting such strength in her own time of need seemed utterly surreal, and she fell into her like a battered figure in the midst of a storm. Lavender and rain and earth; her bouquet of comforting scents washed over her in a baptism, and she clenched her jaw to fight the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over.

Pathetic. Helpless. Where were her gods now? Where was Houtu when she had nothing, crying out like an abandoned child in the great chasm of eternity?

"Let me take your burden."

Clear tones like a golden bell rang softly out from her mate's warm chest, lending color and life to surroundings Valeska had thought bleak.

"Valeska, my love..."

The pale wolf felt a serpentine tongue brush against the fine feathers at her ears, and she shuddered.

"Let me show you..."

Sun-yellow eyes snapped open as if freshly woken from slumber, then settled against some distant point, dull and listless.

“... Please. Lead me back. Back to the Five, to light... and to you.”

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