the cult

 The world was ash and smoke. The world had burned, her world had burned, upon a great deal of flaming logs. All of it gone as she had screamed and laughed until her voice went up in smoke too.

 She had been made an example of. They had achieved what they wished for — but matter could not be created nor destroyed. Her matter remained the same even as it moved elsewhere. Physical changes. None created or destroyed.

 It is how she sputtered to life from a cracking roll of thunder.

 How she had gone from burning to drowning with a great smack against a wave.

 The sea, while it did not favor her, showed an unwarranted amount of kindness to the woman. The seas could have spun her around violently until she was remade again. Instead it rolled her sharply upon the dark shoreline. Smacked her backside against an obsidian colored stone so that she harshly coughed up saltwater. Freed lungs that had been made for screaming from the start.

 Just as she had died, she arrived with a choking laughter. Seabirds disturbed by her catastrophic arrival called back. An orchestra of chaos birthed from the sea.

 Thunder rolled through the low and heavy clouds.

 She rolled onto her side and despite all the horrible aches and pains, she had never felt more whole.

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No longer held under her role as burdened victim, Yara could travel freely through the nearby territories. She could roam, far and wide, with nothing to tie her down except the iron that ran through her veins. Yet even though her possibilities were seemingly endless — she had not yet vacated this small, charcoal-colored island.

In a way, it reminded her of home. Black sand beaches, the ocean so close she could feel the saltwater permeating in the air. It was all very familial. Difficult to let go of once she had tasted it. Perhaps she didn't need to explore. Maybe — this could be her new home.

All thoughts of settling down were interrupted by the hacking sound of strained laughter. Yara's stroll down the beach halted, Crow squawking in opposition from her shoulder. A spot of black was not like the rest. A figure, spit from the depths, appeared to be laying on the sand only a few strides away. Laughing — or choking? Both, even? A startling mirror-image of her own arrival to Raven Rock. The deja vu was unsettling. So was the sudden reminder of that girl, her blonde-framed face now straddling her thoughts.

Odd. She wasn't going to let that deter her curiosity, however. Yara padded closer, angling her chin down in an investigative slant. Crow only stared, uncharacteristically quiet from between her shoulder blades.

"You alright, amiga?"

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 How long had she been there choking and laughing? Minutes? Hours? Days?

 What was time to a woman who had died and come back in the flash of flames and bubbles of water? Nothing but a blur without faces. Time was truly an illusion to her in these waking moments.

 "You alright, amiga?"

 Grey eyes blinked, once then twice. Her strangled laughter only hushed for this one. A woman crafted of iron and shaped by saltwater. A feathered thing perched between strong shoulders. It was good that a woman had come to find her. A man might have been met with the violent plunge of teeth and claws, a man would have payed for crimes he specifically might not have committed, but that she thought to punish them all as a whole for.

 She smiled upon the presence of a woman.

 “Better than ever,” She exhaled in a deathly rasp. “You can tell your feathered friend I have not died yet. Not that there's much meat on the bones for the taking, hm?”

 Her raking voice was filled with humor as she began the task of rising. Only she moved with the gait of a drunken sailor rather than a smooth sailing woman.

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The beached woman seemed pleased to find Yara. Her smile wobbled with strain, bouncing off of Yara's stoic but otherwise neutral expression. She sniffed the air idly, ears swiveling about as though she was listening for the sound of others. There was nothing — no one, not a thing — just the waves and the two strangers that had been swallowed by them.

And Crow. Yara hardly counted her feathered companion as viable company, though. Pest, however —

Lighthearted sarcasm was something she could relate to. Crow did not move to protest her accusation, and Yara did not move to defend the bird's eating habits. She did, however, smirk a bit too wide given the situation. "What if I was hungry instead?"

A relatively empty threat. Yara much preferred fish to cannibalism — but women were always on the menu.

Her mouth twitched back to a solid line as the other wolf attempted to stand. It was like watching a pup learn to walk for the first time. Yara's toes dug into the black sand, followed by a furrowed brow.

"You're going to break something." Yara mumbled, eyeing her substandard approach with apprehension. She had been there, so she felt almost obligated to help. Only a week or so had passed since she had taken her first steps too.

Yara made some sort of grumbling, decisive sound in the back of her throat. A few strides were taken before she was at the woman's trembling side.

"Lean on me, amiga. We'll get you to somewhere dry before you drown yourself again." Her shoulder bent as an offering, eyes landing expectantly on a silver gaze.

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 "What if I was hungry instead?"

 She licked her lips as her toothy grin stayed. “I'd say — dinner and a show?” As if she was in any kind of condition to offer a show. Yet it seemed even in the wake of her own death and rebirth, she could not refrain from temptation. The great reason for her death, anyway. It seemed fair she carried it with her into the new life.

 As woe as she was, there was a gentle prodding to her gut to be given help. Once more it was a blessing that it was a woman come to offer it. It was the only thing that had her leaning against the strong, stone-carved woman.

 “Is this your place then?” She asked as she was prepared for their slow-going venture.

 Now upright and moving, she was free to feel the full expanse of her aches and pains. The soft chafe of scarred thighs in her uneven gait, the empty belly she had come with.

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A brief sigh escaped her lungs as she allowed the other female to lean against her side. Yara's violet gaze rolled leisurely over the gunmetal girl's crown as the vibration from her reply hummed against her shoulder.

"Later, then." Yara added with a grunt, shifting her weight to the right so she could properly drag them both off of the beach. The promise of a show was enticing enough to motivate their progress.

"No. I am growing quite fond of it, though." She mumbled, peering out over the large rock formations, now ignited in a morning glow. They stood around the pair as silent, brooding giants. Yara turned at one, aiming for drier land, eyes trained on the tree-line. A sharpened jaw bobbed with casual conversation. "Why, you like?"

Her chin angled down as she glanced back at the other girl, making sure she was still keeping up. Satisfied with their speed, she continued onwards until they reached the thicker collection of foliage that decorated the center of the burnt island.

There, she stopped, relaxing against the trunk of one nearby while she waited for the silver-furred woman to gather her bearings. Her shoulder slumped, and she sucked in another breath. That was the most physical labor she had done since her own sea-side arrival.

When she could breathe without pausing, her attention resolved back to the girl. "There. Saved. Thank me later," Yara's face settled into a smug line, but the incentive behind her good deed was not entirely based in her own pleasure. She wasn't callous enough to leave the poor thing choking on the beach — even without payment.

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 Later!

 Now Wake needed to make good on it, eh? Not that she truly imagined skimping out on returning favors to this tall woman. Life saver, rebirth midwife.

 Her pale gaze followed, eyeing the odd formations of tall stones and finding it befitting in some way. That she died strapped to a post and was thrown back to life with an island full of pillars. Go figure. Yet it was nice. A place that charmed her with its bleakness for her own bleak sake too. So the answer flowed freely, easily. Like her lips had been warmed with wine and honey —

 “I like it very much. Like the faces on it too.”

 Lay it on thick, call her out on it, she cared not. Honesty between women would forever be the thing that kept Wake as sly and wily as she was. It was a thing she had been willing to die for.

 Yet she was saved now. Turned away from the thunderstorms with the shelter of a tree line that seemed thick enough to guard Wake from much of anything.

 “What is your favorite way to be saved, sailor? Shows?” This purled and drawn across her tongue with devilish warmth. All while she unceremoniously slunk down to the ground, wishing to rest the soft tremble of her legs.

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misc skill: escort

---

 

I like the faces on it, too. Yara's brow quirked at the suggestive comment, easily entertained by the bold nature of the other female. She had not grown up fixated on her own appearance, so flattery only went so far when it pertained to faces. She'd much rather be complimented on her strength, her will. But it was received well nonetheless.

"Aye, pretty thing. Welcome to wash up on those instead of the shore next time." The coal outline of her eyes grew intentionally, temporarily smoldering. After a moment of watchful contemplation, she moved her gaze away from the woman and back to the island surrounding them. It appeared even darker than before.

"I don't much like being saved. Never much liked being in someone's debt, either," she admitted gruffly, recalling the blonde woman that she now owed a majority of her survival to. Gone off to who knows where — nameless, a pale ghost with haunting, violet eyes.

She hated that feeling. The way her gut swirled with an obligation to return favor.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she settled into a sitting position, sprawling herself messily against the trunk of the tree. The other girl had attempted the same, but she still had to look down in order to address her. "My family is rather strict in that sense. We take care of our own, not the other way around," Yara breathed the words as though she had rehearsed them many times before.

In a way, she had. We take care of our own. Something her father had practically singed into her memory. Independence within their own right.

Speaking of. Her eyes found purchase on silver once more, this time with newfound curiosity. "You wouldn't have happened to see a fella like me out there while you were thrashin' about, did you? Perhaps two?"

The mental imagery was enough to amuse her, but Yara forced the urge to laugh at her own question down before it bubbled up her throat. Something akin to worry was beginning to form in the pit of her belly, something that outweighed funny.

She hadn't seen her brothers since she got here.

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 Something warm licked up the inside of Wake's chest and throat. Enchanted in that moment by the thought. She was much like a newborn in this moment, relearning everything and finding the wonder in it all over again.

 Women would always be wonderful, each and every time. Wake would always look upon them with a curled smile and simmering gaze, just as she did now when she looked to her salty company.

 Even as the conversation drifted onward. Even still her heart thudded gently against the narrow breastbone in her chest. It would only be the discussion of men that squashed whatever embers might have flared into a hungry fire. It was fine. It was fine.

 “They'd have to be sharks for me to look at them.” She drawled as a toothy grin took over a once wry smile. “I don't look upon men ever if I can help it.” A wet tail slapped softly against the base of the tree and her hind legs.

 “But for you?” That smoky smile returned as Wake rolled her gaze over the woman and out to the sea again. “I suppose keeping an eye open won't hurt, eh? No debt, no score kept. Just...taking care of our own.”

 As if Wake suddenly had some sort of tie to this woman. She could at least try to form one with the island, no?

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Yara had not realized she had been holding her breath while waiting, however slim the chances were that she'd find her brothers striding through the undercurrent. It came out in a silent huff of air with the other girl's reply — somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh.

"Ah, well, they're not much to look at anyways. And you can tell them I said that if you do happen across em'. Maron needs the humbling," she mentioned in a spout of good-natured jest, rolling her eyes at the thought of anyone taking her brothers down a peg. She almost wondered if being insulted by a pretty lass would just stir them up more.

She'd make a point to find them later. They were self-sufficient enough to last a week without their older sister.

A trademark smirk widened at the following sentiment. Yara's paws flexed in the moist earth as her posture straightened, intrigued by the enthusiasm. "Oh, for me?"

It was not difficult to match the wandering eyes of the gray-flanked sprite before her. Indigo hues burned holes into the curves and softened angles of the other female as though she were memorizing the points on a map. Deliberately, agonizingly slow, but intimate with eye contact. Loyalty and pledges sent shivers up her spine like none other, and this one was toeing the line.

"To our own, then. You plan on staying here long?"

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 Did all men not need humbling? In the shrewd eyes of Wake, they did, but this was a thought she kept close to her own. Not feeling the need to drive home a point that this woman had already spoken to.

 “For you,” Purred like a feline, another hearty slap of her tail against sandy earth. Why not, after all? Why should they not forge new bonds in the flames of reawakening?

 “As long as you'll have me. Seems cruel to spit in the face of such a good start, no?”

 Something above (or something below) had spit Wake back out into a waking world. Sent her to the arms of a strong swimmer for company and an island that seemed to fit the ways of her life already. To leave might only ensure she died again. Why risk it?

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Yara was content to bask in the attention from the other girl, pleased that she was intent on staying. This agreed with her plans to linger as well, and perhaps even ignited a new idea when the confirmation was placed at her feet. She had considered making this island a permanent home before — as Yara was easily swayed by the black-ochre sand and towering rocks — so why not invite this one to accompany her should she pursue it?

When her brothers returned, they'd certainly want to establish roots as well. The Ironborn were nothing without their blood, and blood was nothing without a heart to pump. This place .. it could be their heart.

Yara cleared her throat, feeling rather diplomatic. "If that's the case, you're welcome to join my brothers and I once we re-establish ourselves here. I'm not sure about fate, but we tend to make our own," she offered, eyes steady on the frame of the other girl's face. She wouldn't hide extending the invitation for selfish reasons either.

Her voice dropped an octave, incisors glinting in the early morning sun. "And it'd be a shame to not save you from time to time."

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closing <3

---

 “It's settled then.”

 She snorted with warm amusement in the back of her throat.

 “Just hope you don't get tired of saving me, hm?” A soft lift of one brow as her tail softly thumped against the earth once more. Content with the situation she had quite literally fallen into.

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