Post by Bloody Mary on Jun 13, 2021 11:29:21 GMT -8
Wayland had been asked to seek Bloody Mary in the Hedge, the familiar locale of Spring's coronation laid out before her.
The Valley was swept with greenery and the bright winks of wild flowers, as if someone had flicked a wet brush across the pastoral scene. The air, thick with pollen and motes dulled the distance in a haze of gold as grass scratched—almost waist height now—muffling the bones that were churned with the soft soil.
The Knight of Storms was hunched, bent at the waist with her hands working in a methodical, dry snapping. Clouds boiled above, casting twisting shadows across her wanderings with the heat and pressure of a rain that threatened to wash everything away. Crows flocked to the Maker, cackling at her as the wave of ominous danger came with the rippling wind of the grass sea as the Eldest of the Spear straightened to the swirling ill omens on the horizon. Ashen, necrotic fingertips held rib bones that she tucked away into the satchel. "Come, girl. This one didn't make it, but it can't move on until a promise is met. I have uses," she said, ordering the younger Ogre with a confidence as natural as breathing.
As Wayland met the sage that had trained generations of violence, she beheld the disturbing sight of a motionless child nestled within the remains. Fungus was already overtaking the corpse, but the flesh was still bright and healthy despite the lack of breath. Mary swaddled the infant, smoothing the ants and brambles from locks that somehow continued to grow, before nodding towards the hill with a cut boulder. A plain blade is pulled from her belt, handed to Wayland as she spun the hilt towards her.
"This being is part of our Bargains to maintain the sovereignty of our Freehold. The Seed that was planted for them during Ostara must have been a failure to meet the needs of the Rite, and now this creature is in limbo unable to fulfill its end of the pact," she gestured to the sun breaking from the clouds, casting the stone in light.
"Pledges to Knighthoods are fleeting. I bind my authority to that of the Vigil, with the Crown as the Interpreter. Fulfillment of this chain requires actions of sacrifice—one our Seeming knows intrinsically. Untether this restless spirit so its energy is not wasted in suffering by the ignorance of its sponsor. Dedicate the act, and Summer will acknowledge your duty through service to me."
The Valley was swept with greenery and the bright winks of wild flowers, as if someone had flicked a wet brush across the pastoral scene. The air, thick with pollen and motes dulled the distance in a haze of gold as grass scratched—almost waist height now—muffling the bones that were churned with the soft soil.
The Knight of Storms was hunched, bent at the waist with her hands working in a methodical, dry snapping. Clouds boiled above, casting twisting shadows across her wanderings with the heat and pressure of a rain that threatened to wash everything away. Crows flocked to the Maker, cackling at her as the wave of ominous danger came with the rippling wind of the grass sea as the Eldest of the Spear straightened to the swirling ill omens on the horizon. Ashen, necrotic fingertips held rib bones that she tucked away into the satchel. "Come, girl. This one didn't make it, but it can't move on until a promise is met. I have uses," she said, ordering the younger Ogre with a confidence as natural as breathing.
As Wayland met the sage that had trained generations of violence, she beheld the disturbing sight of a motionless child nestled within the remains. Fungus was already overtaking the corpse, but the flesh was still bright and healthy despite the lack of breath. Mary swaddled the infant, smoothing the ants and brambles from locks that somehow continued to grow, before nodding towards the hill with a cut boulder. A plain blade is pulled from her belt, handed to Wayland as she spun the hilt towards her.
"This being is part of our Bargains to maintain the sovereignty of our Freehold. The Seed that was planted for them during Ostara must have been a failure to meet the needs of the Rite, and now this creature is in limbo unable to fulfill its end of the pact," she gestured to the sun breaking from the clouds, casting the stone in light.
"Pledges to Knighthoods are fleeting. I bind my authority to that of the Vigil, with the Crown as the Interpreter. Fulfillment of this chain requires actions of sacrifice—one our Seeming knows intrinsically. Untether this restless spirit so its energy is not wasted in suffering by the ignorance of its sponsor. Dedicate the act, and Summer will acknowledge your duty through service to me."
