Lost and Found

[Asherah]

The mist spoke to her. Its benign inflection, that fluid voice, spoken in a vernacular comprehended only by the children of Aurilia, coursed through her subsistence like the redolent haze itself. It flowed through all of the them, shrouded all of them. It had been there when they had been born into this world, a tangible but divine embrace. An immortal matron that both guarded and guided her posterity.

A lithe arm slipped through the viridian flap of the dome shaped shelter. The skin binding the toned muscles and hale bone structure would have appeared to be blanch were the tight Sullust leather absent from it. The rest of Asherah’s frame followed suit from the sturdy cloth tent, it too was bound in the same black material. A crimson sash was draped about her waist and as preferred her ebony tresses hung loose, swirling in the breeze about her lower back. Her gaze, a vibrant amber, wandered the silent grounds of her village. It was still early yet and the bustling activities of her people would not take place for many hours now.

Autumn had already stumbled upon Aurilia. Leaves of every fall color were strewn about the earthy pathways, the mist was thick, and the wind was tinged with cold. The harvest had come and gone, leaving the land looking utterly bare. Soon, the frigid clutches of winter would be upon them. Training would begin then..

Il zhah noamuth, dalninil. Sila ilta rath..

A slender brow lofted and her head canted to one side. The mist whispered with such uncommon clearness. She straightened and strode forward, the scarce light of morning striking her face once she had cleared the tent’s extension. A presence. She could feel it so acutely. Almost as if it was right beside…

“Mother…” She murmured in that detached tone. Her gaze remained fastened upon the endless expanse of fog before her, seemingly captivated by its restless swirling.

“Asherah, It has spoken. Bring her to us…” Matier replied, her impossibly white robes rippling in the same manner as the dewy billows surrounding them.

She nodded slightly and started forward, the village soon disappearing from her sight but never her awareness. The dense fog enveloped everything, but she could always find her way back. It was this lost soul that needed guidance now, not she. Asherah wandered, drawn forward by that supernatural pull. In the distance, outlined in dimming red aura…

The sound dissipated from her steps and she moved as one with the flowing force around her, drawing nearer and nearer to the being the mist deemed worthy of Her counsel. Suddenly, she stopped, alerted by some writhing wickedness that seemed to emanate from the creature. Fatigue continued drain it’s aspect and yet, still it pressed forward. They came face to face before long.

Il flamgran xuil plithut.

“Exiled…”

[Kerrigaise]

Exiled.

She screamed in protest, in what seemed like futility, against the voices in the blasted labyrinth of mist. The scream was primal, viscious, desperate. It echoed and came back to Kerrigaise and she shrunk away from it, at first unaware of what it was.

Kerrigaise stood, partially trembling, her knees bent inwards as she leveled her wooden spear, the sharp, jagged stone tied to the end of it with roped together vines. She might've been exiled but that didn't mean she had forgotten she was a warrior woman of Dathomir, trained to blend their mystic heritage with their female superiority in form and overall strength. She would not fall to the wildnerness so easily, even though her former sisters of the Red Hills had pushed her even further out. Kerrigaise was stronger than them, and they feared her for it. They feared the possibilities in the darkness while Kerrigaise had gone to it with open arms like a lover.

She didn't fear them, but she was wise to stay away from them as they rode their rancors in packs. And so she had gone out, away from their patrols and travelled into parts of Dathomir she'd never seen. She found herself in an unfamiliar darkness that it would seem as if she was the first one there ever to step into this misty glade.

The whispering... it started again and she screamed out again. She pivoted on her heel, the plates of her armor shuffling against each other, as her hair, slick with the humidity, stuck against her forehead. Something... was coming towards her. She could sense it almost, but it was dormant, as if supressed.

"Come closer... please... I want to... I need to... blood..."

She licked her full lips almost eagerly, the thirst and hunger of her long trek subsiding with the sudden adrenaline rush that she might spill blood soon and feel it running between her fingers. Oh, yes, in the darkness, alone, Kerrigaise had been given plenty of time to... converse with the shadows. Her discipline, her respect for pleasantries had subsided in that span of time only because it was no longer necessary. She no longer had anyone to respect in the sense of formalities, she merely had the most basic, sweet law of survival, kill or be killed, eat or be eaten.

[Asherah]

Asherah’s simmering amber eyes roamed up the length of that sturdy wooden prop adorned with the sharp stone shaped into a most threatening point. Her gaze then explored the framework gripping the mentioned weapon that had become level with a bit of effort. The young woman’s hair was an appealing black like her own, but was slick against her face and neck, and her eyes were a ravenous crimson that forewarned her of this one’s deranged mentality. Her distorted screams resounded through the mist, haunting them both until it was passed further along. This woman; she trembled, she raged, and she hungered.

Come closer... please... I want to... I need to... blood…

Her brows knit downward, twisting her usually detached expression into something more intent, focused even. She could feel the turmoil within this girl rapidly begin to spread throughout the mist, wrapping around even her tightly guarded semblance with its wicked claws. One hand, which she noted had become tightly clenched, became unfurled and caressed aside the panel of fabric at her sight. The crimson sash that hid away the only means of a safeguard against the wild world she had willingly stepped off into.

The metallic coil was thick, having been processed and wrapped expertly, and moved much like a wily serpent . Unhooking it from the clasp at her hip, she cast the enduring whorl before her. It slithered on the ground in a most lively fashion. Still, the girl approached. The fiery tint of Asherah’s eyes became cruel and matching their sudden bite was the snap of Vyk'zlade’s first strike. It cut a deep laceration into the ground just under the young woman’s trembling stride and then let out an unsatisfied hiss as it was drawn back to its wielder.

“Blood…? Yours will have to do. Mine seethes quite contently in my veins.”

[Kerrigaise]

Kerrigaise bared her teeth with a snarl, keeping the spear level. She was a warrior woman of Dathomir, she knew how to handle and had suffered by so many weapons, what more was a pretty snack with a whip? Maybe she was the source of the voices, maybe killing her and eating her heart would stop their whispering, stop her whispering.

Kerrigaise, in light blood-red half-plate mail, began to circle the slender woman. She seemed healthy enough, a full body, as if she knew of some supply of food that was obviously not Kerrigaise's priviledge to know of. Fine, Kerrigaise would steal it from her corpse then.

"You decieve yourself, morsel..."

Begging to be tasted...

"Your blood is just begging to be tasted..."

Screaming for release...

"Your blood screams for release..."

Kerrigaise had circled the woman twice by now, her long bare legs gracefully strafing in the cool mist. Even weakened from hunger, fatigue, and dehydration, the sense of the coming kill, the nearing feast, the exhultation of it, sent chills down Kerrigaise's spine.

[Asherah]

Morsel...

Asherah managed to coerce a meager smile of unsympathetic mirth into her countenance as the young woman continued to prowl and speak. She circled her in that menacing, predatory way but Asherah remained still. She just had to feel, bide her time. The girl was clearly careless and conducted by whispers darker than any she had experienced. But that was fine. She lacked the control that Asherah had. This starving, delirious moppet would be brought down like any other raving beast on the plains.

She set into motion. The gesture was humble enough at first, a few wrist rotations to get the whip moving. The rippling gradually grew faster and wider. The extensive iron ligature swirled around her curved hips; her arm held straight up and her joint bent inward. The loops spun, each revolution more rapid than the next. Then, she swiftly flipped her wrist back, sending Vyk'zlade spiralling up the rest of her frame. It hissed all the way and then snapped twice at either side of the area above her head. The metallic lasher resumed its rotation and Asherah's smile vanished.

"Do come on.."

[Kerrigaise]

Kerrigaise mumbled something underneath her breath, an obvious look of disgust at the other woman as her large, crimson eyes watched the tail end of the whip lash about warily. She watched it wrap tightly around her frame and and Kerrigaise blinked as if struck as the whispering in the mist became something like sudden shocks of mental screaming.

This woman was wrapped in vines, large thorns, like knives dug into her body, as she was suspended upside down, and Kerrigaise was there, her nearly claw like nails cutting into the silky white skin of this woman's neck, lips pressed against each others. But this wasn't any kind of kiss really, as Kerrigaise had already eaten the woman's eyes out and was just then starting on her lips.

She opened her eyes, everything refocusing in the mist and she snarled and screamed all at once as she lunged, her spear aimed for the neck. If Kerrigaise was lucky, it would just graze the skin and then she could play with her new snack.

[Asherah]

She seemed content just to scrutinize the look of distaste that crossed the other woman's visage and follow the swerving path of those crimson eyes with her own amber optics. The red armored warrior was wary, pensive, yet primed to strike; much like the iron serpent undulating above her head. The mist swirled into a grey funnel around Asherah, unseen forces surged betwixt them. The girl, she realized, became plagued by some mental image that seemed to both enrage and excite.

She lashed out, but Asherah was ready for her. She had faced many a sister with sharper skills than this delusional wretch and the cover provided by her vapor matron only augmented her agility. Perhaps, in time, she'd be a challenge but at the moment, she was too far gone to be any good.

Vyk'zlade swarmed forward in a wiry vortex, locking around the spear that had been thrust at her. Jerking her arm down, she sent the sharp head of the spear into the soil before her, causing the wooden pole to stand perpendicular. The young woman still held fast despite her obvious instability. She pried at the prop but Asherah tightened the authority of her whip upon its segment.

[Kerrigaise]

Kerrigaise pulled the spear with all her strength, a vain attempt it seemed. Until she pulled the spear, still stuck in the ground with the whip wrapped around it, bending it backwards, and then she quit resisting and let the released stress hurl her forward unexpectedly at the woman.

They collided, Kerrigaise's eyes wide with the lust for a battle, for blood. She grinned as they hit the soft dirt together, the impact alone making dust rise and flecks of the Dathomir soil rise like brown gritty blood in the air.
Her hands dug like claws into the woman's arms as she tried to pin her down. Kerrigaise wanted to lick her lips, she was salivating with hunger. Blight take her, she was so hungry. She would've tried to taste the pearly flesh too if not for the fear of biting her own tongue off lest she be hit.

Rend flesh. Lick bone. Feast on her heart and organs, gain her strength and return to us in the darkness, in the shadows.

Yes, yes.

[Asherah]

"Cha'kohk dos!" Asherah snarled at the girl as she began to hasten forward, launched by that spear. She should have destroyed the blasted thing when she had the chance. She should have laid waste to that miserable, sapless shell now spilling down upon her. Her normally collected composure had cracked then and a bit of raw anger came bubbling up through the fissures of that unseen mask.

All the while, the mist contorted as though amused. Pleased.

They crashed down to the earth and immediately she felt those nails seek the flesh of her arms. The pain was annoying and her temper quickened with the wretch's clawing. It was like tangling with a rabid feline. Her own fingers set into action, capturing the wrists of her foe, and she managed to plant a foot in the girl's gut after manuevering her arms a bit. The girl continued to struggle until she was pitched roughly over Asherah's head.

Asherah rose above her, twisting the limbs she had captured about in a most violent fashion. Then, she slammed her knees down upon the young woman's arms, right at the joint of the elbow. Would this deter her? She wouldn't risk it this time.

Releasing the woman's arms now held in place by her knees, she snagged the leather grip of her whip and gave it a fierce yank. The spear flew from the soil and she caught it with her free hand. Twirling the long pike, she shoved the sharpened tip down to the girl's throat, allowing it to hover there in silent warning. A promise. Could this be what she wanted?

[Kerrigaise]

Kerrigaise's eyes were wild; the dark red of her iris' standing out that much more against the stark white of her eyes. In the mist, Kerrigaise was disoriented, lost, unsure exactly what was up and what was down and all of that for naught but for that ragged edge, her ragged edge of a spear head resting a whisper away from her exposed throat.

The woman was in the dominant position, her body weight trapping Kerrigaise's arms beneath it, but Kerrigaise debated her options in a rushed manner. Her lower half, what counted some of the times was still unhindered. Mayhap, she could lift her legs up... No, the other woman would sense the shift and movement too soon.

Flashed images of her own blood spraying into the air appeared behind her eyelids as she blinked rapidly. Her mouth opened and closed as she gasped for air and hissed, squirming slightly.

"Kill me!"

Kill her!

"No... just me!"

Kerrigaise would not have hesitated this long. The other woman, given their posititions were switched would've given her last breath long ago. The sequence following that alternate future was brutal yet satisfying as images of Kerrigaise feasting on the still warm body filled her mind. And then roasting what was remaining over a fire that night. The traps she would've set for the beasts drawn by the smell and her ensuing success of survival from there.

But this woman wouldn't do the same? Was she too weak? She already had her own supply of food, and didn't need to eat Kerrigaise? The feel of that woman's damp skin and the gritty feel of the dirt underneath was still a sensation burned into her fingertips and beneath her nails.

[Asherah]

"Kill me!"

Venoch ilta....

Asherah soon became aware of the blood as well. But rather than witnessing the deep crimson liquid spray up before her, she heeded the accumulating pool of it that had diffused beneath the unhinged woman. It was a macabre artifice that indeed tranquillized her adept intuition and set a roaring fire beneath the most basic of instincts that had been tamed by training and her own artic composure.

It melted her.

Kill her!

"No... just me!"

"Zu'tour dosst norrs...!" She urged, fighting the urge to clamp a hand over that rambling mouth and silence the taunts that utterly disarmed her control. Her own body shook now as she fought back the strain, the desire to sink the spear deep into the girl's quivering throat and have done with this delicious torment. A distinct murmur that sounded suspiciously like maniacal laughter moved through the mist. Her own voice, her own animosity and yet her lips never moved.

She lured back the weapon, fully intending to give in to the heated whispers at her ears, the hissing in her brain. Just as the blade would have pierced her creamy skin, a discordant grip caught the back of the pike. A force, like lightning, darted down the length of her arms but her face showed no signs of her discomfort. She knew the directive well.

"Mother.." She whispered, standing up from the girl and taking several steps back as to stand by the matron's side. Matier had brought several with her, it seemed. They clung to the mist, fading in and out with it.

"She is strong, yes. She will do nicely. But not in this state. Jiiva, Elyl.." The matron paused, gesturing forward two of the sisters. They both bent in unison and lay their vise grip of the girl's arms.

"Take her to the village..."

[Kerrigaise]

Their grip was steel and Kerrigaise's weakened state was unable to break free. She was not unable to resist however and she refused to calm down just so they could take her wherever they intended to do. Kerrigaise would kill them all given the chance. And that chance would come. Oh would it come, and she'd hang their skeletons from the trees, leaving scraps of meat on them to attract more food. And weapons, she'd garner as many as she could. Those weapons, she could bring back to the darkness, so those shadows that screamed for blood, for death, could follow her back... back to them.

Kerrigaise struggled to flail her limbs, she hissed and yelled in futile resistance still though. The one she had been fighting had said... Mother. Kerrigaise had no mother, nor did she want one. And she didn't want these women carrying her about to and fro like they were either.
The world reeled in her fatigue, and in the mist, laughter echoed.

Jiiva... Elyl... Two names to remember to whisper back to them as she bit into their throats and ripped out their flesh. When the time came.