Absinth lounged lazily near the entrance of her den, her sharp emerald eyes scanning the surroundings with an indifferent gaze. Her sleek monochromatic fur, standing out a bit more brightly against the sleet and steadily melting snow.

Her attention shifted to the ravens that flitted about, their dark feathers fluttering above the muted hues of the forest. Her trusted spies and companions, each with a unique personality and voice. She watched them with a mix of curiosity and amusement, her lips curling into a faint smirk.

One of the ravens, a larger one than most, perched on a low branch nearby and greeted her with a series of clicks and caws. It croaked out her name, its voice rough and gravelly, but laden with a strange affection.

Absinth tilted her head, regarding the bird with a cool, calculating expression. “What news, Vita?” She asked, her voice smooth and devoid of any pretense.

The bird, Vita, flapped her wings and hopped closer, her beady eyes glinting in the light; intelligence swirling within. “BlueBoy… Purple-Gold King… Badger… Test…. Fought…. Well.” She managed to articulate between clicks and caws. Absinth’s gaze immediately blazed to life, rising from her place of leisure rest as her lips pulled up in a hiss of displeasure. She gestured to the raven to point her in the direction of the event, tail lashing behind her as she moved to meet her boy. Of course there was no denying that Sephiran was the child’s father, but nursing him, weaning him — she would be damned if he died to that psychopath, especially in his first few weeks of life.



wormwood

After Sultan dismissed him, Xairo began the slow trip to return back to the den he shared with his siblings and adoptive parents. The snow was melting, but the patches that were left, he marred with the blood leaking from his weeping lacerations left from his trial with the badger. He had been successful- it was the one who had abandoned their fight. But of course, it wasn’t a sense of accomplishment he felt. He didn’t feel anything at all really. Just numb.

His paws, heavy with exhaustion, traced the familiar path. Each labored breath echoed in his ears as frosty air scorched his lungs. The scent of pine and damp earth filled his nostrils - a monotonous reminder of home. He cast glances at the towering cliffs surrounding Polar Sound. Their towering, ominous presence seemed to mock him. He was but a small speck in this vast valley- What would have happened if he hadn’t won?

As he limped towards the den, a familiar scent hit him - one that was warm, comforting and yet tinged with anxiety. Absinth. His mother. His heart pounded in his chest as he considered the look on her face when she would see his injuries. He cringed, fear of inadequacy echoing like a thunderous roar in his ears. He could not be seen as weak, even if his body was screaming otherwise.

Xairo lunged for the cover of a mostly bare shrub, instinctively licking at the raw gashes on his flank in an attempt to clean them. His tongue stung against the deep wounds, a sharp reminder of the brutal encounter. Each lick was a grimace-inducing bite of pain, but he gritted his teeth and continued. He had to show strength; he had to disguise his weakness.

"Xairo Saxe"

A rustle, footfalls wet with the melting snow, and the scent of blood. Her senses came to life as emeralds scanned, ears twitching and flipping back and forth. She surged forward, catching sight of the unnatural blue boy she had been searching for.

Absinth watched as Xairo stumbled into view, his form ragged and bloodied against the melting snow. Her sharp emerald eyes softened slightly, concern flickering behind her usually indifferent gaze. She could see the pain etched on his young face, the way his body trembled with each step. The ravens above cawed softly, sensing the change in her demeanor as they spread out to secure the area in case they needed to alert their mistress of any incoming danger.

With deliberate slowness, approached him, her movements fluid and silent. Xairo’s attempt to conceal himself behind the shrub and lick his wounds did not escape her notice. She stopped a few paces away, her gaze gentle but firmly planted on the dead shrub he was ‘hidden’ in. “Xairo,” She called out, her voice warm and coaxing, a lightness to the tone as she leaned back unto her haunches. “Come out from there, my love.”

She waited, her patience blanketing over the tension that gripped the air. She knew he was wounded, obviously she could see him in part through the near bare shrub, but it wouldn’t do to go pulling him out from his hiding spot. She wanted him to come to her.


wormwood

Shock held Xairo in its icy grip, numbing his senses and clouding his thoughts. It was a small mercy in the face of what he had endured, isolating him from the reality of his situation. Yet, as Absinth's familiar voice reached him, it cut through the fog encasing his mind. The gentle warmth in her tone brought a surge of emotions that threatened to spill over. He wanted to rush to her, bury himself in her warmth, and forget about the horrors of the day. But he couldn't. Not yet. He had to prove his worth. To show Sultan ... no, show himself that he was strong.

Drawing a shaky breath, he managed to lift his head, his piercing green eyes meeting Absinth's gentle gaze. His body protested the sudden movement, sending waves of pain radiating from the deep gashes on his flanks. But he ignored it, pushing himself to his legs and staggering forward, every step a defiant proclamation of his resilience. His fluffy cerulean coat was smeared with the dark red of his blood, creating a macabre contrast against their muted surroundings.

His eyes never left Absinth's as he limped towards her, each painful stride chipping away at the icy walls he'd erected around himself. The distance between them seemed to stretch on endlessly, an insurmountable gulf he had to bridge. But he would not falter. Not now. His gaze took in the straightness of her posture, the unflinching look in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” The words slipped out in a raw whisper before he could stop them, the pain in his eyes betraying the depth of his regret. His gaze flickered away from hers in that moment, stricken by a sudden, profound sense of shame.

"Xairo Saxe"

Absinth's emerald eyes softened from intense to knowing as she watched him struggle, his need to hold his head high striking her deeply. Right to her core, she understood that need – hurt pride, a sense of not being strong enough. Absinth’s lips pulled into a smile, and she took a few steps forward to close the distance once he’d stopped his approach, unable to hold her gaze. The monochromatic fae’s movements were powerful and deliberate. She wouldn’t coddle him, but a mother without the ability to nurture was no mother at all.

When she reached him, she nuzzled his cheek. While her touch was not gentle, it was grounding—exactly what she thought he needed. “Why are you sorry, brave boy?” she murmured, her voice a soothing whisper. “Look at you, your first scars. But what’s wrong?”

She licked his wounds with tender care, though even with her practiced tongue, it would still sting. Perhaps it was better to have your wounds licked by another, though. “I'm listening. I am here, always. So speak your mind. You won't do yourself any good to bottle it up, trust me.” Absinth’s tail wrapped around him protectively as she looked him over, wrapping the boy up in her warmth and settling her gaze on him. Steady and warm, she allowed him to explain himself, knowing he needed to speak to understand why his demeanor was one of shame.



wormwood

His eyes flashed with surprise at her touch, his body stiffening before he made a conscious effort to relax. It took a moment for him to find the words he wanted to say. “I...I fought,” he managed, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Yet... I was scared- I was weak." His green eyes flickered to meet hers, searching for answers within their emerald depths. "That badger...it was so much stronger than me. I had to fight...and fight hard. I didn’t think I would win.” He fell silent for a few moments, looking away from Absinth as the admission settled between them. His nails dug into the soft earth beneath him, his small form shaking slightly.

Finally, he looked back up at her, his green eyes welling up. “He said you failed me because I didn’t know who he was.” Which wasn’t the truth. His mother hadn’t failed him, and he felt anger bubbling in his chest at the recollection of the memory. “I told him you and dad taught us respect is earned not demanded,” Xairo recounted fiercely, but his done didn’t last for long. His next words weren’t much more than a whisper. “He said I would earn my life then.” A stubborn determination hardened his features, his small form tensed as if ready to fight again. His gaze dropped to his paws, the recent battle replaying in his mind's eye. “I think Sultan hates me … I think he wanted me to lose.” He shuddered, and despite his efforts to stay strong, his voice wobbled slightly, betraying the fear that still lingered.

"Xairo Saxe"

Absinth's heart ached at the sight of her son's struggle, his small form trembling as he recounted the events. She could sympathize, but her gaze remained steady, filled with both compassion and unwavering strength as she listened to him speak. As his eyes flashed with surprise at her touch, she leaned in closer, her voice a soothing murmur. Her nose gently brushed against his cheek, grounding him in her presence. She’d not have him fear for his life while she remained so close. “Shhh, Xairo. Fear does not equal weakness. It makes you aware of danger; it means you have something worth fighting for. A reason you want to live. Only the dead have the right to feel nothing at all, because they simply can’t.”

Her emerald eyes met his, holding his gaze firmly. Her expression was warm, but as intense as the woman had always been. “You are strong, and you will continue to gain strength. You will fight bigger, scarier foes, and you’ll come out on top. You fought hard and you survived. That’s a lot of what life is. Fighting. Winning. Surviving.” She listened as he spoke of Sultan, her expression hardening slightly. Her voice, however, remained gentle as she fought to not pass on her anger to the already angry boy. It wouldn't do to have him go after Sephiran, out of anger, or spew words better left unsaid. Though that kind of rational thinking had always been her weak point. “The Sultan has an appetite for testing others with his words, and pushing you to your limits. But know this, my son: you are not defined by his words. You are defined by your actions and your spirit.”

Absinth’s gaze softened as she nuzzled him again, her voice a low, comforting rumble. “You stood your ground, Xairo. Hate you? Do you think he would like you more if you tucked your tail and bowed your head like he wants? Or did you show him who you were, by tooth and claw? The Sultan is cruel in ways you haven’t experienced yet, yes. I cannot always protect you when you are out of my sight, but if he tests you again, you prove you never needed to earn your life. It has always been your own. Make something of it.”

Her eyes gleamed with fierce pride as she spoke. Her goal to uplift the boy, to instill a confidence into him that had been shattered by Sephiran. Or at least, to sow the seeds of it. “You have the heart of a warrior, my love. You are not alone, either.” Gently, she licked his wounds once more, her touch tender yet firm as she took him tenderly into her arms, rolling back unto spine while careful not to jostle his wounds. “Take your fear and use it, until it forges into something else, something powerful.” The fae said, her nose wiggling into his cheek as she sought his eyes; the beginnings of who he could come to be as if she could see it.

wormwood

Xairo blinked at her words, his gaze finding hers. He searched for understanding within their emerald depths. His mother made a pretty convincing argument that fear didn’t equal weakness, but it still didn’t completely ease the notion that he thought he should be fearless. But his expression did soften some as he truly began to grasp what she was saying. He swallowed hard, a brief glimmer of reassurance lighting his toxic green gaze. He felt tension seping out of his muscles as the gravity of what he’d achieved began to settle in- as his mother continued to clean his wound.

The boy’s gaze lingered on Absinth, a flicker of guilt passing over his face as he took in her words. He was quiet for a moment, his mind struggling to process the thought. But it was the sheer gentleness in her voice, undeterred by the hardness of her expression, that finally broke through the barriers he'd erected around himself. He looked up at her, his eyes shimmering pools of green, mirroring her own, and for the first time since the trial, he allowed himself to feel the intense clawing pain that thrummed with his heartbeat, the cold fear that had settled in his bones, and the warm relief flooding him at her comforting words. His breath hitched as raw emotions flooded him, a stifling lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. "B-but," he stammered out, clearly wrestling with his thoughts, eyes reflecting the internal turmoil.

He absorbed her words, his young mind attempting to understand their weight. He felt her nudge, rough but warm against his side, a reminder of the love that underpinned even her harshest lessons. He turned his gaze back to her, the pain and confusion in his eyes slowly replaced with a spark of determination, flaring into a spirited fire. Still, the thought of what he had done, what it meant, was overwhelming. A newfound understanding filled him – his life was not to be controlled by the Sultan's commandments but forged by his own courage and will.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the unwavering faith she had in him, and slowly - as her words sank in - he began to feel a semblance of strength creeping back into his battered body. He nodded, a small but fervent affirmation of his will to survive, to overcome. "Yes," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse but steady, "I will learn to use it." He leaned into her comforting touch, the softness of her fur against his own offering a soothing reprieve from the dull throbbing of his wounds.

"Xairo Saxe"

Absinth could feel her son's internal struggle subside, and while she hated the cause; she was content to simply be here for him to process his emotions. To comfort. Unlike her younger self, this boy did not have to experience sobbing at his mother’s feet, desperate for comfort, while she sneers and adds another injury on.

Absinth's heart swelled with pride as she saw the strength returning to her son's small body. She nuzzled him gently, her fur brushing against his in a motherly manner. “That's my brave boy.” She whispered, her voice filled with fiery warmth as she righted herself and him, setting him into the ground. “We will face these challenges together, and you will grow stronger with each one. I promise.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “But for now, let’s take a break from being warriors, hmm? How about we have a little fun?” She suggested, her voice light and playful. She gave him a gentle nudge, encouraging him to join her in a playful romp. “I know it might hurt, baby, but try. Come on, let’s see if you can catch me, let’s see that strength of yours!” She teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she bounded a few steps away, inviting him to chase her.

wormwood

A shiver of anticipation ran down Xairo's spine at his mother's words. He looked up at her, his large green eyes still twinkling with a hint of uncertainty. But there was also an unmistakable glimmer of resolve in them. He hoped that she was right.

But of course, Xairo's expressive green eyes widened at his mother’s unexpected proposition. A flash of anticipation sparked within him, momentarily pushing back the pain and exhaustion that cloaked him. His lips curled into a small, hesitant smile as he watched her bound away from him, her movements quick and graceful despite the winter's harsh touch. He could feel her gaze on him, encouraging and challenging at the same time. A warmth spread through his body, filling him with a newfound determination. Despite the lingering pain of his wounds, Xairo pushed himself to his feet, his fluffy blue coat bristling with newfound excitement. Emboldened by her challenge, he tossed his head back in a youthful bark of challenge and commenced his pursuit. His small paws dug into the soft snow, propelling him forward in short, powerful bursts. His wounds throbbed with each movement, a sharp reminder of the recent confrontation. He felt a surge of strength with each shaky step, the twinge of pain becoming a mere echo in their playful romp. He would be brave.

-end thread-
"Xairo Saxe"