Veteran’s Plateau Altar

*Zeitgeist* · 11-01-2022, 06:37 PM

TW: Suicide. Self Harm. Sads. Probably other stuff too.

When Zee was young would have never dreamed that one day she would run towards death rather than away from it. She had never been much of a fighter, no matter how her track record in recent events might say otherwise. For as long as she could remember her goal as a child had always been to secure a crown upon her head and to rise up above what any member of her humble family ever had. That ambition had led to Archon and then to Deathbelle, crumbling into dust beneath the Empress' gloved paw. The self-sold slave had developed an unlikely loyalty and love toward her mistress and furthermore, to her sworn protector (and soon to be Warlord,) Sirius. Their romance was a whirlwind, culminating in the birth of four perfect children in a territory they could call their own. Zee had the crown she had long dreamed of, but the accomplishment was nothing compared to that of her growing family.

Her children were and would always be the thing that mattered more than anything else in this world, and today she would leave them. It was a hard truth to accept, made harder by the fact that this would not be the first time that nine of the sixteen would have to face her death. Her kidnapping and subsequent disappearance had fractured many of her treasured relationships with her children. Zee could not blame them for it, not when they had all been made to come to terms with their denial, their anger, their grief, to attend a funeral, and to watch her 'bones' return to the earth. Some individuals had recovered enough to return to decent terms with her while others had split further as time went by. There were few she remained truly close with, and the acknowledgement of that divide had taken Zee seasons to overcome.

The birth of her newest litter was supposed to be a joyous occasion, something to heal that gaping hole in Zee's chest and to bring back her purpose in life. Without her children she was nothing; with them, she began to live again. It was cruel irony that it might have been the same event to bring about her demise. Regardless, Zee loved them. Cherished them. She found it too difficult to even consider their role in her sickness and doubled down on placing the blame on herself instead. On herself, fate, and the Gods that had previously blessed her and her family so generously. It made logical sense that the infection had stemmed from the crystal deformities three of her pups were born with, but would they have been made to suffer those deformities if Zee herself had not been similarly touched?

The Long Night was almost exclusively a period of pain and suffering, she should have considered the repercussions for the fur which had been regrown into crystalline shards. It was not the first time either that Zee had been 'blessed' by a God - or messenger of one, her faith was strong, though she had never sought to understand it beyond what was blatantly shown to her - and she was not the only member of her family to be blessed, either. Sirius and Zee both had acquired unique mutations in their adult life by such a figure, and then years later Zee's had been stolen away. It was made abundantly clear to her in the dark caverns of Descensum that somewhere along the line, she had fucked up. The fireflies had enraged and pelted themselves against her fur and in apology, Zee had offered up her precious horns. She might have thought at that moment in time that in offering them she would gain favor and not lose the mutation, but she was not permitted to entertain the idea very long. The horns vanished painlessly and she was sent home, leaving Zee apologetic, confused, and very understanding of the fact that the Gods did not make bluffs. It was why today as she stood before the stone altar, she knew her sacrifice would bring her no cure. If she offered the Gods her life then they would take it, and that would be that.

While she would not dare to try and cheat the Gods by requesting anything resembling a way to give back the life she was offering, Zee was not devoting herself without good reason. Her children may have for the most part grown and begun lives of their own, but it only felt right that she would give herself in their names.

Aslatiel and Indigo had visited the Armada most recently, their lives had been as wanderers as they felt they could not fit in at home. For this and much more, Zee felt tremendous guilt. She hadn't even been there to support her son when Indigo had lost a litter of children of his own, nor was she around to lend herself to Asla's pregnancy or to watch her pups grow. For her two soul-bound misfits, Zee prayed simply for peace and happiness. That they might find comfort in Valta and in each other.

Azure and Mortis had always been different sides of the same coin and it saddened Zee to know they would likely never rule in tandem, as was their plan. Each wolf held the best of the other within them, though rather than balance each other's extremes as they came of age, Mortis grew softer and Azure more hardened. Her gentle-hearted winged boy deserved the world and everything he ever dared to strive for, and Zee regretted not spending more time getting to know his mate. If only the men could bear children together... for without that, she was not sure if Mortis could ever truly be happy. Azure had taken up the mantle of leadership after his father and all that Zee could hope for was that the crown might do for him what it did for her husband. Sirius had been a cruel man once upon a time too, but wolves to call his own had brought out the best in him.

Her second litter had grown to become just as unique as the first, a sad fact as Zee had inescapably missed out on the majority of their first year. From little potatoes they had shot up and into grown wolves she could be proud of, even if she had such a little hand in it. Briar had found love the earliest of them all, moving away from her home pack to rule as the Hallows' Queen alongside her new husband. Attending their wedding had been an experience Zee would always treasure, and seeing the rest of the family come together to witness the vows gave her hope that even without her, they would all be okay. Now she had embarked on the next portion of her married life and had given birth to five perfect little puppies. If there was something Zee was most regretting, it was not being able to see her grandchildren (past, present and future) grow. Though she prayed for their good health and a happy life, Zee knew it was unnecessary. Briar would be a wonderful mother and alongside Artorias, the puppies had as bright a future as possible.

Kotori had aimed high too, reaching as great a height as any of her children when he challenged for the right to lead a pack of his own. While he may have lost the initial bout to claim Abaven's ashes, her son did not allow the failure to weaken his resolve. Not a season later he had placed his mark on the world and brought Valta to life. Providing the Armada a powerful new ally and to others of her children, offering a home. She had no choice in trusting Asla, Indy and Mortis' lives to her younger son, but still did not worry for them. Kotori's love for his family had always been something he had carried, and she knew he would make proud his father and lead them to the best of his ability. While it would be easy to hope that Valta could simply stand the test of time and become a constant in their world, Zee prayed differently for Kotori. The boy had always wanted a family, and Zee wished for him to find that love and fulfillment when the time was right.

Gossamer's growth was perhaps the most difficult to watch of them all. The young warrior had always shown an innate understanding of the art of combat, but had worked until she had mastered healing as well. By all rights she should have been one of the most successful of Zee's children, but fate had thrown her daughter curveball after curveball. The family's rivalry with the Pirates had only made life that much harder for Goss, who had fielded assault after assault on her person and even an attempted kidnapping. The saddest part was how each time her monochromatic girl seemed to build back up her self-confidence and begin to believe in herself, something inevitably always came up to drag her back into the ground. Zee had faith in her daughter even beyond the faith the girl could scavenge for herself. She prayed that one day Gossamer might finally soon see her true worth, beyond what the disruptive Pirates would have her believe.

Aris was a hard wolf to even think about at this time, fresh from the bomb that had been dropped on a sick Zee's bedside. Briar's grandkids would be the last she would see and meet, but not the last of even this year. True to her word she had promised not to share the girl's precious secret. She had faith that her second smallest of daughters could find the right time to reveal the new life that would soon find the Armada, perhaps it would be what the family needed to begin to heal. It was a never ending cycle, death and life, and while it hurt to know that these pups would never know her face it was comforting, too. It was irrefutable evidence that life would go on without her.

Of the youngest of pups, Zee was hopeful that things would turn out okay. Plenty of children lost their parents young and adjusted past it, and while youth could exacerbate trauma it could also in many places help to ease it. Kite, Vanta, Charlie, Andy, Dread, Stratum and Crux would have the love of their massive family to ease the weight from their tiny shoulders, and small gifts and mementos from their mother handed out by Sirius himself when the time was right.

Of the seven, Zee's concerns rested mostly upon the pups who had been born differently. Would they grow to realize that they may have had a hand in what had happened to her? Perhaps that was another reason she was so determined to follow this route to the altar; hoping that by not waiting the illness out that the pups when grown could have a rational argument that it was not their fault. To not be there to guide them was a difficult thought, she never wanted them to have to fight through life with disabilities and certainly not without the support of their mother. For them, she prayed a final time, focusing her thoughts and energy upon not just the three crystal-touched puppies but on all seven innocents. She begged the Gods to let them retain their childhoods and to shield them from the grief that was to come. To let them feel her presence around them in each individual's own defining moments, and to ensure they grew up free from the burden that was the cruel truth of their birth.

Zee had hardly noticed time passing as she stood before the altar, lost in her own thoughts. Beside her idled her faithful husband and mate, who accompanied her here to her own death against his own wants and needs. At one point Zee had been certain she would have needed someone to restrain him and lock him in a cell deep below the Hallows while she arrived here, but Sirius had been uncharacteristically accepting of this choice of hers. The choice to leave him, however early it may be. She pushed off from where she had been leaning against his fur, slipping off her cheetah pelt and helping him to slide it overtop his broad shoulders. Gently she slid her neck up along his own, nuzzling her cheek against his own and stealing a lingering kiss from his lips. "I love you. Remember your promise." She said, but beneath the words was more. 'Please don't hate me.'

Approaching the altar with her greatest vessel of strength left behind her, Zee could hardly tip her head up to look the towering statue in the eye. He was carved in the shape of a warrior, that much she could discern. A life in the Armada watching some of the strongest of fighters learn and grow had left little to the imagination on what battle did to wolves both of body and of spirit. From the proud posture he held to the chunks missing from the stone flesh, Zee found it easy to determine what was at the heart of this wolf. It all boiled down in the end to pain and blood. This statue - this God - had seen pain, felt pain, inflicted pain. He had spilled blood and bled himself. Zee found herself suddenly second guessing her plan to drink the vial she had brought along. To take the cowards way out and opt for a dreamless sleep. She was desperate to do this right and achieve the best chance she could at having her prayers for her family answered. If that meant blood and pain, then she only hoped it would not last long. At least for Sirius' sake.

Projecting her voice, she began to address the sneering statue. "I come to you willingly, to give myself and all that I am in tribute to the Gods."The last time the cloaked figure had appeared to her, his words had been a mystery, a riddle to be solved. Zee had bypassed the offer of unique and mysterious items upon his table and had asked the God instead to offer his protection to her loved ones. She stood before it now with the missing piece of the puzzle, believing to now fully understand the God's lesson. 'In times like these, your horns may not aide you as well as your being.' He had said to her that night. Zee understood now that her whole self was the very best she could offer and the most effective way to protect those that she loved.

Though she felt the urge to turn back and look upon her husband once more, Zee did not want the last thing she saw to be the devastation on his face. Destruction she had brought upon him with her own words and her own actions. It was selfish, but when could one be forgiven for a little selfishness, if not at the moment of their own death? "Close your eyes, Seer." She said aloud, knowing he would be listening to her every movement, word, and breath, though she would not turn to see if he obeyed her request or not.

Heart pounding, the sickly woman took in a deep and grounding breath. She was scared, yes, but fear was a natural part of this that she would not attempt to deny. Only idiots did not fear death, and the warriors who entered a battlefield with no worry for whether or not they would return home were less effective warriors. Fear was necessary for survival, so why should it not have an important place at death's table, too? Zee accepted the feeling and closed her eyes, entertaining the emotion respectfully while it came and passed. When her eyes reopened to look back upon the statue once more, her resolve was as strong as it was going to get.

One forelimb stretched out toward the roughly carved stone, her paw pad sliding up and down the edges gently until she had found one that might be suitable for her needs. Before she could change her mind on it, Zee pressed her limb down hard and pulled it back toward her, rending open the flesh on her forearm and beginning a steady stream of blood down the statue's own limb. Somehow the pain was much less then she had anticipated and steeled herself for, and while quickly her vision was beginning to grow dim at the edges, she maintained enough clarity to repeat the process with the other limb. She had more limbs and more arteries, but was woefully unable to ignore the presence of her beloved mate behind her. Sparing him more suffering, Zee declared the amount of bloodshed to be enough for her purposes.

With her time draining, Zee took the last moments of clarity to curl her body around the crimson flecked paws of the statue, resting her spine against the stone slab altar and tucking her tail in submission. Her neck extended outward and off to the side, offering her throat to the God while her blood continued to drain out and pool around his paws. She did not remember holding the position long before her weakness intensified, the drowsy fog of blood loss quickly overtaking her. 'For my family.' She thought before the world went black.

-Exit via Death-

"Speech"

NPC:

The tabby watches you with eyes that say it seems to understand what you’re planning to do, gently raising its tail to silence another familiar that was about to speak, seeming to understand as well and protest your choice. The tabby’s gaze never leaves you as you step forward, a few soft voices start to lift in protest to what they can see you’re about to do but older voices quickly shush them. It seems this is not something totally foreign to the more experienced creatures and a hush falls over the familiars, a few quickly shuffle a few things out of the way and then they all stand back, some turning away and others refusing to look away. Only the tabby stays close to the statue, never once leaving its post. It watches you in silence as you speak your intentions aloud, it hardly even blinks as you cut yourself open and allow yourself to bleed over the stone.

Somewhere, however, something shudders as your blood flows, and the direction of the air changes somehow, although there is no breeze to be felt.

It is as if the air is buzzing.

The tabby moves only when you settle yourself upon the plain rock base, a low, stuttering purr the only noise it makes as it settles itself beside you, a small pocket of warmth as the heat starts to bleed from your body just as you had bled yourself only moments before.

Your horns miraculously feel warm still, although usually they provide no real feeling at all. The tips hum with the vibration in the air, moving to your ears. He tells you to hold on just a moment longer.

How much time passes will be hard to say, for the unfortunate living who are present to see your offering it will be mere moments between this gesture and your final breath, but for you, your consciousness will stand in stasis for some time. You will die, or you are already dead, you’re not sure. A light red glows above you, in the space you can assume is the eyes of the statue, pulsing at the edges of your vision, slowly growing stronger until it is all around you, blocking out the world that once existed around the statue, all you can see is white, the edges of your vision tinged in red. There is no malice here though. You are dead, or you are dying, you’re still not sure, and nothing more will hurt you here. A form materialises from the white… Or maybe it was always there. It is a shape, unmoving, but flickering so not unmoving. A shape identical in silhouette to the statue you offered your life to, two pin pricks of red eyes the only solid part of the shape which is translucent and hardly visible except for its constantly shifting outline.

Another figure, though cloaked, hazes in the space behind the statue, but your focus remains on the altar’s form.

A voice, deep but ambiguous in its gender, reaches you. It echoes around you, or it’s in your head, you are not sure. “Sometimes the soundest choice a warrior can make is knowing when you cannot win, and choosing the terms of your losses.” It says, the voice softer somehow than you would have assumed from the imposing form it seems to belong too. “This is not a defeat, merely a tie.”

“Death and I are not the same, cousins though we may be, and there is much overlap in our domains.” There was a sound you could not describe it seemed to last for centuries, it seemed to last less than a second. The voice was laughing. “Not every death comes from battle, but every battle brushes against death and in this moment I recognize your fight, your fights, and welcome you to come and share your stories, bring us tales of your glories and your failures, share with us your hard earned adventures.”

Though the shimmering, hardly visible form never moves from the pose you saw in life, wide stance, head thrown back… You get the feeling it is tipping its head and listening for something you cannot hear…

The figure behind the statue reaches out, placing a glowing hand on the statue’s shoulder for a moment.

“Or that is what I wish to tell you, but it appears you already have been claimed by another. I am sorry, sister.”

The two glowing red eyes split. They go from two red dots to four, then to eight, a seemingly never ending cycle of red mitosis until the figure is lost behind a curtain of flowing red, and a low hum builds in the air, in your head, you’re not sure. The hum slowly gets louder, growing from a hum to a cacophony. It is not a hum, it is buzzing. You realize with a start, with a sluggishness that you’ve never felt before, that the red dots have always been little red fireflies. The curtain of red flies move towards you, they blanket you, they swarm you, they caress you and they deafen you with their noise. The last thing you realize before the fireflies blot out your vision is that the warmth of the tabby is gone, you had not even noticed it had been there the whole time and now it fades, a cool spot growing where its heat once was and then everything around you goes black. But you are not dead, or not dying, yet, of this you are sure.

”There is clarity in death,” a familiar voice echoes. Your vision returns and you are standing before the statue again, everything frozen in time just before the first drop of blood falls from your veins. ”But your story isn’t over just yet, wolf.” The cloaked figure of thousands of fireflies kneels on one knee before you, his buzzing hand outstretched. ”Come,” he says, and you do so without thought, stepping out of your body, you turn and watch as time resumes and you take your life. You see as your husband clings to you, offering you his love as your blood clings to him.

And yet as you watch it, it is like watching a memory.

The figure stands and all that around the two of you fades. You walk for a while, silently, working out all the cricks and aches your body had in life.

In the woods, the man pauses and holds out a ghostly mask in the shape of a tiger’s face. A few fireflies take it and loop the elastic around your horns, which you now realize have grown in size, but feel weightless.

The figure beacons, ”Come, I have a Very Good Friend I would like you to meet…”

You have received:
A Somnium breeding pass

Staff: note when claimed

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Veteran’s Plateau Altar

Zeitgeist