hell's bells

*Atropos* · 04-13-2023, 07:20 AM

Weeds. Atropos needed to check the weeds. She needed to search the weeds, to check the weeds. She needed weeds but not just any weeds. Special weeds. Dangerous weeds. Pretty weeds, but dangerous weeds. Atropos was pretty. She was dangerous. She was just like the weeds. She needed to find the ones that were just like her. She needed to rummage and search. Rummage. Find what she needs. Leave. Leave without being seen. Why was it important she not be seen? Who would want to be seen with dangerous weeds. Who would want to be seen being dangerous? Suspicious. Shady. Atropos would maintain that she is not suspicious. She is not shady. Not if you ask her. No, don’t ask her. Who would ask such a suspicious and shady question? Certainly not Atropos.

The thing about weeds, you have to understand, is that they’ll grow anywhere. They’ll grow big and they’ll grow strong, whether you want them to or not. The more you hate them, the more they thrive. Atropos had something in common with weeds. The less they want her to thrive, the more she will. The less they wanted her to survive, the more she did. A runt of a creature. A runt, but a thriving one. Realize it’s dangerous from an early age. Encourage the danger. Realize it’s unhinged a little later. Its too late. It was too late for all of them. Dangerous. Unhinged. Deadly combination. Just like the weeds she was searching for, she is a deadly combination. Atropos was pleased with herself. She hadn’t been culled. She made it. Always made it. Come out swinging, she’ll always make it. Grow, regardless of the circumstances. Become ungovernable.

Wild. A wild look in her eye as she made her way to the Wall. The Wall that seemed to sprout up out of nowhere. Out of nowhere, and into nothingness. Crumbling. Crumbling and abandoned, much like everything else around here. How strange. How bizarre. She is strange and bizarre. Maybe that’s why she likes it. Maybe that’s why she hates it. The small creature fixes a hateful gaze on the effigy to a civilization lost. An effigy must be burned… no. Not the time. She’d come with a quest. She’d come with a reason. She’d come for the weeds. Cannot burn it. Not now. Not yet? Yet to be seen. Certainly not now. Atropos growled to herself. She cannot burn something she actually needs. Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be in a huff about it.

Around her shoulders, the light of the afternoon. She’d only just woken up, and here she was, out being productive. Hissing to herself as she went. Why was the weather always so shit? Why had her dearest sister chosen somewhere so far up? Not a fan of the cold and considering that she needs the cute boy with the warm coat to come back, the girl uses the crumbling wall as a windbreak. Keep looking. Keep looking. It had to be out here somewhere. It had to be… she wasn’t going home empty handed. She wasn’t going home without something to show for it. If Atropos would sleep all day, then she may as well be useful while she was awake. That, or she’d go looking for him again. Maybe once she’d done what she set out to do. Maybe… maybe she could make him help? Or something. He did smell nice, after all.

Smell. Use your nose. Shit, right, she could use her nose. Atropos fixed her attention back on the weeds. Smell for the weeds. They were here somewhere. There were more here somewhere. From patch to patch of weeds, she made her way, scratching at them the whole time. Scratching at each cluster, at each patch, rather intently as she did. Faster she was done with this, faster she could go hunting. Faster she could go hunting for him. That was motivation enough, as it was. She could motivate herself with the promise of the boy. Yes. Yes, yes, the boy. Atropos was tricking herself into working harder. That seemed like a reasonable thing to do. A reasonable thing for anyone to do. Perhaps it was the most reasonable decision she’d made all day.

Snuffling through the weeds and the dirt, scratching away at it. It wasn’t too terribly long until she found it. Not long, but too long. How could both of these things be true? Atropos wasn’t about to explain it. Still, she was pleased with her find. The little white flowers were budding. Tiny, tightly packed together still. All closed up to the outside world. Pretty. Toxic. Pretty toxic. Atropos smiled to herself, pleased. Carefully scratching them free, roots and all. Careful. Be careful. She, too, is pretty. She, too, is toxic. Pretty toxic. Atropos can relate wholeheartedly. At least she found what she searched, out here.

Gently, the girl lays down a thick strip of leather. Leave no trace. Leave no trace other than the dozens of scratched up patches of weeds along the Wall. Oops. Oops, but also not oops. Maybe there would be more here when she came back later. Maybe there would be more weeds for her to scratch through the next time around. That was how this grew… right? Right. Hm. That seemed reasonable, at least in her mind. Nosing the jimson weed onto the leather strip, she had to be careful. Do not eat. Do not lick. Touch as little as possible. Atropos wouldn’t be getting sick today, thank you. She would not poison herself. No, only someone else. And if she used this to poison, then she’d have nothing to grow more from. That would be the worst of it all. Find a little. Grow a lot. Easy.

The woman rolls the strip of leather with her carefully picked herbs, and ties it off with a tidy little bow. This was good. She’d done what she needed to do for the day, and now? Well, now she could enjoy the rest of it. Atropos could enjoy. Good. Yes, quite good. With her head held high, the little demon slunk on towards home.

atropos
feelin like a freak on a leash
you wanna see the light

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hell's bells

seasonal

Atropos