The Raven's Cry

Absinth met Sephiran's gaze with verdant flames of amusement dancing in her eyes, her lips curling into a wicked smile as his eyes roamed her frame. Particularly her new antlers. You know, at the end of the day he was a stiff bastard — but she could play her cards well and she sort of liked him that way. Primitive creature that he was, she wasn’t going to declare any semblance of affection for him but the iron will he demonstrated was a thing she could respect. Absinth wouldn’t be here otherwise. Couldn’t have been kept under a weak ruler. Molded and crafted by her father and her childhood, the monochromatic woman had no difficulty finding her place among the monstrous Saxe’s. But make no mistake, she was not a blind, bloodthirsty fool bent on destruction. She was well aware of the effect her presence had on both allies and adversaries alike, and she wore it like a cloak of power. She was useful. She was fearless. She smirked at her Sultan’s observation, her chin tilting up to regard him as she listened to his words.

Her ravens peered at Sephiran with curiosity, their beady eyes in particular catching on his golden markings. They knew she had a flock of her own, and so loyal to the woman they had not the slightest issue feeling comfortable in his presence. Anyone Absinth trusted, they trusted. One croaked to the other ‘Shiny! Gift! Gift!’ And the other responded with a gravelly chirp in kind, ‘Purple-Gold! Purple Gold King!’ The birds bobbed their heads to each other, tapping their beaks on Absinth’s antlers before taking flight with a gust of wind.

Absinth grinned, watching as they began to spread their words, began to point him out to the other ravens. “They want to bring you a gift.” With a swish of her tail, the monochromatic fae made a half circle around Sephiran as she observed her birds, her voice falling from inky lips like some dark promise. Returning her gaze back to him she watched as Sephiran's posture shifted, his demeanor radiating authority and conceit. His words carried a challenge, a test of her capabilities, she wagered. “The birds are loyal to those who offer them purpose and companionship.” Absinth replied, her voice a melodic purr laced with confidence. “And I have provided them with just that. I am as loyal to them as they are to me.” Possibly the words of a mad woman, but she so adored her birds. It was there in her gaze, those orbs as sharp as knives but so affectionate to her flock above.

A spark of mischief glinted in Absinth's eyes as she considered his proposition. Training the ravens to patrol and gather intelligence was indeed within her skill set, a task she had undertaken before with success already. She does it every day, for her own personal benefit. Absinth recognized the underlying implication of Sephiran's words — that her worth was being challenged once again.

“Of course, I can train them, they are so very intelligent, after all.” Absinth replied smoothly, her tone betraying none of the doubts that may have lingered beneath the surface. Which, there were none. “But there is one rule these birds follow. It must be respected. You see, if you treat even one of their flock badly, they will see, they will remember, and they will never trust that soul again. True, they are birds. Their existences are short and fleeting, but they have stories from decades ago, by word of mouth. Kill one? And their ancestors will always be there to bring you to ruin.” The words were a tale of caution, a good reason why she was the only one for the job. Absinth knew the birds like none other. She was practically a Raven herself. She held his gaze, unflinching, a declaration of her confidence in her own abilities but the facts in the open. The challenge was accepted, and Absinth was more than ready to prove herself. She needed only the word to get started.

wormwood