Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

Absinth moved silently along the wall bordering the Syndicate’s territory, her flock a dark, whispering cloud in the tree line around her. They came and went as they wished, offering her trinkets and morsels alike; and she offered her emerald gaze to each, appreciative of their attention. Her job had been easy thus far, the patrols of her birds, the constant kraws of a secured network — the woman merely had to do what she loved all the while. Keeping them content and loyal as she raised the first generation from the ground up.

Today however, they alerted her to the presence of a bird they did not recognize, a speck which had descended from the sky. By the time she herself had laid eyes on it, she doubted it was any kind of enemy reconnaissance corvid. Intrigued, she watched as it hovered above the wall, its head tilting curiously. Just another wild soul, most probably.

The bird didn’t seem suspicious, just out of place. It landed amongst the snow and stone, kicking away the snow to reveal the stone beneath. Its tapping echoed in the cold air, a constant, rhythmic sound. Absinth smiled, that impish curl of her inky lips splitting her face in two. They never ceased to amuse.

She signaled to her ravens, their beady eyes following her command. They circled lower, their black wings creating a dark halo against the gray sky. She stepped forward, her movements fluid and silent, until she was close enough to be seen but not be a threat. “Curious, aren’t you?” She called out, her voice carrying just enough to reach the new bird. Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous delight as she studied it. It wasn’t as though she had a shortage of Ravens to entertain and be entertained by, but that did little to deter her from seeking their companionship anyways. “You are not one of mine, but brave enough to poke around here in this cold north.” She smiled, the antlers strapped to her skull occasionally gained and lost a perched feathered friend who took a turn peeking at the new bird as she stood there. Fickle things.


wormwood