Her children were getting older now and she was angry at herself for missing so much of their lives already, but there was nothing that could be done. Any of them could have perished from the illness her, Terror, or Phantasm had so breaking the quarantine wouldn't have been a good thing. She couldn't imagine losing her children, not even one of them, so she hoped that none of them were too angry with her.

Widow wasn't the kind to buy back their love and affection, however. If they were angry with her, perhaps time would heal and they would begin to understand as they aged. As she wandered the dancefloor, she searched for any one of her children with the hopes that she could find them enjoying the bright autumn day. It was a pleasant day after all, certainly one worth spending outside rather than inside the dark and cold gorge.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Illusion treaded the familiar path back to the gorge, her mind worked like a well-oiled machine of detached calculation. She had ventured out alone, stalked her prey, and sated the hunger that gnawed at her insides. The hunt had been a success, yet the victory over the deer fawn brought her little satisfaction. It was monotonous. She had done as she always did, a careful dissection of her favorite organs and meats, then tinkered with the rest while she ate. A bit of amusement, to say the least.

As she crossed the Dancefloor, her steps faltered, a flicker of recognition lit up her otherwise indifferent silver eyes. It was a disturbance in the carefully curated facade of her being. Her lips curled, a splash of anger washing over her as the girl held back a hiss. Her first thought? Did Cadaver know yet? Would she be fighting for his attention again? Already when he spent most of his time away, out of her reach? What about when they grew older, would he wander even further away? Her calm, cool composure fell in an instant. Her mother, Widow, had been largely absent in recent months, her whereabouts shrouded in mystery – something about an illness. But abandonment nonetheless had rocked she and her brother's worlds.

She surged forward, rounded a bend in her grassy path, before she spotted her mother standing among the sunlit plain. She looked haggard. Older, almost. Illusion's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing and searching for answers, a true visual dissection of her mother. She stood observing for a moment, before she announced her approach with a hum, the last song her mother never got to listen to before she’d left them without a word. Illusion’s expression was uncontrolled, so unlike the manufactured visage she allowed others to see, glacial detachment and a hint of anger there for a moment before she put the mask up. Perhaps her mother saw -- perhaps she watched the switch occur, but Illusion had little care for her slip up in that moment. Her beautiful features warping into softness instead of hard lines, her eyes rounding and filling with sorrowful affection. She looked so much like her mother now, and as she approached her first year the girl had matured some in her mother's absence and was steadily growing into an ethereal vision.

“Mother?” A sweet, twinkling voice called out, followed by a blur of deep slate and gold as the girl rushed to embrace her mother. Illusion's mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions churning beneath her carefully composed exterior. Her brother, her beloved Cadaver, was hers, the only source of warmth in the cold darkness she found life to be. And now, faced with the return of their mother, a seed of doubt blossomed within her, and a primal instinct to protect what was hers. Even from her own mother, if she dared to take her brother away. If she distracted him. He was meant to pay attention to Illusion. He was the only one that could understand her.

“Why did you leave?” Illusion demanded, her voice weak and shaky with accusation. “Where have you been?” She feigned distress, a skillful charade that masked her true emotions. Though she could not help the fact that beneath the facade of concern lay a burning curiosity, a desire to unravel the mystery of her mother's absence. Illusion craved answers, and she sought to hear from Widow's own lips the justification for her sudden disappearance.

For the girl who felt so little, The longing for maternal affection, once a consuming obsession, had been supplanted now by a steadfast fixation on her brother. But the lingering question remained: why had Widow forsaken her, leaving behind a void that Illusion struggled to fill? The umbilical cord of her obsession on maternal attention had been cut, redirected towards a more steadfast source of affection. But the wounds left by her mother's absence still throbbed, still reminded her of what she could lose again.

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All of her children were very dear to her, but she would be lying if she wasn't a teensy bit more fond of Illusion compared to her other littermates. A vain woman, Illusion looked the most like her and it made her proud. She was a beautiful woman, she knew that about herself, but Illusion was no different. Side by side they looked like sisters if it wasn't for Illusions age hovering on the verge of yearling. Illusion would never be as tall as her, but that didn't matter. Once upon a time, Widow hated her own height and would've given anything to have a more modest stature. These days, she was proud to stand taller than most others and had even found others that rivaled her in size, making her much less of the oddity that she thought she was.

She hadn't noticed Illusion at first, but the crunching of grass beneath the childs paws as she closed the distance certainly got her attention. Before she knew it, the young girl was pressing herself into her. Their fur mixed and it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began, but that was alright with Widow. She loved holding her children close. She couldn't expect every reunion to be a happy one. Honestly, she felt a lot more like her own mother than she wanted to having more or less abandoned them, but it was to keep them all safe, not just a few of them. She could only hope that Illusion would understand.

"Terror was sick, and so was one of Medusa's oldest children. So sick that we feared for the pack, and especially the other children. I became sick while treating them, but we're all better now. I will never leave you again, my love, and I am so sorry that I had to to begin with" she cooed as she held her daughter close, nuzzling into her and refusing to let go until Illusion made the move first. An apology was all she had ever wanted from her mother after she was abandoned, so she could only hope it would weigh the same today with the roles somewhat reversed.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Illusion's mind simmered with calculation as her mother's words washed over her. She kept her mask on, kept her eyes dewy and injected a shakiness to her overall delicate body. But below that facade of emotion and concern and hurt, her thoughts danced with the skill of a master manipulator, weaving a web of deception as she clung to her mother. She smelled the same, she felt the same. Her mother.

“Momma,” The girl purred, her voice honeyed with false sincerity, her silver eyes gleaming with a cold intensity as she stared out over her mother’s shoulder. “I understand why you left now, but it still hurts,” She continued, words dripping with carefully crafted emotion. That of pain and insecurity. “I felt abandoned, like I wasn't important enough for you to stay.” This was a calculated attempt to evoke sympathy from her mother. Illusion knew the power of her words, how they could twist and bend the truth to suit her own desires. She focused on her face now, before her mother could see, painting it with the sweet innocence of a girl who loves a person who has hurt them. “But,” She added, her voice came softly as she met her mother's gaze, “I want to believe you.” It was a lie, of course – a design to keep her mother under her control. Didn’t she mean that much to her? Even if her mother saw through the lie, wouldn’t she oblige this girl who deserved the world and then some? “I want to believe that you'll never leave us again, that you'll always be there when we need you.” When I need you.

In reality, Illusion cared little for her mother's presence or absence. Her only concern was the attention she could glean from their interactions, the power she could wield over her mother's emotions. And if she could not get it from her, or her blood and flesh, she would seek it out – wherever she could get it. She would play the role of the dutiful daughter, showering her mother with false affection and hollow promises, as long as her eyes were on Illusion alone.
illu

Widow could never leave her children by choice. She would not be her mother. If she could have taken them with her into quarantine, she most certainly would have.. but that would be risking their lives. Just because Tazzy and Terror pulled through did not mean that one of the others wouldn't have perished. She was happy that they were all healthy, though she knew it was probably hard for them to be happy.

"Of course, Illusion, I will always be here for all of you. I'm sorry you felt abandoned, I wish I could have been here for you then," she said with a sad smile and leaned down to nuzzle her gently. "So tell me what all you have done while I was sick?" she questioned, trying to change the subject up a bit in hopes that it would make for a lighter mood.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Illusion felt a twinge of satisfaction at her mother's response, her mask of false sincerity never faltering as she soaked in Widow's reassurances. It was all too easy to manipulate her mother, to steer the conversation in a direction that suited her own agenda. As Widow leaned down to nuzzle her, Illusion resisted the urge to recoil, maintaining her facade of affection as she basked in the attention. “Okay, Momma,” The girl murmured, her voice layered with a delicate vulnerability, a soft giggle escaping her. “I just missed having you around, you know?” Her words dripped with feigned sincerity, silver eyes peering up to twinkle happily at her mother. Illusion reveled in the power she could hold over others, relishing in her manipulative nature – just like now. “I’ve been practicing a few things! I’m even better at singing now, and I’ve started learning to fight too. I thought I wanted to be a healer.. But when you left I thought being able to protect myself was more important. So Cadaver wouldn’t always have to.” Another small seed of guilt, though the girl couldn’t help but gush over her brother for a moment before she realized he’d gone off on his own again. Where was he? She felt the prickles of anger simmer below her fur, as her brother refused to stay put in one place.
illu

The guilt and regret that she felt made it easy for her to fall for Illusions little game. She vowed to be better from here on out, though she knew that would be quite the task given the lasting effect it had certainly began to have.

"I know sweetheart, I wish things could've been different," she responded with a sad smile, though she was eager to hear what she had been up to and it quickly formed into a more pleasant expression, happy that her daughter was discovering herself. She was even seemingly close to Cadaver and wondered if their relationship dipped in the same direction that she knew Terror and Gruesome were headed in. She just wanted her children to be happy, and if that meant in the arms of a sibling... well, she wouldn't complain.

"I would love for you to sing me a song sometime," she began with the same smile, pausing for a moment before continuing. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman, and a strong one at that. I'm proud of you," she finished and leaned forward to nuzzle her once more.

"Speech!"

CODE © SKELLE/WITCHDOGTOR DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Illusion's silver eyes glinted with an unspoken triumph as her mother spoke, each word spoken as proof of the effectiveness of her carefully crafted manipulation. She maintained her facade, letting a delicate smile play on her lips as Widow's words washed over her.

’I know, sweetheart, I wish things could've been different.’ Widow began, her voice tinged with regret. Illusion noted the shift in her mother's expression, from sadness to a more pleasant demeanor, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

When Widow mentioned her eagerness to hear Illusion sing, the young girl’s smile widened, genuine delight intermingling with her hidden agenda. “Oh, Momma, I'd love to sing for you!” She purred, her voice dripping with sweetness. And Widow's praise, calling her beautiful and strong, filled Illusion with a mixture of pride and gratification. She reveled in the power she held over her mother, the ability to draw out such affectionate words even when her heart harbored such dark intentions. As Widow leaned in to nuzzle her once more, Illusion pressed into the gesture, her own nuzzle tender and seemingly full of love.

“Thank you, Momma.” She murmured, her voice a soft whisper against Widow's fur. “It means so much to hear you say that.” As she spoke, her mind continued to churn, always calculating, always planning. For now, she focused on the immediate task of keeping her mother ensnared in her web of deceit, ensuring that Widow's guilt and regret continued to work in her favor.
illu