the world swims back into focus like this: pieces that start small, like fragments, then come together to form larger pieces, slotting beside each other until the cracks disappear and the individual portions meld into one giant image - which wavers before Yarra’s eyes, elusive and not quite tangible, for what might be hours or days or years. eternity. then the pain slams into her with all the force of a bison, and a muffled groan is pulled from her ruined throat as red and black dance unceasingly across her mind. agony throbs from every part of her, all culminating into one awful fuckery of painpainowwhathefuckwhypainwhenigetmyhandsonthatslimyfuckerimgonnaOWfuckingOWW - she lifts her head for a moment, decides actually no fuck that, and flops back to the earth as she stares dazedly up at the sky above. it’s a pale blue morning, birdsong twittering in her ears and butterfly sunlight falling across her in delicate slants. it’s a mockery of a thing, to lie amidst such tranquil beauty while she filters in and out of untenable pain. against the picture-perfect backdrop she is an ugly wound, a gash of scarlet upon a perfect morning, sucking every last ounce of beauty from the scene like marrow from bone. her pelt is the colour of drying blood, her ichor leaking into the grass in macabre rivulets of liquid ruby. after several minutes of laying perfectly still, a bird alights on her nose and she doesn’t even have the energy to snake it up, too injured to lift a paw against the feathered onslaught. in fact, she merely lifts her chin and basks in the aesthetic value the bird provides; she must look wonderfully tragic, reclining elegantly as blood seeps from her veins, eyes trained to the sky, a crow warbling mournfully from the sharp incline of her snout. death incarnate. a woman undone. "Speech"

In the heart of the mangrove forest, where the shadows danced, and secrets lay hidden, Absinth prowled with curiosity. She had scented Yarra around the area, and always eager to meet her brutal darling she had been tracking her down, careful not to disturb her if she were hunting or securing herself a new pet. Absinth felt as though she was rather close to her quarry, when the stench of metallic blood hit her nares all at once. Her senses immediately heightened, each step fueling the fire of displeasure that smoldered within her. That was Yarra’s blood. It was trailed away, back from where Absinth had come from, but not quite on the original trail. It must have been the one who had claimed the blood from her, but Absinth could not get a proper scent from that trail. It only smelled like salt water. She did not linger long on the attackers trail, instead whipping her attention back to the matter at hand. Where was Yarra? Had she been in a fight?

And then, amidst a clearing bathed in the soft hues of dawn, she found her. Yarra, that addictive woman, lay crumpled upon the ground, her form marred by the cruel hand of fate. Anger pierced Absinth's heart like a dagger as she beheld the sight, her fury simmering beneath the surface like a tempest waiting to be unleashed. A crow sat atop the woman’s nose, her gaze frozen to the sky. Truly a dramatic picture, one she hated to have witnessed of the fierce Saxe woman. With a growl of pent-up rage, Absinth rushed forward and knelt beside Yarra, her paw moving carefully to press gently into the blood stained fur of Yarra’s cheek, a stark reminder of the violence that had befallen her. The crow shooed off by the proximity of another wolf was like an omen above their heads, and Absinth's vision blurred with a red haze as her voice finally came to her.

"Oh, Yarra. Who did this to you?" She demanded, her voice a low, soft snarl that echoed through the stillness of the forest. Her emerald eyes flashed with a primal ferocity, her claws digging into the earth beneath her with an intensity befitting the cruel monochromatic wench. "Shall I hunt them down?" Absinth's anger softened, replaced by a protectiveness that lay heavy in her chest as her voice cooed her sickly sweet offer. Of course she did not think Yarrabelle weak, nor that she could not handle her own problems… but anger was a funny thing, and it urged Absinth to get revenge for Yarrabelle. Who had hurt her lovely, wicked lady? "What happened?" Her voice whispered, a small comfort against the solitude that surrounded them. Her muzzle moved to press into the side of Yarra’s own snout, pressing for answers. How long had she laid here, beaten and bloody? What else had the attacker done to her? Was this… what Absinth looked like when Rhazien was done with her? The thought disgusted her.

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her voice is blessed, divine, rousing Yarra from that in-between place of here and not with mere words alone. her form gains definition before the Saxe woman’s very eyes, resolving from a smidge of black and white to green eyes and dark face and snowy brows. Absinth. her presence is like a balm, dulling the worst of Yarra’s aches and chasing the red throb of agony from her mind, replaced instead with thoughts only of the goddess shimmering before her. Yarra’s tongue, dry and heavy, unfurls from between clenched teeth and rasps against the roof of her mouth in some poor approximation of speech. “he…did.” red eyes, white fur, a hellfire man of ice and fire. the devil. “he was a beast, a…a monster.” a grim chuckle spills from cracked lips, almost hysterical as she recalls the brutality with which he pressed her to the dirt, taking and taking and taking. green eyes roll in Absinth’s direction, drinking her in like a starving man. “will you put me back together, darling?” she purrs, faintly delirious with bloodloss and hunger. “will you kiss me better?” ordinarily, she’d despise the fact that someone is seeing her like this - weak, vulnerable - but with Absi, she finds she doesn’t mind. it feels like just another secret shared between them, like trading a piece of herself on credit, knowing she’ll be reimbursed in full. it might just be whatever passes for trust in her fucked up head. gritting her teeth, pain screams through Yarra as she attempts to get to her feet, rolling onto her stomach and scrabbling ineffectually at the dirt. unfortunately that’s as far as she gets, for her head begins to spin and her wounds pulse with an agony too fervid to ignore. huffing, Yarra rests her chin on her paws and shoots the ground a mutinous glare. “my, how infuriating.” her eyes dart back, as they’re want to do, in Absinth’s direction, and a frown pulls her brows taut. something is flickering hazily at the edges of her mind, something she can’t quite grasp. “…need to tell you…something…” she mumbles, scowling in frustration. her brain is slippery, and every thought whisks through her fingers like sand. "Speech"

Despite the fury boiling within her veins, she masked it behind a veil of tenderness, her touch gentle as she reached out to stroke Yarra’s cheek repeatedly. The Saxe woman's voice, though weakened by suffering, carried a resonance that stirred Absinth. It reminded her of herself, at rock bottom. To see Yarra, usually so strong and defiant, reduced to this state of vulnerability – Absinth’s mind conspired to bring great suffering in return to whoever had caused this… undoing. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“He… did.” Absinth’s eyes narrowed, her muscles tensing as Yarrabelle began to try and explain what happened. It did not make a lot of sense, but she supposed in her condition Yarra was just trying to get the important bits out. Absinth's fangs clenched with restrained rage, her only desire became to begin cursing and snarling. To run wild, nose to the ground to seek out that salty ocean scent she had come across minutes before she had discovered Yarra. Even if she did not know if that had truly been the culprit. “He was a beast, a… a monster.” A chuckle from Yarra, a finely tread line between sanity and insanity hung over her features, which brought about a flattening of Absinth’s ears as she mulled the words over. What sort of soul would have Yarrabelle calling them a monster? Just what the fuck did she experience? The image of her wicked lady being brutalized fueled that angry fire of hers all the more. Fucking- UGH. Her teeth cut into her quivering lips at the force she was using to hold her tongue all the while. Yet, she tempered her wrath again, focusing instead on easing Yarra's suffering. Absinth listened intently, her green eyes seeking to lock with those of Yarrabelle’s, unwilling to dwell on concern, and most definitely not pity. That was simply out of the question.

When Yarra implored for her touch, for solace, Absinth's bloodied lips twitched upwards into a smirk. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against Yarra's forehead, leaving a lipstick mark of blood on the dark fur there. "You don’t need me to put you back together, lovely. You are perfectly strong enough, always were, always will be." She whispered, her voice a soft rumble as she breathed against Yarra’s skull. She knew that Yarra was strong, resilient in her own right, and deserving of the chance to stand tall once more. "But if my kisses will ease the process, I won’t deny you. Nor my shoulder, to catch yourself if you begin to fall." A rugged, airy laugh escaped the monochromatic woman as she cocked a brow at Yarrabelle – watching as the magenta woman attempted to rise to her feet. It was much too soon. Though she would not stop her.

And as Yarra struggled to rise, defiance etched upon her features, Absinth's fondness for her only deepened. She watched with unwavering support, ready to lend a helping hand should indeed Yarra falter. But just as she had been during her own maiming aftermath, she gave her the chance to try to stand on her own two feet. Yet, the pain and exhaustion was too great, and Yarra did not even get to test the strength in her limbs before she laid her head back down with a huff. Absinth leaned closer, her brow furrowing as she took in the look of displeasure on the other woman’s face. Infuriating, indeed. Gently, Absinth settled down onto the ground next to her, her body moving to conform against Yarra’s heavier figure. She would definitely need to see a healer, maybe she got on better with that cunt Aurelia than-

Yarra began to try and tell her something, but fought to convey her message through the haze of delirium she seemed to be experiencing. That wouldn’t do. Absinth hummed as she awaited a bit more coherence, but perhaps she needed more time, more recuperation with a side of warmth. That she could provide, though she briefly wondered if this was too stark a contrast to their usual intense cavorts. "Rest now..." She purred, her tone coaxing, tongue swiping out to clean away some of Yarra’s lifeblood from the side of her face. "I will be here when you wake, ready to listen to whatever you need to tell me." Absinth assured her, her mind lingering on the specific mention of telling her something.

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Absinth is angry, Yarra can see it, but her lover tries to temper that anger in favour of soothing Yarra’s aches. her touch is like a balm, her kiss relaxing the knotted tension in Yarra’s frame. Yarra’s eyes flutter shut against the world, letting Absi monopolise her every sense, to roll over like a wave. with the two of them pressed together like this, it’d be so easy to just release this tendril of wakefulness, let it slide away and fall back into oblivion. she’s quickly losing the battle with her own consciousness.  Absi’s features swirl at the forefront of her vision, blacks and whites and brilliant green eyes at its centre. Yarra grapples to sink her claws within that fur, to pull the fae impossibly closer and bury her nose in her scruff. inhale her scent like it might soothe the pain pulsing through her in tremulous ripples. she wants to tell her now. needs to. it’s dancing across her tongue, teetering on the precipice in maddening circles. Yarra’s eyes slam shut as a headache bursts at her temples, biting down on her bottom lip so hard blood fills her mouth. she won’t cry out, won’t give voice to that pain. she’s not so far gone that she can’t still restrain herself. her eyes peel back open, every blink slow and heavy, and through the blur of pain Absi’s face warps further, twists into strange shapes. Yarra frowns, shaking herself to clear her mind, but the longer she looks at Absinth the more she changes. a second face wobbles in her peripheral, white and red-eyed, and, as Yarra sways between separate planes of consciousness, the faces overlap. red settles over green. black peaks through a maelstrom of white. something is rising within her mind, lifting higher and higher, buoying above this red cloud of pain – “your father,” Yarra whispers, voice cracking in the middle. “he was…here.” the words sap away the last of her strength, and sleep rushes in to claim her on swift black wings. "Speech"

Absinth's heart skipped a beat as Yarrabelle's whispered words pierced through the fog of exhaustion and pain. “My father…?” She breathed out, her eyes frozen on the figure of her magenta lover. The revelation sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins, banishing all traces of Absinth’s usual fiery nature in a single, short admission. She struggled to process the implications of Yarra's words, her mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. Her father. Setekh. He was here? He had done this to her? Memories flooded her mind, her body stiff and her blood running cold. She felt cold. Her mind echoed Yarra’s words until she finally comprehended their meaning fully.  

It was as if his voice was there, whispering his sickly sweet words into her ears now, laughing, promising her things that both repulsed her and frightened her. She had never gotten away.

And then.

A surge of anger rose within her, ravening and unrelenting. How dare he. How dare he come now, and harm someone Absinth cared for? What if he was watching now? What if he had been watching this whole time? Letting her have her false sense of security, her little life, all the while it was nothing but a game. Absinth's gaze hardened, her jaw set so tightly clenched that her teeth might’ve broken if she hadn't spoken again. "Rest now, Yarrabelle. I’ll be here when you wake." Gently, Absinth brushed her nose over Yarra's cheek, her touch tender yet filled with barely contained rage. But when Yarrabelle finally succumbed to the sleep that took her so swiftly, Absinth’s eyes squeezed shut. Her lips curled upwards as her jaws splayed in a silent scream to the heavens.

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