[ P ] Move Mountains

Don't Believe Everything You See Ears would twitch ever so slightly at the mention of the other’s coven having long since been prosecuted and it seemed that was one thing they had in common. That hellfire had vanished only a little in her eyes at this, the smile slightly waning as her gaze raised to hers unwavering. “Unless you are of the Blackwoods, we are not of the exact same ink,” she breathed, claiming herself a rightful member of that ancient family of witches. There was some hope that maybe this woman was a long lost Blackwoods, a lost sister or cousin Elwynn didn’t know survived. “My coven of old too has been desecrated, hunted to extinction, unable to hide away. The last sister’s body I found upon my return. Her devotion was subpar and the fae were unhappy. Rightly so. Twisting words for her own means, Belladonna rests now upon the willow and oaks with my ritual only recently done,” even in death, Wisteria would not disclose Elwynn’s real name out of habit or perhaps out of respect. The witch hunters had been ruthless in destroying the Blackwoods, destroying the family she joined and had planned to keep. Zoltan, as well, he seemed blessed and loyal yet it was his maw that had been coated in blood. She could only speculate what occurs between them, all she knew is that no other souls had touched their forms till she. If the fae did not smite them themselves, they ate each other alive. Mother and Son, bound in death and she made sure to keep them that way, tucked away in the Fae Forest where she first met the witch so long ago as nothing more than children. So curious, at times, also so misguided by the woman of blood and destruction. She was certain mother Morgana would be disappointed in this outcome just as she. “There wouldn’t be much worth in culling the princess,” she stated, the value in the girl's death having long since expired the moment her first season was over. She was too old now, nothing the fae would find pleasure in receiving as a gift. No, no. As much as she desired everyone under the crown to perish, she saw little use in sending that girl into the arms of the goddess, not in that way. “She would be made better use if she came to us, accepted our ways as her own,” she’d finish her answer and in an equal way define who she wanted dead by not saying it at all: the little nephew. She had no plans to allow this world to become ruled by men the moment it was freed from it, no matter his values or beliefs. Though in the end, she didn’t wish for the crown to be claimed ever again no matter the gender or creed. A shiver would trail along her body as she felt the banduri slip closer, not drawing away in the slightest as she took in her words, each little delicious morsel. Yvaine. It fit her. Her muzzle gently grazed the other in turn, vaguely surprised by the kiss that would be planted on her. This wasn’t goodbye, it was only the beginning, she smirked as she skated ahead of the other woman to cut her off and draw her close. "Tha an oidhche fhathast òg. Tha pàirt den deas-ghnàth a chaill thu fhathast, banduri. Chan urrainn dhuinn a briseadh-dùil, a-nis an urrainn dhuinn, a ghràidh?" she breathed in her scent, finding the kiss not enough to infect her and truly prove anything. -fade out?-

art ☓ table ▸ bunny

[Mature]

Converting the princess…now that was an idea that stoked flames. A glimmer ran across Yvaine’s moonbright eyes, and the brilliance of such a thought slowed her exit. But she was still prepared to leave with a kiss, to abscond into the sweet embrace of the mountain mist. It was the sensual voice of the fox, weaving a tapestry of passion with the thread of every husky note, that truly stopped Yvaine in her tracks. She paused, glancing over her shoulder with a genuine mote of surprise…before the grin returned to light her lovely face like the fires of Hell itself. The banduri witch did not normally sleep with females—Rhiannon, Queen of the Night, was her first, and would therefore carved a special place in the witch’s blackened soul. As much as she detested men, pitiful and blunt and witless as they were, the banduri ritualistically bred with them for pleasure. However, she was not opposed to sleeping with another woman… Letting her eyes slither up and down the petite frame, Yvaine had a feeling madadh-ruadh was lively. This would be a ritual of its own, one that would cement their common goals. Yvaine’s tail curved seductively as she murmured in consent:


“Ghluaisinn beanntan dhi.”*


Fade and exit.

manip + code: clae
*”I would move mountains for her.”
@Wisteria