Witch Hazel for What Ails You

Blood spattered the snow, its crimson hue stark against the pale, white perfection. It arched in a wide circle around a single, lithe frame. Thick trees encircled the ring of blood, creating a clearing for the witch to perform her prayers. And the forest itself, mysterious and powerful, was bathed in a circular ray of moonlight from above. So the cycle continued, circles within circles, a never-ending chain of energy that spanned beyond the mortal plane, beyond the stars themselves. The banduri witch believed in this energy, in cycles, and so she knew the end of her suffering would come soon. She played her part, sending disease into her enemy’s camp, spreading Diptheria to the impertinent heathens who turned from the ancient gods’ ways. But if she wanted a cure for her aching throat, her weakness, the sores lurking beneath her once-silken, scarlet fur…she had but to ask.


The blood did not belong to the sick witch. It belonged to something, someone perhaps, whose liver rested on a pile of carefully selected, dried herbs. But a corpse was nowhere to be seen. The only other remnant of the sacrifice was the delicate smear of blood that ran from the banduri’s throat, down her supple chest, ending in a paw print just above her heart.


She was quite near the borders of the Fae Forest. Anyone could happen upon her. But the witch didn’t mind. In her hoarse, echoing voice, she chanted, “Tinneas, saor mi. Cailleach, thoir dhomh leigheas.”

__

Yvaine is infected, so coming in close contact puts other wolves at risk. You can optionally have your wolf infected by interacting with Yvaine and posting in the #outbreak channel on Discord!


@Lorelai

*"Fire, free me. Queen/Hag of Winter, give me a cure."

Lorelei Ambrosia

Winter had crept in; her hands, long before autumn's last breath was made, held firm the handle to the blade that would sever what little light and life was left in the season. Now, the bitter breath of winter was cast across the country. Those who hadnt prepared would surely perish, and those unfortunate enough to have stayed one step ahead of the brutality that came with the cold would live to suffer- atleast until Spring mustered the courage to suffocate the cold with her warming embrace. Lorelei, however, thrived in the bitterness that her soul clung to. There was a familiarity to it, perhaps deeply rooted in everything she'd suppressed so far. There was also a familiarity to the forest that she lurked about in during the winter months. This was no place to wander alone, to get lost in. Tales were simply tales when she was younger, but with age came reality. And as reality would have it, what was whispered about the Fae Forest was certainly no tale. She minded her distance and kept closer to the border of the forest. Here, she could see all and hear all, should anyone find themselves pulled in by the lulls in the voice of the sirens and serpents that lurked deeper in the forest.

Nothing came as a surprise as of late, but when the young woman happened across what at first seemed like a blood bath, she was almost shocked. Blood held a rather noticeable comparison to the glistening white that it lay across. It's pattern was done by no luck or fate, but rather another creature. Between trees the woman would slink and slither around as she watched for the creature responsible to present themselves. Before long, emerald hues stalked from the side of a tree, and radars swivled in the direction of which a voice would come from. This creature was covered in the same blood it would seem. And her voice left a chill to run down Lorelei's spine as she appeared to chant or call out. Surely the young woman's scent would over come the blood that was around the stranger. And while she was not hiding, she kept her distance as she watched and listened.

"speaking"

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As expected, the scent of another wolf eventually permeated the rich perfume of blood, organs and oils. It was a subtle scent—natural, youthful. And over the sound of her own chanting, the witch hadn’t heard the soft, nigh inaudible crunch of the glistening snow. But a mere flicker of her silver eyes revealed the culprit. It did not stop her. She continued to chant, her voice rising in pitch and intensity, like the cries of a lover building toward a crescendo. And then, the song to the goddesses suddenly stopped. Silence rang in the winter clearing. Slowly, the banduri stepped forward and knelt in front of the disembodied liver. As she did, she glanced at the intriguing stranger, a duality of black and white—an omen that could mean anything. The witch’s husky voice murmured, “An tusa mo chomharradh?”*


Without waiting, the witch parted her lovely maw. Moonbright eyes gleamed at the girl before her lips curled away from sharp, pearlescent fangs. And then she devoured the liver, blood dribbling down her chin, sinking deeper into the silk of her fur. The tender flesh gave way almost too easily to the she-wolf. She ate with purpose, savoring every bite, closing her eyes and letting the cold air caress her as she relished it all. It did not take as long as one might expect.


Afterward, the witch sat, lifting one delicate paw to her chin. She returned her curiosity to the girl, gazing at her over her shoulder. “Who are you, darling?” she asked simply. With swift but graceful motion, the banduri’s tongue raced along her fangs. Then she began to groom her forelimb as she waited for the stranger’s response.

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@Lorelei
*"Are you my sign?"

Lorelei Ambrosia

She was either a witness or a victim, having just devoured the sight before her; her meandering left her before either a blessing or a curse for her own soul to receive. She didn't make herself a serpent of the night, hiding and waiting to strike, so when silver eyes fell upon her own she revealed no signs of shock. Still, she remained where she was as witnessed the woman chanting. It wasn't until the woman fell to feast upon the bloodied organ at her feet that Lorelei would move not closer, but to a spot with a clearer line of sight. As she did so, she heard the stranger speak once again, a gaelic tongue that would make her own ears swivel atop a curious dome. She would not reply to the woman, not verbally. Only her face would fall upon hers with a glint of interest. If she spoke the native tongue so easily she could be a reliable acquaintance. But judging a character so quickly off the tongue of a stranger would be foolish. Once more she sat, still only close enough for their words to be heard clearly, leaving enough room to run should the opportunity be needed.

"Who are you, Darling?" And who was she-today-exactly? Yesterday, she was Carys, a fisherman's daughter from the boasts of aberdeen. Before that, Aisling, a barmaid that need not much of a background after that. Today, she was "Marsaili" she didn't skip a beat before asking the same. What do you go by, Coigreach àlainn?
"

speaking"

Coigreach àlainn; Beautiful Stranger

table by rae - image by ashon

Cure

You have found a cure event!


To participate in the outbreak, please post in the #outbreak channel

[This takes place recently in Yvaine's timeline! She won't realize right away that she's cured, but it'll settle in soon!]

The tang of blood still danced on her tongue, and Yvaine was already swimming in confidence. The herb-infused liver invigorated her beyond her expectations, so she didn’t bother to hide her smile as the woman replied in a native, Highlander accent. The witch’s eyes shimmered like cold, burning stars as she said, “Yvaine Lusk. But I like àlainn, too.”


The ache that persisted in her neck and limbs was slowly ebbing, and the she-wolf stood, her luxurious tail sweeping behind her. Without hesitation, the witch prowled closer, stepping outside the circle of crimson snow. It was time to carve a new circle. So she weaved through the trees, arching around the other woman as she drank in the striking pelt, the verdant eyes, the mysteriously subtle scents. There was no mistaking this creature for a fellow true-born, but Yvaine decided to play the game, anyway.


“Either you’re a daughter of Rionnach,” the banduri purred, “or you’re fae. So…” She chuckled. “What message do you bring from beyond the veil?”

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@Lorelei

Infection

You start feeling ill. Your throat is sore and it feels like there are lumps running along the sides of your neck. It is hard to stand and you keep shaking despite the raging fever that causes your forehead to burn.


To participate in the outbreak, please post in the #outbreak channel

Lorelei Ambrosia

Yvaine Lusk.. and the stranger would give away her identity without hesitation. As smoothly as she offered her name, she was up and had broken the circle she was just performing in. This time the woman was Circling Lorelei, observing. She made no movements but the slight twitches her ears would give as she listened for Yvaine's footfall and voice.

“Either you’re a daughter of Rionnach,or you’re fae. So…What message do you bring from beyond the veil?”

"We've both shared a presence under the light of the moon, in the Fae Forest. " she paused, ears twitching and shimmering emeralds now searched for Yvaine. "chan fhaigheadh ​​coigreach sam bith an cothrom" she would now connect her gaze with Yvaine's movements before speaking once more. "could it be, we've been woven a path through the twisted brush and bramble of these woods for a purpose? " she questioned the woman, keeping the topic away from Lorelei herself. Another highlander would usually be company favored above all else, but she was sure the ever looming threat of her father could run as deep as even the depths of the Fae Forest. With that, her slight paranoia was always bubbling just beneath her surface, ready to expose itself.


speaking"

"chan fhaigheadh ​​coigreach sam bith an cothrom": no outsider would get the chance

table by rae - image by ashon

A slow smile danced across the witch’s maw. The youth’s unlikely wisdom fascinated her, and she wondered immediately: Is the girl descended from one of the sisters? Did banduri blood run through this enigmatic creature’s veins? She yearned to know; rather, she wanted to make her hopes reality. She wanted to sink her fangs into the back of this black-and-white neck and let her venom permeate the girl’s every vessel. The idea of finding another sister to join her cause was so delicious, her tongue arched tantalizingly along her upper fangs.


“Everything has a purpose,” Yvaine agreed, her moonbright eyes glowing fiercely. She arched around to face her new counterpart once more. She left enough space to be respectful, but was close enough to show her earnest interest in the encounter. There was a strength in her stance that wasn’t there before. The tremors in her limbs were gone; the fur along her neck settled, silken tresses rustling softly in the winter evening. Even the witch’s aura spoke of something dark and powerful—something in the ritual of blood, in the herb-infused liver, in the encounter of two Highlanders in an ancient, secretive place.


Fate spun a new destiny into motion. And the banduri could feel it.


“Tell me, darling: who holds true power? What do you believe?”

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@Lorelei

Lorelei Ambrosia

The woman seemed to radiate, an aura that was dull and flickering was now vibrant and bold, yet darkness was the most powerful current flowing from the woman. Was it all a facade? A mirage of a woman that these woods wanted Lorelei to see? She caught herself, slipping too far into her thoughts here. There wasa still a stranger that soaked in the blood of something and was now here, close enough study an opponent, but far enough away to wait and see if Lorelei would pass any tests she may have.

"Everything has a purpose", emerald eyes sunk into the silver daggers of the woman before her as she spoke. “Tell me, darling: who holds true power? What do you believe?” She took no time to respond, if this woman before her was a highlander tried and true, she would have have two answers: the right one, and the wrong one.

Bidh filth crùn a 'cumail grèim teann timcheall an Fae," her words rolled off of her tongue smoothly, her grip on the encounter unfaultering. and it should be our responsibility to free her from their lethal grasp. " She surprised herself just so- was this not what she'd been raised to believe, to pursue? Her words were spoken with a passion that danced around her voice so elegantly and easy. And it would all come back full circle to this moment, her fate as she stood before Yvaine: live to see her beliefs through, or perish beneath the light of the moon in the forest of the Fae?


speaking"

"Bidh filth crùn a 'cumail grèim teann timcheall an Fae,": Crowned filth holds a tight grip around the Fae,

table by rae - image by ashon