A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

It hurt, each and every tug and pull against the skin, no matter the gentleness of the touch brought a searing anguish to the hole within her chest. She would bite her tongue against it, though atimes quiet groans were able to slip by her defenses. She was no stranger to injuries. They had once been common to her, and while she didn't recall how she had gotten most of them, the scars that marked her skin - now wholly visible in their numerouss diversity without the veil of stuffy clothing - only provided that evidence she needed. She was not weak, she was no prim noble. No, once upon a time she had been a proud warrior of her people. She would not fall here. Not after everything she had already endured up to this point. This would not be the thing to break her.

“A silver bullet,” the maiden would remark, and Dae would nod, expecting no less. The rest of her injuries would heal well enough on their own, cuts and gashes of various depth and length to tatter her skin from the shattering of the window. Quips and tears from briars and dense underbrush she had barreled through in heer escape from the city. She was grateful that the wild fervor of her canine coat had saved her skin from the majority of them. Ifnot for being hit by the sterling slug, she wondered how far she would have run before the wildness was wrung from heer veins? How far her legs could have carried her befor they had collapsed in a shuddering heap? How far from Odersten and the Beleverons could she have gotten? “From what I have gathered, from what you have told me to what I am seeing now, they possessed an intention to discard of you and the Beleveron’s should be held accountable for these actions. Humans can be just as cruel if not worse than the beasts they fear.”

Her eyes darkened, her expression souring, her smile fading yet it did not transform to a frown. Instead, her features were stoically empty as she considered the words. As she tiptoed around the question of what to do next. She could not simply walk back into the city in the morning. Or even in the evening hours or in darkness. She could not easily pass a paper message to anyone within those harrowing gates. She wanted to know what had happened to Sari, why she was missing, as a cold pit within her stomach had formed in consideration of the loyalty her lady in waaiting had exhibited. She would not easily find forgiveness for herself if the woman had fallen to harm. She had often remarked that since her purchase at market, Dae had been the only being to show her kindness, a freedom promised to the woman, along with currency to start her own life once she was wed and no longer beneath the yolk of her purchasers. One that had unintentionally become a lie. Her fingers tightened about the lip of the tub, "He left me alive. I will have my vengence." Her voice was low, a promised vendetta. She had tasted his blood, and as he had remarked several times in regards to the wild beasts, once they had a taste for flesh, they would not stop.

She would show him just how right he truly was.

“You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need, Dae.” She would exud a hisssing breath from between clenched teeth as the sutures tightened the angry crimson of her irritated skin. Though she would once again allow a simper to touch her lips in thanks for the invitation. "Thank you, Avvie. Though I won't o-over stay my welcome. I wouldn't want to chance them finding me here." For she would not give the snakes an opportunity to infiltrate her home and make it another den of misery. Nor would she risk contaminating the lady's good and kind name with the risk of violence and repercussion she may face in the future. 

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

“Such metal is not allowed here,”  Daesn'yri would once again barely glimpse her words, the observations made as she freed the last scraping bits of the metal from her sobbing flesh. Azure gaze remaining dark, and while she would like to claim it was all from the edge of anger that roiled within her like a boiling sea, it was not. Exhaustion was quickly moving over her, especially with the relaxation and comfort the bath brought. The wrongness that had once cloyed at her skin was growing faint, the sterling extracted and displayed along with remnants of ichor drew her stare to them. Lashes met, lingering together for a moment before she would finally lift her lids once again, her whirling head leaning back against the edge to anchor herself with the steady visage of the ceiling above her head. A tentative, deep breath pulled into her lungs, her chest yielding a harsh burn, but it was becoming more of a dull ache. Just like the other transgressions against her frame, it would now begin to heal - slower due to its affliction, but it would finally stop its incessant red tears. “My mother is a werewolf also,” she informed. "A healer and a lycan," she would idly muse, mulling over the information. "It explains all the plants. I liked what I saw of the garden." She swallowed hard, allowing her gaze to close as her friend patched the wound.

There was a part of her that wished to grieve the loss of another home. Of another life. Though the act itself would perhaps be done in privacy at a later time. Maybe she would run from it just as much as she did the last, avoiding grief instead of greeting and speaking with her. She could already feel the sear of her heels to flee, to already begin the distraction of her thoughts. She had never thought that that abyss would catch her, and it would forever remain lurking in the shadow of her happy front. However it was a sunny day, a breathless summer afternoon. Even now the beams of light flickered through the curtains of the window to dapple and reflect off of the bath and gently caress the coldness the threatened her heavy limbs. It was accompanied by the familiarity of tears that pricked hotly at her eyes, that shivered her lip until she would again shove it away with a heavy exhale. “Might I assist you in some way?” She would admit that the askance surprised her faintly. While Avarice didn't seem to be one to show much in the way of emotion, she likewise didn't seem one attuned for violence. "Perhaps," she said, and unlike an easy dismissal meant to save the feelings of another, it was filled with genuine possibility. “It has been rather boring here lately without Ira-Gula, and Osmanthus hasn’t visited me in some time.” She would turn, the motion slow as she nearly settled onto her side within the pinkening waters. "I was forced to abandon my dear companions when I fled, I cannot go back right away for them.... But I fear for their safety in my absence."  She knew not how best to go about reaching them, but perchance Avvie would.

“You’re one if not the only other friend aside from another I have,” her lips would uplift as she watched the maiden's fingers work through the mussed tendrils of her hair, cleansing them of debris and dirt. Working free the clumps of moss that had become entangled from the rough bark and earth she had collapsed upon. "I can say the same for you. Full glad am I that I happened to near your home after all." Now that she considered it, it was indeed a good stroke of fortune, and that ill befit the evening and night that she had endured, but one she was immensely grateful for. “Though I will admit my weaknesses humbly, for I cannot wield a sword or bow, but I do believe from the books I’ve read, friends are meant to be there for one another even in the most trying of times.” If she had learned anything from these folk, it was that experience with a material weapon meant little. They used their words, their wealth, and their status as well as any blade she had ever seen or fought against, and in this foreign society, such means of harm seemed to cut deeper than steel as well. "Thank you, Avvie, truly I.... I don't know what I'd do if not for you."

The words left her, and if she had color to her skin, it would have flushed to her features, but in this state, the furious rise of carmine was absent to her countenance. “Is there anyone I can write to for you, someone trustworthy? While being discreet and vague of course. I’ve been told I’m rather clever at that.” She considered the words, the offer. Her inclinations drifted to at least three names. Sonata had proven herself to be a good friend, though the teacher had written in recent days that she had her own troubles, and Dae didn't want to add further to that list. The second only barely reached the point of musing. He'd left her, after all, to their mercy. To the wagging of tongues, to wave a banner that didn't care about its people. Nothing here made sense to her in comparison to her home. She would have never allowed her people to starve. Not while she drew breath. That same softness making her easy to betray. Time and time again.

One day, she would kill the lamb within her.
Even if she had to claw it out of herself to do so.

"I had a close maid to me. Her name is Sari, though I don't know if she can read or write." And given her absence, if she was even alive, though she would press such dark threads from the tangled loom of her thoughts. "She is red-skinned, and has short, straight black hair. She is shorter than I and... willowy. You may have seen her at the ball." She described the young woman, with the best of detail that she could.

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

She came from a place far from the lush greenery that surrounded this home. Even the interior witnessed the ply of plants hungrily consuming with what liberty they were allowed. The only time she had even felt the kiss of grass beneath her feet prior to coming here was during the yearly migration to the oasis hidden within the gilded dunes. The first time she was old enough to recall such a thing had left a deep impression within the well of her memories. Perhaps it was only such a wonderous thing because it was limited. When she had asked why, her eldest sister had merely told her that if they were to stay year long within that gentle paradise, the land would not be able to support them. That they would kill the life there. That their numbers which would surely grow in such a habitat would soon be enough to smother the fertile land that the god tree had granted them. That was why it was so important, so precious to them and to only be indulged in once in awhile. That they would also become too soft, too complacent to defend themselves. Was that what had happened? Had she lingered too long? Embraced the genial life that did not belong to her? Had she invited this disaster unto herself?

Had he also been complacent?
If they had threatened his sister, she was almost certain he would.

Was that why he had insisted on leaving? Was it that she had grown too malleable? He did not believe her capable in watching his back in the life they would apparently be forced to live should he have left with her as he had inquired of her? Or was that merely an excuse? Had he merely used her? A horrid thought that entangled her psyche like a web, injecting torrents of dark ink to poison her inclinations. She would have, more than anything, loved to have dismissed the notion with certainty. But she couldn't. He had already kept himself silent in their first meetings. Despite his cruelty, he had done nothing in the beginning to tell her that she was not truly Arabella. Eventually, yes, but it was a truth she had nearly unraveled for herself. He only offered confirmation. He had dismissed what she had once been, he hadn't recognized her. He had already removed her from his life once, what would it be to do so once more? She would painstakingly draw her knees up against her chest as Avarice continued to preen the mess from her long hair. On any other day, she would have found her lengthy locks braided, well tended by Sari. They would have been brushed out and braided, pinned so that the spun gold did not sweep the floor. But her well loved maid was not found at her side this day. “Fate and fortune works in their own wily ways I suppose.” Her vocals would bring her back to the present. Her head tilting to rest her cheek upon her legs to face the young woman as she gently washed her hair. "I think... I think I've made a mistake, Avvie."

The words would leave her quietly, little above a whisper. Who did she turn to for advice? Did she confess to her father's shadow that he was correct? Did she invoke the wisdom she was denied from her mother? Did she follow the ire that would surely flood forth like a river of pure wrath from her sisters? What did she do? “Pardon if I speak out of turn,” focus sharpened upon the cherry blossom maiden, “But if Lord Beleveron is a hunter, he may try to… clear his tracks away… so to speak.” Her jaw would tighten with the truth of her words. “I do not wish to think grimly for your companions, I am merely thinking realistically.” "You are right, of course...." she murmured, a faint hint of bitterness dressing her tongue. She knew not the lengths that the horrid Beleverons would go to to conceal the truth of what sins they had committed. Her heart suddenly felt as if it beat right behind her teeth, frantic with the terror of what may befall those left behind. She had to get them. She had to find and rescue them from whatever end waited for them. “May I add flowers to your hair, Dae? Brunch should be ready soon – you should have at least something light on your stomach.”

Surprise colored her attention, and her eyes would fall upon the cleansed strands. She had indeed become quite smitten with the blooms that made the garden home. Just as she had been distracted and enthralled by the craft of Avarice's mother surrounding their home. "Do what you like with it." She permissed with a soft simper. It reminded her vaguely of spending time with her siblings. When the third eldest would chastise her for not taking better care of the strands if she was going to keep it so long. It was often she that untangled the mess, though her fingers were much rougher than those of her dear comrade. She would drag the sweat, dirt and blood from the pale gold strands much like Avvie was doing now. "I would love to see what you do with it." She hummed lowly, though she didn't quite entertain the thought of eating just yet. Though perhaps it would help to soothe her nerves. To settle at least some of her aches as she reminded herself she had missed most of her meals the day prior. She would need it. She would need the energy if she was to continue on. If she was to finish what she started.

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

Time had left none untouched. She would have waited at the side of the pier waiting for naught but a ghost in the end of all things. She would have withered away to nothing, and for all consideration, wouldn't that have been a kinder fate? The bitter, empty echo of a smile slipped upon her lips like the fragile chemise of a nightgown. Just as intimately so as well, shared only with herself as her friend busied herself with her lengthy locks. She supposed her father would have claimed this as a victory, though she doubted he would ever utter the phrases claiming so. He had no need for them, it was indisputable fact. He had warned her and she had disregarded his wisdom. It was rare that she had pushed aside his advice and counsel, but this was something she had vehemently rejected. Oh how she had venomously told him he was wrong, that Aethelos was not like the others he had encountered. That he was different.  Maybe on the opposite end of the clock's long hand he had been, and on the elegant facet of the clock she had been correct. She obviously had changed as well, also permeated by the filth and mire that had passed. Marred by the hardships, sullied by grief. That was why he hadn't recognized her right away.

Or perhaps she truly was just that forgettable to him.

“Mistakes are just lessons learned by our actions. They happen even if we do not intend for them to be.” The ripple of the water was audible as she canted her crown to peer at the young femme. There was a part of her that reminded her of her older sister. She was unsure if it was her calm demeanor - though Rosay'n was far more tumultuous than the placid sea that Avvie oft depicted. She was always ready with sound opinion, and she spoke the truth bluntly - though not with bitter chill. "I'll just have to consider my lesson learned." She hummed softly upon the tops of his crossed arms.

It was... painful. To think of the degree the Beleveron's had gone to, the depravity that accompanied their insurmountable greed. In the time in which she had known them, she'd thought of them as friend and ally. She'd only had well wishes for them upon their departure. Thus was a savage's understanding of the world though, she assumed. Even hearing from Aeth himself that his father had considered them all as such. Their lives meant nothing to him after all and she held no doubts that had he the opportunity, he'd have been dealing with their enemy as well. Perhaps he had been. She could only hope that Sari had managed to escape somehow, as well as the baby hydra and Vutris. She couldn't leave them. She wouldn't abandon them. Not like this. She held no doubt that her handmaid had indeed met with some manner of misfortune by her absolute silence and absence, but she could hold out the tentative hope that she had merely been captured and remained well otherwise. A desperately silent plea that accompanied the soft squeeze she offered Avvie's soft, comforting hand.

She would rise to take the gathered robe, finding at least some of her strength having returned after the soak and treatment of her injury. Gripping the sides of the porcelain, she would push herself into a stand, carefully departing from the cooling waters. At least she felt more refreshed now, clean of the sweat and gore that had previously stained her skin and hair. And such distraction would claim her as the sudden bloom of flowers were given birth within her locks. The colors were soft, pleasant, and unique in the buds she had witnessed in the gardens. They were their own patterns, carefully crafted and she would only smile at them as her thumb would tentatively trace over the curve of one of the blossoms. “The color suites you, I think.” She murmured, holding aloft a mirror and Dae would give a light spin to view the entirety of the maiden's art. "Oh, Avvie! It's beautiful!" She would compliment airily. “Is it to your liking? I braid Envy’s mane all the time.” She would nod, donning the offered article of clothing, relinquishing a low sigh as she inhaled slowly from the sweet, soft fabric. Her eyes would drift away, to the floor at her feet before she would sheepishly face her host and friend once more, her cheeks reddened faintly. "Speaking on Envy, I suppose I owe your stable hand an apology."

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

Avarice was quiet, seemingly content merely giving Dae the time and privacy to wrap the robe around herself. Her hand would only briefly rest upon the injury housing itself within her chest. With luck, nothing was beyond repair and if she took care of herself, the blight would heal quickly upon its own accord with the silver fragments cleansed from her flesh. While such a thing felt so blatantly simple, there were demons within herself that whispered for action, for impatience. She could scarcely hold herself back even now from sneaking back to the manor, from trying to spy what it was that befell those she had been close to. To freeing those hapless without her. To be caught... Oh to be caught, however, would allow them no favors.

What was she to do? While Avarice had offered her assistance, there was a hard drawn line that Daesn'yri would not allow her to cross. While there was trust there, she couldn't rightfully ask anything of her to place her in harm's way. No, in truth, there was a guilt that festered to inquire her to do anything at all. She had already done more than her fair share, taking her in and tending to her. Offering her this warmth that she had selfishly indulged in. Truthfully, she had no idea how to even begin to pay the young maiden back.

“Oh, do not trouble yourself.” She would assure, and attentive sapphires would travel to Avvie's face, slightly flushed, though her expression had returned to its otherwise blank canvas. She would dismiss the notion with a blithe wave, “I will see to his wellbeing myself.” A slight laugh left her, mirthful as she easily accepted the delicate touch of the young femme. "J-just make sure he knows I meant no ill will?" She would sheepishly murmur, knowing that if nothing else, she had snarled at the curious soul, though she was quite sure that she hadn't truly aimed to bite him otherwise.

“Come, once you are dressed and we have had brunch I can tour the estate for you if you’d like.” She would nod, the idea of clothes coming to her attention for the first time. Hers had indeed been destroyed in her transformation, and whatever tattered remains had clung to her certainly had no place in any wardrobe. She would exude a low, soft sigh. While she still had reservations about food, she would forcibly remind herself that the quicker she recovered the better. She would be of no use to Sari in her current condition. She needed the energy. She needed to be better in order to help her. Her present state was not of viable use. "A tour would be nice. U-um... Are there extra clothes?" She would inquire the last bit with reddening cheeks. "I-I'm not picky. I don't need dresses." She would also add lastly.

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE