• Memory • Endlessly (Plague)

[Maeve]

Ashan 24, 691

She stood on the precipice, looking down into the misty abyss of the meager treetops that dotted the ground below. The cliff wasn't too high up, but it was high enough for the rays of the sun to fall upon the wooden grave she'd built on its edge. The wind whistled through the air, tossing her hair where she stood, but the Naerikk made no move to tame her wild mane.

Maeve knelt at the foot of the grave. The wood marking her father's things had long since eroded by the weather, but in her mind, that gave it character. Weather worn, rough around the edges, but meaningful. That in itself was the epitome of her father. And yet, where the notion of rest and remembrance brought a sense of serenity to others, it only worsened her pain and the seed of bitterness that had grown as a result of her own mother's betrayal.

You deserved better.

Maeve's hands tightened into fists. Still, it burned; to lose the only thing that had softened the curse of her existence. And in truth, she didn't know why. Why did her heart ache? Why did the memories that reminded her of Rayce bring not a warm peace, but a burning hatred? Why, after all these years, did the agony of losing her parents claw at her mind?

Maeve placed the wilting hyacinth atop the rock mound and stood. Kin-slayer. The word made her lip twitch as she stared into the misty miasma below. If she could turn back time, would she had done the same? That question always pressed into her thoughts, but the answer never came. It never does.

She took a step closer to the edge and a chip of rock tumbled below. She could hear it echo among the woods as it disappeared beneath the mist. One step more, and it was over. It was so easy. Yet her gut was telling her otherwise.

[Plague]

It was a gray day. Above Maeve the clouds embraced silently, so hard they shook themselves apart to try again. Again. Again. Up this high, the echo of the earth could reach her. In its ancient language it moaned, creaking cliffs and loose stones scuttling for purchase down below. A half step would do it

(Do it, Do it)
The sound of the capricious wind.

A half step to the fall.
(Fall, Fall, Fall)

Nothing more than simply collapsing forward would be the division between her life now and her end below. So as a dancer she balanced on the finest line any mortal dared tread. Perhaps she would have stayed like that, suspended as time passed beneath her. Clouds above and clouds below she was nowhere, really. Perhaps standing between two realities, one where she lived and the other...

It was the noise behind her that broke the spell, yanked her from the wind and sorrow to ground her on this cliff. She was whole, she was breathing, and that was a REALLY long way down. Somehow, a creature had made the slow and methodical trek up the slope. The sound she heard was the clatter of the makeshift cross she'd fashioned, clattering onto the stone.

The bear was immense, larger than nearly any she'd seen before. Its thick shoulders rippled with the motion of muscles beneath its shaggy coat and its massive head turned up to look at her slowly. Curious lines intersected around the bear's eyes, trailing down to its stomach in the almost comical suggestion of spectacles. The black around its eyes, framed by the shock of blonde fur was striking, but not more than its gaze. Something in those brown eyes caught the breath in her throat and stilled the flutter of her body.

Somehow the beast had come upon her without making a sound and now here it stood, over the small grave she had built and cornering her to a fatal drop. The daylight streaming through the clouds was enough to deny her access to her ability to meld with shadow...should the creature design her as food, she would have no way to resist.

But.

Snuffling, it dipped a shaggy maw and gently plucked the wilted hyacinth from the stones. Caught between its teeth, the flower seemed to explode into life, as vibrant as when she picked it. The bear did not growl nor roar, only turned slowly and began plodding down the mountain again. After only a few steps, it turned and looked over its shoulder, as if coaxing her to follow.

Around her the wind howled taunts she could no longer clearly hear. The clouds were still above and below her.

This was nowhere...and perhaps nowhere, wonders may happen.

[Maeve]

One more step.

Just one more step, and the hell that was her life would be over.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. That mesmerizing spell she'd slipped into had broken, and the drop that reached below her suddenly felt truly and utterly menacing. Maeve inhaled sharply as a gust of wind swept through her wild red mane, and she took a step back, clutching a hand to her chest.

The clatter of the cross forced her to turn around and face the intruder that had broken her solitary reprieve. But it wasn't so much an intruder, but a massive beast. Despite the size of the bear and the nature by which she knew those creatures could eventually become, fear was quelled by the sight of her fathers grave, so haphazardly demolished under the feet of the predator.

"What are you doing?" The Naer suddenly called, as though she'd assumed the bear could understand. "You're ruining it!" She took one step forward, her weapons held aloft, and paused. In the moment, the haze of anger and fear and despair was clouding her judgement, but she knew, deep down, that engaging such a beast was clearly suicide. And she knew, in that moment, she couldn't die. Not yet.

Maeve swallowed the hard lump in her throat and lowered her arms. "Go," she said. "Just go!" But the beast didn't move. Instead, it dipped it's shaggy head and lifted the wilted flower from the very stones she'd placed over her father's grave. The smuggler looked on, initially in utter confusion, then into a bewildered awe as the hyacinth that had once lain wilted sprung back to life, its petals a luscious shade of lavender.

"You.." She began, as though she were speaking to a person, rather than a bear. "You can't have..." But there was no answer, as the large bear turned and wandered back down mountain path she'd come from, and as it turned its head to look toward her, Maeve could not help but feel as though those eyes held a secret she had yet to discover.

Suddenly, she felt like she could move again, and the smuggler found herself following the creature down the rocky slope. "Wait," she called. "What are you?" A charmed creature? She wondered. A wizard? She'd heard of shapeshifting mages before, but never knew what signs to look for. But what could possibly have the power to bring a dead flower back to life? And if it worked on a flower... why not a human?