it's too simple to surrender

@Sylvie
Hoarding.

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Something rumbled in the pit of Amaranth's stomach, twisting her guts in an uncomfortable grimace. Anxious paws scurried through endless piles of trinkets in her den, the soft light of midday eking in through the crevices and creating a haphazard spotlight on the golden wraith.

With careful fervor, she filtered through the organized pile of chaos; skulls to the left, rocks and feathers to the right, and miscellaneous items falling somewhere in the center. She needed to find something. Something perfect and symbolic for the marriage that was just on the horizon. Of course, it wasn't for her ... no, it couldn't be. It was for Valeska. Valeska was the one who loved a big party and a big show. Valeska was the one who was a consistently adept planner while Amaranth lazed about in the aftermath of confetti and leftovers.

But now Amaranth felt inspired to participate.

She wanted to find something. She just didn't know what.

But she knew someone who would.

"Syliveeeee," she called and crooned, suddenly lifting her head from the pile and peering toward the den entrance. Yes. Who better to help her find a gift for Valeska than the child that not-so-secretly hated Amaranth's soon-to-be wife.

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Ugh.

Sylvie frowned, hopping down from her practice-perch like a sulking child. She had spent most of the day attempting Krakarak's flying drills, finding herself improving marginally faster than her initial embarrassing attempts, and had just completed a particularly successful long-distance flight across the lake when she heard Mama's silken call winding its way out from the dens.

With a dramatic sigh, she flapped hard and took to the air once more, landing in a flurry of feathers at the cave's mouth.

“Yes, Mama?” she called, trying (and failing) to mask the frustration in her tone. Amaranth had been allowing her a great deal more independence these days, which was great for Sylvie but also meant now she was being summoned with intent - and intent meant work. She hated work.

She had no idea what work was, but she already knew she didn't like it.

Taking in the disarray before her, trinkets and skeletons and oddities scattered to every corner of the den, she glanced back up at Amaranth with a look of confusion. “Are you wooking for something?”

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Sylvie appeared in a cacophony of feathers, so delicate and ethereal in her mannerisms. So graceful, even as she practically spat the words — "Yes, Mama?" — into the fine, dusty sand that now littered the den from Amaranth's rummaging and mess. The golden woman grinned, a soft tenderness touching her heart as she beheld her child as her lips and face melted into that natural coddle.

"My darling, my Sylvie," she cooed, emulating mother-bird as she moved toward the fledgling with a softness that did not quite disguise her intent. 

Sylvie was distressed about even the idea of small amounts of work ... and work Amaranth would give. “Are you wooking for something?”  There was hesitation there. And Amaranth waited a moment, knowing her daughter would detest this but ... when was it that Amaranth ever asked for, well, anything really.

"I need your help, your keen eyes ... your wit and your creativity," she began, honestly not in search of flattery but because she truly believed these things of Sylvie. "I'm looking for a ... very special gift." Her voice hesitated for a moment, golden brows raising as she peered at Sylvie through the dusty air. "For Valeska," she qualified with a quick flick of her tongue.

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The sound of Valeska's name from Mama's lips alone made her want to barf, but she restrained herself after hearing about what had happened at the lake. Yes, she had learned of their little intimate moment shared - from that wretched 'High Priestess' insulting Mama's breath to the same fiend spewing her guts up as further insult nearly drove the little bird to homicide, but unfortunately, her mother would never have it.

Instead, she frowned a little deeper, and set her beak in a firm line.

“If I gotta,” she replied petulantly, glaring down at the dusty earth and kicking a small unidentifiable piece of junk with her talons. Hmph.

“You could give her a wock.”

She paused, a devilish smile creeping up her face.

“I've seen some weally nice wocks close by.”

They weren't. Ugly, grey, egg-shaped craggy little things, but Sylvie knew if she said something was beautiful, Mama couldn't contradict her. She was her child. Her only child.

She hopped out toward the entrance, glancing back over her feathered shoulder to see if Amaranth would follow.

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Sylvie's ill-intention was often always lost on Amaranth, for Sylvie was perpetually perfect and brilliant and could certainly never be capable of harboring such ill-intention. Especially against Valeska. Why would her perfect child ever wish to destroy the only eternal bond of spiritual love that Amaranth had ever felt in her entire life? Certainly, that would be ludicrous.

“You could give her a wock.”

A what. A rock?
 Golden ears perked. Amaranth was listening.

“I've seen some weally nice wocks close by.”

A slow wave of her tail indicated her interest as the woman stood up to stretch her aching back. She'd have to come back to this pile when she had more energy to re-organize everything back into the properly assorted 'doom piles' that they belonged in. It was indeed, a difficult endeavor ... to have as many trinkets as she did and to keep them so perfectly, pristinely organized. What a chore. Especially now, with a wedding to think about and ... and ... children on the way.

But for now, adventure awaited.

Long stilts took her toward the entrance of the den, head tilted as she appraised Sylvie. "Well, I am happy to see what you have in mind."

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Stifling a fiendish giggle, Sylvie took to the air in a few ungraceful, heaving flaps (takeoff was still a point of improvement) and led her mother away from the dens, taking her toward the eastern side of their territory that faced the Plains. She had spotted the little rocky outcrop in one of her training sessions and had made a mental note to stay away from it - lest she crash and hurt herself, naturally - but for this occasion, it was perfect. She couldn't just pick out any of the pebbles by the lakeside; they had to possess some false meaning behind them, they had to seem purposeful.

She cackled inwardly, feeling pride at her own devious plan to disappoint Valeska. Sylvie could already see the look on her face as Amaranth reverently presented her with one of those stupid rocks, thinking it some great gift hand-chosen by the doting feathered child she held so dearly to her heart, but the Priestess would know.

It took some time, owing to the size of their claim, but they eventually passed by the lake entirely and stood at the edge of Fate's Respite in front of a shabby little collection of small boulders and scattered pebbles.

“See, Mama?” she said with feigned pride, puffing out her chest. “Vaweska will think they are so pwetty!”

The hell she would.

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Amaranth followed, smiling fondly as the young raven took from the ground to the sky with relative ease (she knew how difficult it had been for the child to learn without a proper avian parent). Her ever-growing dark frame glowed against the afternoon sun, shining purple iridescent and casting an ominously large shadow against the ground as a few gentle flaps took the odd duo toward the edge of the territory.

Amaranth kept pace easily, her stilt-like appendages adept at working in this sort of terrain.

The moments of silence that encapsulated them were welcomed. There was nothing, for a few brief moments, but the sound of the breeze ... flapping wings ... and the empty buzz of Amaranth's mind.

Amaranth, perhaps, hadn't realized how stressed she'd been.

And as they neared the boundaries of the territory, Sylvie began to circle ... that ominous raven tactic that they wrote about in poems. That small body plummeted toward the earth, landing near a collection of relatively average-looking pebbles and rough-looking stones. Amaranth neared eagerly, sniffing at the air as Sylvie puffed herself up, rather proud of her deception discovery. “Vaweska will think they are so pwetty!” Indeed.

Amaranth began to shift through the stones, soft velvet nose nudging through and around the delicate pile of sub-par-looking rocks. She trusted that there was something here — something. And then, yes, she spotted it. It looked like a rock from the very surface of the moon itself! Cratered, uneven, and ultimately very unarguably ugly on the outside. Amaranth's eyes glittered as her gentle fangs lifted the moon-rock from the crater. Body pulled backward a few paces before leaving the precious thing on the ground before her; burning eyes turned eagerly toward Sylvie.

"We have to break it in half, don't you think?" she warbled cryptically, knowing that there was no other stone like this. That they would need to share it. Two parts to a whole. Wasn't that what marriage was?

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It was hideous.

Amaranth, in her infinite wisdom and purity, somehow managed to select the most pathetic-looking item in the whole assortment, the quiet click and shift sound of the stone making contact with her fangs breaking the tremulous silence between them. Sylvie all but vibrated with malicious glee, elated that her plan had worked - Valeska would never agree to a wedding with such an ugly gift! No doubt she would abandon Mama at the alter entirely, leaving her and her true soul's adoration (see: Sylvie) to seek solace in each other at the bitter end.

Yes.

It was perfect.

"We have to break it in half, don't you think?"

Music to her ears.

Sylvie couldn't resist an excited caw, all-too-eagerly snatching the stone from her mother's gently parted jaws. If ever there was a task she was made for, it was smashing things - precious things - things that would take Mama away from her. She flew up, up; higher than she had ever gone before, in fact, and wobbled a little at the peak of her ascent, but then remembered for what glorious purpose she had made the climb, angled back, and released.

The rock flew with surprising force and split cleanly in half against one of the larger boulders, and Sylvie shivered with joy.

She glided down to inspect her handiwork.

“Aw, what the FU-” Sylvie began, then stopped herself.

Inside of the broken stone lay a tiny, shimmering galaxy of sparkling indigo and iridescent crystals, and she knew herself to be a god-damned fool.

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Sylvie agreed, obeying Amaranth's thought instantly as those delicate and precise talons took the stone back toward the moon from whence it had come. And the small raven child would drop the rock from the very peak of the heavens, sending the small thing pummeling toward earth like some ill-conceived meteor. Amaranth back-pedaled as the small stone hit the larger spires of rock with gravitational force, stone-on-stone piercing the silence with a gratifying slap.

And the geode shattered into two perfect halves.



Amaranth moved forward, her amethyst eyes glittering in tune with the shimmering crystal that had been revealed.

"Sylvie," she breathed, hot breath escaping her like the flame and smoke of a dragon who'd just found prey. "It's ... they're perfect." Amaranth turned toward the star-struck bird with glee, not processing that Sylvie's emotions were that of abhorrent shock. Amaranth used a gentle paw to scoop the stones toward her, drawing each half near to her ... unwilling to lose them now that they'd been found. They would make a perfect addition to her collection — a perfect prize to offer to her perfect Valeska.

Amaranth moved toward Sylvie to rest her nose gently in the fledgling's feathers with a soft exhale of relief.

A thank you to her child. Whether that child liked it or not.

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Sylvie, in a fit of something that would probably be mistaken for unbridled joy by her doting mother, landed with a thud and took a harder look at the split stone. Some greedy, selfish center of her soul flared at the visual of its glittering core, her eyes hungry with a fire that almost rivaled Amaranth's - they were two of the same breed, though one was a little bit shittier in execution. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it.

And held it.

"Окън ягсш угьш шге ГЕВВ нсха до фкввягсш ся шгсяр окънсхж идън уья якзздяеа шд фе-" — Fuck shit what the HELL kind of bullshit is this, fucking rock was supposed to be- Her series of curses, naturally in raven-tongue, were entirely lost on Amaranth as the golden woman bent down to give her a loving nuzzle of appreciation, only further inciting Sylvie's ire. How-! How could this happen?! They were just a bunch of dumb rocks! She didn't even know rocks could DO that!

She refrained from any further outbursts with an expression so dour one could imagine steam coming out of her head.

It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

Work sucked, this was proof, and she'd never do it EVER again.

“I am so... happy... I could find you a pwesent for Vaweska,” she forced out carefully, eyeing the rock as if it had insulted her.

She defaulted to the only comfort she knew.

“M'hungwy.” Sylvie was defeated. “Wanna go back.”

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Sylvie's rage was lost on the woman, amethyst eyes practically sparkling as brightly as the sun-littered edges of the geode. Her eyes and the geode shone in tandum. And her gentle, absent smile shifted between the stone and her feathered child that was practically overflowing with emotion.

Amaranth closed in on the gem, picking up the pieces with tender gentility in her jaws before turning her gaze once more toward Sylvie. There was a silent proposition there, a mischievous glitter behind the edges of her dancing eyes. Yes. These were rings — wedding rings. That was proper, wasn't it? It wouldn't just be a gift, then ... it would be a symbol.

For certainly it was foretold. Somewhere. Somehow.

Sylvie exhaled harshly, seeming exhausted after expending the effort. Amaranth nodded, lowering her head and offering the child a bridge to her back. And as Sylvie mounted her back, Amaranth would carry both her child and the two pieces of gemstone that they'd found back toward the dens.

Amaranth and Sylvie had some preparing to do.

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Amaranth Exits

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