[PRP] Knowing Your Place (Manyara & Medea)

[Sosiqui]

Manyara had never felt so off-balance in her entire life. Her world was meant to be simple: humans were for harvesting. She would bite them, and bring back the spoils of her hunts to the Lair. She moved in cooperation with Famine Clan, a single-minded hive. She had been content. She had known her place.

And now everything had changed, and she was well behind the times. She'd been playing while the world unraveled and put itself back together in an unfamiliar shape. She wasn't sure where she fit in, in this new order. Grief and frustration were raw in her heart, and she hid it all under the guise of fury. But there was one name... Medea. The leader.

One leader.

That was wrong, but Manyara had no choice in the matter. Thus, sullen and wounded, the Scavenger slunk her way to Medea's tent, seeking whatever guidance the Priestess had to offer. Before scraping at the door, however, she straightened up, drawing on her pride. She would not appear low and beaten. Not to her.

Rough-edged fingernails scraped down the tent flap, in lieu of a knock.  

[Zoobey]

The first thing that would assault Manyara's senses was a loud snap, the sharp warmth of the flames, a pyre, in the center of an open roof tent. The next was an almost blurry figure, the Head Priestess, nearly enveloped in the smoke from where she spun her life's work. The incense and flames themselves seemed to lower, shift to a more subdued stance as Medea turned her attention to the visitor.

"And so a lost spirit makes their way here," She smiled, gathering her robes around her, "Even those with clouded paths are always most welcome in this Sanctuary. Tell me all, child of the Four Clans, I want to hear with your own words your questions."

Sosiqui

 

[Sosiqui]

Manyara made a low growling sound in the back of her throat - not a threat, not really, but definitely not a pleased noise either. "Why only you? Why not the others?" she said, after a moment, standing up to her full five-foot height and folding her arms over her emaciated chest. "Where is the Queen?" Medea was not the Queen, and that sullen accusation emanated from every inch of the Scavenger's body.

Zoobey

 

[Zoobey]

In small, almost intangible increments, the smoke continued to curl around the tent, thicker and thicker until it visibly seemed to leave black vine-like branches around each corner. The facade of the tent itself began to unravel, the darker Halloween sky turning a deep blue as Medea spoke.

"I am only a messenger," She was harsh, reminding, "Do no forget why this happened, and how powerless we were to avoid the deceit and pure corruption of those humans, who dare to taint our lands, nearly break us, and take from us."

And then everything shifted, even as Medea kept on speaking. They were in the fertile lands of Conquest, and then the tall spires of Death. They were in thick forests of War and in the familiar sand alcoves of Famine. And how painfully familiar those of Famine looked, working away squirreled underground, how gut-wrenchingly tangible. Those very faces turned to Medea, to Manyara, nodding to them as if in recognition-

- Before a sweeping arc of white simply consumed them. They screamed, angry and confused and in pain, they cried until they could no more and there was nothing, not even dissipation itself. Where there had been desert sands, where there had been islands, there was just a simple crater. The events played now faster, but the loss pervaded. It would never go away.

"If this story had ended, you have been told nothing but a lie, perhaps to soothe your own distrust and agitation." And then from the pain, the grey remaining rose a shape, perhaps some mangled shape of a great bird that shrieked, festered into chaos and confusion, what should have been Fear welded together in some unearthly shape unable to go Home. Only as it flew close, too close, did it finally break apart, returning to faded images of what they once had been.

"I am here because I am a messenger and your guide. What path you seek is always your choice, but the consequences reflect us, our clans. Is it that easy to walk on the fallen of our Clan and refuse to simply take the mantle from where we fell? A great shadow still lies over us, blanketing and smothering our very will and who we are. And yet, will you still oppose the only ones who have the will to fight? Our legacy is on the verge of breaking, there is noone else left."

The Illusion dropped: they had returned back. Medea had not left where she stood though her entire attitude had shifted, revealing a bit more of her anger and pride.

Sosiqui

 

[Sosiqui]

Manyara sank back into a wary crouch as the tent shifted - oh, yes, she knew hallucinations and the Death Clan's art of Trance. They made her uncertain. She truly trusted only that which she could touch... but she herself had clawed at the slag that had once been their home. As the scene played on, she tensed all over, her nails scraping at the tent floor. The destruction had been evident from what had been left behind.

The strange, massive bird - that had not. As it appeared to swoop too close to her, she jumped back, curling her lips back to show her teeth at the apparition. Once again, bravado was a facade over deep uncertainty and even fear. "That," she hissed, once it had gone. "What is that. It is... terrible." She shifted in place. "It can't..." She struggled for words. "Can't... should kill it. Too terrible to be real."

Zoobey

 

[Zoobey]

Medea quieted, sensing the heavy doubt. She waited. And then, just very simply, asked a single question. "Would you like to go visit the islands then and see for yourself the truth?"

Sosiqui

 

[Sosiqui]

"Saw already. War Clan brought me back," Manyara grumbled, slipping back into her sullen demeanor again. Really, the Horseman who had found her screaming at the remains of their home could have been more dignified about it rather than just scooping her up and carrying her under one arm...

"That thing. That bird," she repeated, shifting once more. "No, not a bird. Felt wrong. What is it? Was it? Did you kill it?" She was almost pleading now. Whatever it had been, she felt innately that it very badly needed to be killed. Removed from this world, by whatever means possible.

Zoobey

 

[Zoobey]

There was an even louder pause still. They both knew the truth, even partial truth, to the question.

"They are what we once were." Medea's words were heavy, the true price of what happened, the destruction, and the result now weighing heavily. Survivor's guilt. "Those who were destroyed, they did no fully dissipate now did they return to Fear, no, they were unable to do either or. They became incomplete, warped and twisted, unable to ever return to whom they were, and unable to fully find rest. They could not even be granted the proper passing because they did not fully cease to exist, not until the last few moments."

She pause, shifted, tone becoming more earnest. "Death is considered a burden, and yet a gift. To those who remained lost, trapped, we were able to give them this final gift. They rest now, some, but not all. We are far from breaking free of the past that binds us now more than ever so before." Medea drifted for a second before refocusing, turning her gaze back to Manyara. "This fate that binds us is a cruel one, and the path forward colder still. There is no time for hesitation as we move ourselves, as choices present themselves always. And you, child of famine, what is your choice?"

Sosiqui

 

[Sosiqui]

Manyara's defiant look drained into utter blankness as Medea laid out the fate of those who had fallen - worse than death. There was a long period of silence after the priestess' question.

Then her toes creaked into the ground, nails digging in as her body betrayed the tone of her thoughts. "Who do we kill? Whose heads are stained with their blood?" she asked, almost manic, as if she couldn't wait to get with the killing. She leaned forward, eager for Medea's answer.

Zoobey