#erenstarter

Erišum was here, his memories of this time had been obscured but Nettelia still remembered it well. Undoubtedly, her sister was here somewhere, if memory serves Dionaeia was competing in the tournament elsewhere in the city. Though, that may have no longer been true this time around. Time was a fickle thing, she remembered being in the throws of it, her and Erišum observing the parade with an amphora of cretan wine shared between them. Back then her grief had all but consumed her, this day wasn’t what brought her to the brink, but her dreams had been polluted by what it was she must do to release Prometheus and she’d resigned herself to her fate. 

In her youth Nettelia had wrangled against destiny’s restraints, her anarchist nature that wished to defy the Gods as if time had any will or desire of its own. The wheel turned as the wheel would, it could not want for anything, just as a mountain or a river could not want. Those who sought to break free of it only brought a worsened fate upon them, tenfold. 

“Do you remember this?” Nettelia asked as she approached the other, a distant chant of music and the strumming of instruments filtered towards them, “We have much to discuss, but first, if memory serves this day started with a dance.”

Training wasn’t going as well as Atlas was hoping. He had a feline trait, apparently. Cats. Big ones, small ones. That was something the druid was meant to transform into but the only cat he’d ever really known was the one at home and inherently he just ended up mimicking her. How many chances was he going to have to stare at a fucking lion? This felt... Well... It felt impossible. Flustered and overworked, Atlas started crying because he wasn’t sure why Octavian had chosen him when transforming into a house cat was going to do absolutely nothing when it came to protecting humanity. 

A predator lurched in the shadows and infringed against Atlas’ peripherals as he called out to the dark, “Hello - ?” Came the query as he looked out and wondered who was there. “Is someone watching me?” He asked, the thought more enticing than he wanted to let on. It was prime cruising time, maybe this would be his meetcute. The figure that came out was... Not what Atlas expected, dead in every sense of the word, there was no heartbeat, no breathing. Just a hunger in the creature’s eyes as it got ready to lunge. 

A roar followed as Atlas felt the wind rush at his back, startled, he fell backwards as something massive leapt over him and pounced on the vampire that was about ready to rip his throat out. In the dark it looked like a medley of shadows, but there was the audible crunch of bones before the vampire’s head rolled across the ground. Atlas swallowed, terrified that he was going to be next, on four legs it prowled from the shadow as moonlight revealed a dense mane, a thick coat. Fangs and claws that dripped in dead ichor - the look in its eyes one that Atlas would never forget before in a simple, easy transition it went from beast to man. “You’re-” Atlas started, “you’re a druid.”

Winter was in full force but the solstice was behind them, the days would get longer, the nights would get shorter, and eventually warm would sink into the earth again. Yavie didn’t resent the seasons for turning, but the once-jovial fey had let the season get the better of him. A rot settled in his core, one that was felt in the natural world around him as the trees began to bow and break as their center was eaten away by something unseen. In truth, Yavie couldn’t help it. 

“My father used to tell me stories about the druids, guardians of man, protectors of the mortal realm.” Yavie watched a few stray fools wander into the forest and idly wondered if they’d ever find their way out again. Zahrya, for all his exuberance, was hardly ever kind to mortals. “Do you think it’ll last-?” The autumn creature asked, “this... spirit of cooperation?”