#sequoia oc

Sequoia was pacing, constantly looking out her windows, likely looking for possible attackers. None came, of course, no point in attacking the nature spirit you're attempting to hold hostage.

Andes sat beside him, silently fidgeting with a woven cowboy hat, its rim coated in air plants. It obviously wasn't her's, it wouldn't have fit between her antlers.

"Is that your companion's?"

"It was at the border along with his poncho," she gestured at a chair with a pure moss poncho, a small spot on the rim covered in flowers, "I'm not sure why they left them behind."

He held out a hand, admiring the handiwork as the hat was passed to him, "Bella knows better than to bring the sun's plants into the sanctuary. They would die too quickly in there."

"What was Bella to you? You seem to know a lot about her." Andes asked the question as if it was as simple as talking about the weather. She was just... curious.

Atlas twisted the two wooden bands on his ring finger, willing himself to not slip back into the memories of his last moments with both of his partners.

Andes talked in a smaller voice now, "Sorry. Bad question."

"You're fine. I. I should probably explain."

At this, Sequoia stopped pacing and faced him. She didn't say "finally" but he could feel it. She was desprate to hear news about the satyr girl.

Andes stood, walking to the stove behind him and scooping up two mugs of boiling water. She set one in front of him, which he took gratefully. Atlas carefully placed his small, barely functional infuser into the mug, staring into the depths of the liquid.

"I am the current priest of the Lunar Queen."

Sequoia gasped almost inaudibly, unable to find her words before he spoke again.

"What you call the Grove is sacred ground that has been corrupted and taken out of Her control. The priestess before me has been abusing her position and corrupting the power of the Lunar Queen for... I don't know how many years."

He took a deep breath, nails digging into his mug, "she— Our Fair Lady— reached me in a dream and explained the truth." He didn't elaborate, not willing to speak the prophecy aloud just yet, "I was declared as her priest. So, my predecessor, having lost her position, is attempting to kill me with the power she's held onto."

"What does this have to do with Eliana?"

"The satyr girl is being held hostage to try and force you to give up more territory. They're threatening the North Sun by threatening you."

He sipped his tea, the warmth spreading through his body. It brought him some clarity through the incessant aching of his head, but the clarity only made the visions worse. He felt himself slip, knowing he couldn't break himself from this one.

--

He was standing in a small clearing in the woods, a full moon silhouetting him. A gravemarker stood at its center, shaped as a trellis. Below it was the last living sprout of Jasmine, never to be inhabited by the spirit again.

"Why here?" He found himself asking.

"You know I do not control the location, my priest. You brought yourself here." The Moon's tone was gentle, understanding, and full of an ancient grief he was starting to understand.

He sat beside Jasmine's grave, too weak to stand for so long, "I'm trying my best."

The Moon sat beside him, the jasmine vines growing in her presence, "You say this as if it weren't reason I chose you."

"I failed you. She. She hates me and Jasmine is—"

"You have not failed me. Bella can still be saved, so long as you save her brother first."

Atlas looked up at this, "He's dead."

The Moon shook her head, "Corian still lives, even just barely."

"How...? How do I?"

"Patience, my priest. If I speak now, it will upset the fragile balance we have found."

--