The cave she had chosen was suitable. Near both an emergency and main exit, and she had a neighbor to one side. While Misery valued her privacy she also wanted someone to hear if she was in need of aid - she had a nasty habit of getting herself into trouble. Anathema was a comforting place overall though - hidden beneath the earth, she felt safe. It should have made her nervous to be near trapped, but she liked it. No Salvaged or Hearse could slip into the dark caverns and tear her apart. The caves were naturally cool as well, and while she knew when they got damp they'd play hell on her old joints she would enjoy the respite in the heat of summer. Age had not been particularly kind to the white wolf. Falling into the truckle role again would be easy - Misery had been born to serve.
Misery was a scavenger by nature. The three heavy packs she had dragged and fought with from Khalif were mostly littered and opened up now - jars of dyes, bandages and herbs, her tattoo gun, a few bottles of alcohol and many other things were scattered all about. A blanket made of thick, fluffy fur was tossed carelessly in one corner, along with a white robe and a few scraps of incense. Her inventory was vast and cluttered and she was idly deciding that it would probably be best to sort through it. But some things came first. Her cane was propped up against the side of her cave's entrance, and the short female was holding a large glass jar of white paint, and in the middle of drawing a symbol on the wall. The circle was mostly done, a stark white shape, and Misery was carefully applying sharp little points around it - a sun symbol - the sign of Ankh. Misery had stuffed a few candles into gouges on the wall, and in the flickering light she was quite busy - rather oblivious that anyone walking by could spot her hard at work on the simple symbol.
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He enjoyed watching the flames move; loved to watch the shadow dance against the dark stone walls within the earth’s womb. He belonged to the darkness, for it was where he could slip away into nothing and become invisible. The outside world remained alien in his beryl hued eyes, and so he remained under the mountain, though he had watched another canine die her. Safety was not a given thing anymore, but the threat had been vanquished by his father’s strong jaws. The child’s heart rate would always pick up its pace whenever he revisited the memories of blood, sickness and a man that died. But Pandemic was no longer upset.
Puppy paws draped with pure black brought the young D’Angelo towards the woman dressed in pale. What was she doing? Perhaps it would be unwise to approach, but curiosity was a powerful pull, and the dark child followed without question. Dull gray-green gaze revealed only that blind curiosity as he invaded Misery’s home and investigated what she was doing to the cave wall. He did not speak up to announce his interest, but did not hesitate to draw up close without considering the fact that the possibility that he would be told to leave was present.
Kismet had pulled her to Anathema. Misery had come and gone so many times, but this time she would stay. The lands called to her and the grandchildren Larkspur had fathered were too precious to leave. The female could feel her own mortality creeping closer and closer - and even if in her madness she thought herself immortal, there were moments of clarity where she was perfectly aware of her impending demise. Misery had never taken very good care of herself and the fear of dying haunted her in the dark nights at times. But she wasn't focused on living or dying at the moment, she was utterly absorbed in painting the white sun on the wall.
You have a visitor. Damian's voice was dour and amused, and she looked down at the small black puppy. The feeling of being watched was powerful, and she offered a faint grin. The puppy smelled strongly of Larkspur and she couldn't help the feeling of joy that ran through her. The poor thing had been condemened to serve Tak, but she would save them. "Hello there, little one." Misery's voice was soft and cheerful and she lowered her hands from her work, looking down at the little male.
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The glare from the blinding orb in the sky could not reach his home under the earth. For that, the young soul was grateful. But now, there was a miniature sun displayed on the wall so close to the family den. Hues of combined green and gravy narrowed slightly, uncertain if he liked this painting that the pale woman was drawing on a wall that had been perfectly good before she had smeared white all over it. He liked the dark; there should be no suns here.
But the adult’s voice was welcoming and warm, and the young child could easily be persuaded with some kindness. He was not little though; he was quite big compared to his two siblings. Perhaps he could have explained that, but the male was somewhat shy of speaking to individuals he was not at complete ease with. His dark tail wagged though, fuelled by a lightening spirit. Hi,” he said, turning his beryl hues to the woman’s leg. His teeth were itching, but his preferred way of greeting another would not do here.
She was not a stranger, but he did not perceive her as family. Not yet anyway. But he liked her eyes and the approval in her tone. Yes, he liked her.
There was a certain sense of superiority she could have around puppies that no one else gave her. Misery was actually bigger than puppies, and they were really the only form of luperci she stood above. Misery had run into quite a few coyotes that were bigger than her, and that was laughable enough. Misery was unaware of any other youth in the pack, and his eyes were familiar. They weren't as bright as many of the D'Angelo eyes were, but the soapy green was close enough for her. "Are you Larkspur's son?"
Misery preferred the dark as well, but she had no desire for the devil god of the Khalif to snatch her up in the night. The sun would help protect her from wickedness. When her joints ached less, she would set to making a dreamcatcher as well. They protected from nightmares and the little female had plenty more of those than she ever wanted. "My name's Misery. Larkspur is my son." Not by blood, but that mattered little. She had saved him from the unctuous white devils of the Khalif, he would always belong to her.
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The lady spoke his father’s name, and his ebony tail wagged with the instant recognition of the man that was the young child’s hero. Sometimes the man told frightening stories that made the boy’s belly tickle with chill, but there was no other idol that could match the rank his father held in Pandemic’s mind. In a child’s world, its parents were gods. A nod followed soon after, and the youngling’s black lips retrieved a smile of impulse. He was Larkspur’s son, yes! Did she not see how big and strong he was?
Next flow of words were slightly difficult to interpret, but it was not too much for him not to understand. A grandmamma then. He had not known this! Eagerness rushed into his body in an instant, but found itself battling shyness and a solid dose of suspicion. How could his father’s mother appear inside here without his daddy mentioning this first? He had thought Misery was a word. Perhaps it was her name that had been mentioned instead. It was slightly confusing, but the world was a chaotic place for a young, inexperienced soul. Being his daddy’s momma, she had to know his name too?
”Da’s never mentioned you..” the boy commented, his smile quickly withering.
For my grandbebbie!