[open] I hear you, stranger. [LARVA]

[Ruthless]

you are a craving I can never satisfy

She is a yellow flower amongst a war of white and grey, the winds so strong and powerful even her stout form struggles for footing. When normally light would still linger with the sun peaking above the meadow’s treeline, she is blanketed by an army of white clouds and bullets of ice shooting from the sky.
 
But a sturdy flower she is.
 
Despite the horrid weather, Ruthless is lost in her mind. The regret of leaving the Taiga without so much as a warning bearing down on her like a daunting eagle on a mouse. The worry of Lilliana and her whereabouts echoing in her brain with the voice of Brine. The voice of another lost relative.
 
By choice.
 
By the time our golden mare comes to, she is engulfed by a shelter of trees with naked limbs. Only the light whistle of wind at the tips of the trees proof of her previous endeavor, the rest of the forest so quiet she swears the scurry of a mouse would sound as an alarm.
 
It isn’t until she finds herself amongst familiar pine trees, a place where she had come often to think, that she comes to a sworn halt. As if the place itself demands her attention, begs her to take a moment to analyse what’s going on.
 
Kalil is gone.
 
Lilliana is gone.
 
Why do I fucking smell Wolfbane everywhere.
 
Her brain is constantly struggling to find a balance between anger and pain, desperate to feel just one way. Pleading for things to just turn easy. Things aren’t easy anymore. It’s just how it is.
 
Kalil is gone.
 
Lilliana is gone.
 
Wolfbane is everywhere.
 
And there is nothing I can do about it.
 
She returns her attention to the dead forest, watching a bird land atop a branch a few feet above her. The soft call sings and almost covers the oncoming footsteps that alarm in front of her, hidden by distance and forest limb foliage. But she hears them in all their mystery, and for once she doesn’t cower or cringe.
 
She simply stands, awaiting the stranger.

Ruthless

@[Larva]

[Larva]

i will be brutal

He no longer cares for the troubles of others when they don’t concern him in any degree. Larva has already forgotten Wolfbane and moved on to the next thing – how to pick off the few of his young that he dislikes. Would Vulgaris finally let him cull that awful daughter of his, with her snickering and vile games? Probably not. But maybe Ryatah will give birth to something ugly and he can pull it apart like wild dogs tearing into a dying animal. There is some comfort in that thought.

His sage green eyes lift to spot Ruthless in a little gathering of naked trees and he remembers her. The stupid one. A smirk pulls at one corner of his lips, but he does not say any of these memories aloud. Instead he draws closer and offers her a polite little nod of his head. He’s in a good mood today.

“You survived your little ordeal. How fortunate,” he says with a light laugh. “And yet you don’t look happy to be breathing. Was not everyone so lucky?”

And then Larva watches her. He has watched his loved ones die and it has made him callous to it. There is such precious little for him to lose anymore and it has left him hollowed out. There is only rage left to walk the echoing halls of his ribs – a rage that wants only to take from others as they have taken from him.

“Your name was… Ruthless, right?” he asks as his eyes trace the outline of her wings. “The older I get, the more names I have to remember, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m wrong.”

Then his gaze drifts across her hips before he reminds himself he doesn’t have to be a lecherous fool all the time. Larva focuses instead on her mouth to avoid old habits.

@[Ruthless]

[Ruthless]

you are a craving I can never satisfy

His grey skeleton floats to her, his presence as suffocating and nauseating as the stagnant scent of pine needles flooding her nostrils. She flicks her tail, already uncomfortable by their reunion.

His voice is a foghorn among a dead sea of tree branches and fallen leaves, leaving her winded for words initially. You survived your little ordeal, was not everyone so lucky?

“No thanks to your cowardly actions of course, but I survived,” her words thick and clear, she shifts her weight off her hind leg to find a complacent stance.

She wouldn’t bow to his height. Not today.

“We all survived,” she is able to find footing in her train of thought, remembering the confidence of Fiorina and the nobility of Lilliana.

Nobility. Hah.

That day had changed her, surely. The once weak and naïve now cautious and guarded, our golden mare had prospered under the chaos that had ensued. Kalil had been there, Lilliana had been there, even Fiorina had checked on her—yet, she has never felt more alone.

Even more so when her only company is this one.

“You’re right, it’s Ruthless,” she nods, allowing her eyes to trace every scar worn into his body that she hadn’t noticed before—chinks in his steel armor—before continuing, “you’re forgiven for forgetting my name, I was young then.”

She will not forgive him for leaving that day in the field, but part of her doesn’t hold resentment either. Surely, he was a coward, but who wouldn’t have been?

If she had been allowed the opportunity to run, would she have?

Yes.

“And you are Larva. I don’t think I could forget you,” and it’s true, she likely never will. His arrogance, his confidence, and his retreat. He took part in one of the most influential moments of her life, whether he acknowledges it or not.

Ruthless

@[Larva]

[Larva]

i will be brutal

In his youth, he was often inspired to protect the weak from tyranny and monsters like himself. Strange bouts of kindness stained his heart and rallied him into action. But each day that gentleness grew rarer and his outlook darkened. Now, he is content to look out for himself and only himself. His love for others has withered and died as he learned that everyone he cares for leaves in some way or another.

This is why he simply laughs when she chastises him for leaving the group that day. He does, however, offer her a casual roll of his shoulders. “I would prefer not to die again if I can help it,” he explains with a sharpened smile.

He’s pleased when she tells him he is correct in remembering her name. But her comment makes him tilt his head and that grin fades into a thoughtful stare.

“You are still very young. This world has not chiseled away at the core of you. You are quite fortunate, in that regard.”

He does not elaborate on what he means or how life may gnaw one down to their raw, feral heart. Larva has seen the depths to which he will allow himself to plummet and clawed his way up from them time and time again. There is no doubt in his mind that there will come day he hits rock bottom once more.

“What did you learn that day in the field, Ruthless?”

@[Ruthless]