Dove

Dove

Well-known member
Time had passed. And it brought storms, and washed away. And in it's wake was the soft growth of change.

It was hard to believe that a few months ago, she was but a withered fledgling, feathers stained red, dirt crusted in her hair, handing her last coin to a sympathetic, tired inn keep.

Now, she sits, on top of a barrel, free of her tattered robes, kicking against the old wood as her laughter carries into the sky. Her wings flutter freely, coaxed out of their brace. And not one single feather fell- the mumbles and purrs of a suspicious leather cowboy hat sitting against her back. She readjusted herself, crossing her legs, her fingers playing with her toes as her eyes scan the horizon with patience and anticipation. She waits.

Perhaps the only thing that made her stand out from the rest of the Elum. She waits. And only for one person.

But you wouldn't know it- as she leans forward to a child and her mother, whispering a grand tale of ghosts and goblins. You'd think she was playing the part of a siren, coaxing people into the cove with her enchanting stories.

Her dull brown gaze looks again to the horizon. Any moment now..
 
Nothing quite like watching something grow. Whether it was that one tomato you nurtured in your windowsill or a proper person – it brought about joy to witness people changing into their better selves. Kinda proved the world to be a brighter place, if for a moment. And it never held long. But sometimes even fleeting glimpses were enough. And that's how Dove felt to her. Like a tomato.

Her arrival did not come obscured. In truth, she's very late. But it didn't matter. Time had little meaning when they stopped. And all of it when they were about to go. The same hour could see rush and lag. That was just the way of things among the Elum. And besides, Dove was still there. Still waitin'. So perhaps she was on time enough.

She stepped closer to catch Dove mid-lie about ghosts and gobalins. Funny how that changed. Must be that damn hat. Clearly a bad influence. Vyn shrugged her pack to the ground with a dull thud and complaining clinks. Her shoulders felt free at last. Tail scratched at the ankle.

„Hope you're not giving them ideas.“ Grin like butter on bread. „One ghost's bad enough.“
 
The moment Dove heard the pack in the ground, her shoulders raised- not in fear, but it excitement, the feathers of her crest stretching to the sky, filled with energies, those brown eyes lighting up with the tiniest bit of pink. She twists around, swinging her body towards Vyn, practically close enough to feel the warmth from her delicate form. Soft, like the setting sun.

"I am not!" she huffed, her lips pushed together in a mocking frown. "I am just telling them about Dusty's friends, and what they like and don't like." The 'friends' being the other spirits that inhabited the Elum. Like the evil chicken. Which isn't a chicken, it's a pheasant, but calling it a chicken seemed to greatly offend it and thus was a point of entertainment sometimes for Dove.

"Maybe.. if you got back sooner.." She gently tapped the shoulder of Vyn, and leaned back onto her arms. "I wouldn't have ideas to give!"

A few quiet moments pass, but eventually, she pushes herself up, and wraps Vyn in her arms, a comforting embrace.
 
Feathers up. Eyes pink. The tiny creature embraced Vyn despite the Roadstink. She had learned not to flinch at it. Sometimes still wondered if she was wrong not to. But here they were.

„Had I known you'd turn to wrangle ghosts and slander...“ The smile broke her face as her fingers poked Dove's ribs. „I'd have hurried.“ Looking at the little one, she winked. „Can't have you turn 'em to mischief.“

Vyn stood there, pinned in warmth. Never quite knew what to do with that. Nothing you could do but hum.

Hum and enjoy the Sun
 
Her body jerks a bit, instinctive response of a surprise tickle. She giggles a bit, shirking shyly. "Pfft. Naughty. You know better!" Her hands tease the bottom of the shirt, a reflexive comfort, her eyes cast away with a lil bit of a blush. Complication welled in her chest, cold flicking into the corner of her eyes, fighting with the heat of the moment.

The causality was the possibilities. All of the things she could have instinctively done there- to draw Vyn closer, to make this yet another story in the hearts of two flighty souls. Gone to the shadows that Dove hid under her white feathers.

She pulls herself away, pushing her hair back and jumping off the barrel. ".. So, let's get you clean- and then we can eat, and, Oh! I wanted to show you something." Already had an agenda for the night it seemed. No rest for the wicked.
 
Well whatever it was, it peeled the bird away. And she'd learned not to ask. There was something deeply hidden about Dove that Vyn had yet to understand. Perhaps never would. So she didn't bog herself down with thoughts that couldn't be untangled – not today anyway.

Left the pack there. And if the bugger wandered off, it would find its way back. Someone would point the way. No one really stole among the Elum. Things simply moved to where they were needed. And that's how it worked. How they worked.

So she moved towards water. Whatever it was she was to see – food sounded nice.

„Lead the way.“
 
Dove stops for a moment, paralyzed from the withdrawal. Why did she do that? That was wonderful, warm! She wanted that- wanted that so bad.. She could almost imagine the heat on her lips and the taste- the comfort, the scent. And for a moment, remorse overwhelmed her. Her movements stiffen, and halt, wilting for a moment, like the last blossom of a rose bush, the petals falling to the ground. Still bright, but weak.

She shook her head, and took a few steps forward, as if trying to fight it.

She rambled, and babbled. About the customers she got. The things that were given to her. The herbs that were found. She had taken the time to make Vyn and Jem sandwiches, with a little side of fried vegetables. Her cooking was getting better too! And of course, she made a treat. This time, cinnamon with cherry bits in it, chewy and soft.

".. Oh, also um.. I wanted to ask your thoughts on something. About.. a.. a ritual.. that someone told me about." she asked, tapping the tips of her fingers.
 
She could always see when something was off with Dove. Never pressed, though. She had once seen how flighty the creature got and had no desire to repeat the experience. So Vyn listened and pretend not to see. The customers all became much more fascinating. Business of bits and bobs told like a great epic of times past. Same practiced cheer you performed with. It was a poorly kept secret within the Elum. That cheer never had to be true. Only felt.

The food really had gotten better. Not that she objected much in the early days either. Any day when someone else cooked was a blessing. And she'd been blessed of late.

Rituals got more of her attention. They'd gotten lucky with Dusty. Still didn't mean Vyn ever let her guard down. There had been a close call too many.

„Ask.“
 
Breathe in. Breathe out.

Her movements seem still, save her fingers, which anxiously twitch and intertwined with the tips, the electricity of her hidden anxiety manifesting in the sudden jerks of each join. Her shoulders lay slack, her feathers close, but her eyes seem to flicker as if she was expecting.. something- but what?

".. So.. Um."

There's a pause. "There's been this.." She holds her word. "Thing. That's been haunting me. Not.. like a ghost- just.. something.. really deep that's bothering me. And- it's.. It's been getting pretty bad lately. It's.. stuck. It just shows up. As if I am chained. And- I.." Her eyes glance to the deva, seeing the movement. "One of the others had been noticing it, and thought maybe I should 'break' that chain, and talked about a ritual that helps with that and- I.. I kinda want to do it. Because, the chain, it's from something that no longer matters and- I.. I don't know. I think it's stopping me.." From holding you.

"From doing the things I want to do."

She leaned back. ".. But, I only trust one person when it comes to ghosts and rituals you know." She tries to capture back some of the sass, wiggling her thin finger at Vyn. "So, I thought, I'd consult you.. and, um, maybe have you be there? Just.. because, I like having you there."
 
Vyn did her best not to show fear. Still felt every bit of it. Because she knew what haunted meant. Her ghosts had been her own choice. Her own fault. Didn't make any of it sit better. As if consent was a spell that made everything alright. No. Not how the world worked. She didn't like the idea of chains on Dove – imaginary or otherwise. It seemed wrong to cage such a thing.

She experienced chains breaking firsthand. Back when Dove almost ceased to be Dove. Back when Loneliness lost her night. The spirit-balance was never the same after. But none of this gave her peace of mind. It only reinforced how dangerous the approach was.

„Who's this 'one of the others'?“ Suspicion stitched through her voice. When it came to ritual and binding, there were days she didn't trust herself. Everyone else was a longshot. Maybe Jem. But she still couldn't stop thinking how calm he'd been that night. Like he already knew. Like it was normal.

„If you decide to do it, you don't have to ask.“ She didn't smile, voice certain. „One word and I'm there.“

„But tell me more.“
 
"It is one of the new ones!" Dove's voice rose, slightly defensive, expecting her to lash out. A strange deduction all things considering. "You know, that small family, the one with artists. The ones that made that funny little store that sold.. 'cursed' things?" Dove pointed out. "Jem was with me though, he didn't seem to think it was a bad idea- just that he didn't think it'd work or do anything because.. 'that's not how it works.'" Her hands clasp together, thoughtful.

The 'cursed creations' were not actually cursed or haunted. Rather it earned it's name because the items that were created were a blight to the creative mind and cultural acceptance and aesthetic. Highly satirical in nature and most certainly questionable, it sold strange phallic creations that 'baited' people of certain types, had emblazoned unpopular truths onto wood, and made all sorts of delightfully amusing items. Ah yes, quite clearly the best folks to get advice from.

".. I just.. want it to stop." Her hand touches her chest beneath the baggy shirt again, the wraps of fabric she wore underneath still neatly covering her flesh despite the work and sun.

"... What do you think?" She asked.
 
Vyn remembered the newcomers. Considered them harmless for the most part. Wasn't sure if she liked them messing with Dove's head. But if Jem said it wasn't doing much, she trusted it. Because he was her blindspot. Whatever he said was surely for the best.

There was no reason to overworry. The 'curses' they seemed to deal in were overeager folktales. Real fun to listen to. No teeth, though.

Her eyes followed the skittish movements. She never quite understood why Dove was always so afraid. Of everything.

„I'm with Jem.“ As if there'd ever been any doubt. „But if you believe it'd help – sure, might as well give it a try.“

Wanted to add jabs about goats and boats – but held it in. Dove's fear wasn't a laughing matter.
 
Like always, the acceptance, the promise of security that Vyn provided Dove warmed away a great deal of her anxiety once it was delivered. Her feathers perked a bit. She reached for one of Vyn's hands, catching it for a moment and giving it a little squeeze, before letting go. It made her tremble. But -if Jem said it was worth trying, and Vyn didn't seem to have an issue with it, well, that means there was hope! And sometimes, that's what pulled people through this world versus anything.

"Well- um! Great! They said we have to wait until the next waning moon. Something about it meaning 'endings' and if I want it to work the best- that would be the day." Her hand moves to twiddle with the string that held Dusty in place. If a hat could comfort someone, it probably did it in a manner like this. The string never seemed to slip away from Dove's fingers. Even when she coaxed it off.

".. I guess- I can get you something to eat right? I made you a new stew. It's.. kind of good. I put bacon in it, from the last village. And potatoes. And um.." She paused. "Salt.. a lot. On accident though, it fell out of my hands and- I couldn't figure out how to um, fix it. Jem said it tasted like a desert. I don't quite know what that means."
 
Her face grew less convinced with every word Dove spoke. A waning moon? What did that even mean? There were eight of them. Some nights even Vyn couldn't figure out what it was she was seeing. And she was supposed to trust Dove's haunting to some random guy who talked of waning moons. Didn't sit right. She'd have to ask around camp who exactly these people were.

Kept checking herself before she acted. Still remembered how she lost her cool with the cursevendor back at Sev's. That couldn't happen again. She was the adult here. There was something to be said about hope. A fragile thing, needed constant tending. Even then, it rarely grew roots. Surely there was a way for these scam artists to do whatever it was they did without breaking Dove's spirit.

But this wasn't a moment for dread – that would come later. When she cornered them alone. Because you couldn't hide from an Elum within the Wagons. Thoughts turned to food and she perked up.

„Oh.“ She knew what Jem meant. „Know just the thing.“ Bucket of water. Maybe two. It all hinged on how much salt Dove exactly let go.
 
Dove shrugged. "Oh, I dropped the salt shaker in it."

A shrug. "Which, means I will probably have to get more, wherever we go next." She chuckled a bit. "You know, oddly enough, I never cooked with meat until I became part of the Elum, did I ever tell you that? We often ate grains.. rice, fruit. Lots of fruit. Syrups- honey." A finger is lashed out as she lists each item, trying to make sure she included everything. "Oh, and beans!" She nodded. "I honestly didn't have any meat until I tried it for the first time in that inn-.." she nodded.

".. Maybe I should try more. Oh- but hunting is so.." She shudders, squeamish, her feathers stretching in several direction. "It makes me feel so guilty, but- maybe not. Do you think they die quickly?" The rambles would continue for the duration of the way, almost as if she had forgotten the severity of the concerns she had brought up, and her plans to deal with them.

Arriving at the car, and the kids lingered. trying to catch a sweet before dinner. "Oh, come now, you know the rules! Your mothers have been chewing my feathers off!"
 
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