baby, you’re a haunted house

cimetière.

her gaze turns, her body following her muzzle, as she peers up at thr skeleton she'd been standing on. It was bleached from the sun. They lay in the dirt and dust, half-forgotten; relics of a time long since past. Would their bones lay here, too? Forever?

Somehow, that did not feel right.

She did not want to lay here, with the rest of these beasts. Surely, they deserved better. more. Do we have a graveyard? She asks in french, glassy eyes tracing the long, worn lines of the skeletons. Considering herself in their position, and finally her features pinch together in clear disapproval. I don't want to come here to die. She murmurs again in French, her tail flicking with idle annoyance. But she's said it and thus it will be so, even as she looks to @Louve ♔ to gauge her maman's thoughts.

Would she come and visit her here, one day?

better find another superstition!

code by anyu

louve felt much like her daughter did, that this was no place for gods. the dieudonne were meant for greater things, and in her opinion their rituals were the greatest honor of all. "ah non mon petit loup," she assures her daughter, quickly ah, no my little wolf!

dragging her claws across the nearest tusk, shivering at the sensation that curls up her bones, "les dieudonnés valent mieux que ça." the dieudonne are better than this. better than the great beasts of amaryllis, no matter their size and might.

"quand nous mourons, nous donnons notre corps à notre sang. une grande et honorable fête." when we die we give our bodies to our blood. a great and honourable feast. and would this appease her dream-walker child? would she with the stars in her eyes accept such things?

@Lazare

A VOICE MADE OF TEETH

table by sentinel / art

baby, you’re a haunted house

The sound of @Louve ♔'s claws against the bones makes a horrid, grating sound and lazare grins to hear it. A melody to her; a headache to others. Her mother's words, too, are beautiful, a balm to her worried, mottled ears. They were meant for more than this. Meant to be more than just dusty, old bones left forgotten. abandoned.

un banquet, her maman says, and little lazare frowns.

Non, she says after a long moment -- consideration dawning slowly over her features. Piebald and placid, peering up at louve with a firm sincerity. non, je ne veux pas de ça. no, i don't want that. a ritual she would not partake in, because -- je ne pense pas que je veuille un jour mourir. i don't think i ever want to die. spoken from a mouth, sharp with shark teeth, grinning wide as she nods. A declaration, as serious as it is childish.

And who was louve to tell her no?

better find another superstition!

code by anyu

Non, she says, and Louve wants to warn her to mind her tongue. wants to tell her dream-walker daughter that some things are necessary, that it is inevitable.

Instead, for a moment, she listens. and as @Lazare speaks a slow grin spreads across louve's face. "then you will live forever," she promises in a whisper, conspiratorial declaration meant only for her daughter.

because, yes, who was she to deny the descendant of a god?

"come," she demands, then, "i'll race you home." away from the bones, away from the long-dead bodies.

*its all french im lazy

- exit w/laz -

I AM SO SORRY I MISSED REPLYING TO THIS

ART BY BUNNY, CODE BY LARS