[P] (FALL) A memoir of love and death

[Castalla]

My skin is a map
Of all the battles I've fought
Of all the lives I've taken
Of all the people I've lost

Halloween was always a dangerous time in Alanaris. With the veil between worlds weakened monsters, true monsters, haunt the night. Most knew not to walk the Hallowed darkness, to take their chance against the demons, werewolves and ghouls that crawled amidst the shadows. But some did not. And some walked Hallow’s Eve anyway. Of course since the fall of the Old Gods magic had diminished greatly and the creatures that were once unstoppable were mere ghosts of their former glory. No, it was the hunters you had to watch out for; the men and women hoping to land themselves a decent bit of coin hunting on the night when the monsters were supposedly out more. Many an innocent shifter found themselves the prey of a monster hunter, chained and taunted for little more than sport. But many a hunter also found themselves prey to Castalla, who took it upon herself to protect the innocents deemed monster because of little more than their blood. It was an empty comfort when there was nothing the Wolf could do to change the laws that defined her kind as monsters, that made their heads such valuable prizes. Instead her comfort came from the blood of hunters on her tongue, their flesh between her teeth. She did not kill them, no she let them witness her, let them tell stories of the vicious white wolf who attacked them and freed their quarry. Let them fear her.

Hunting on Halloween provided the perfect distraction, forcing her mind to focus on the land, on the fear of her people and the smug blood lust of monster hunters. It stopped her from dwelling on the souls that lay the other side of the veil, the touch of those lives that she had lost. But here, now, in Denocte, there was no such distraction and death seemed an ever present shadow.

Castalla wanted to see the way the night was aflame with candles and lanterns, the way Night Court citizens meandered the streets in joyful celebration of the ghostly holiday. But she was oblivious to all but the soft touch of the past on her shoulder, the caress of memories against her marred skin. Each scar was a death, the cut of a weapon by one who inevitably found themselves dead by her hoof. But it was not those that weighed so heavily on tonight- no those memories rarely ever lifted from her shoulders. Instead it was the weight of the souls she had lost, the souls she had been unable to save, the souls who’d given themselves in battle besides her. Away from the crowds, from the lantern-lit streets and bustling markets, a memorial was nestled among the shadows that danced with the flickering flames of tiny candles. Each representing someone somebody had lost. There were not enough candles for her dead. Nevertheless Castalla lit one, one for the soul that lay most heavy upon her shoulders, that walked besides her that night, invisible and intangible. And gone.

The voice that snakes from the darkness startles the femme, though she does not let him see that. It was as though he’d emerged from the shadows themselves, silent as the night unless he spoke from besides her. One audit flicks towards him, though her gaze remains fixed on the twirling flame of her lit candle.

“My dead are too numerous.”

Her voice is soft, sombre, a hoarse rasp that was a far cry from her usual sumptuous fortissimo. Blinking away the memories that surfaced in her mind’s eye she collects herself internally, rising slowly, though gracefully, from her knees to turn to the steed besides her. His skin is a sky of stars, christened by the mark of a moon upon his shoulder; the Wolf cannot help but see how he would fit in among the Night Court. Castalla is not sure if she, herself, belong among the court- she is a wild creature even if her powers are diminished and the call of her wolf near silent.

“No matter where you travel, there will always be so many dead.” Uncharacteristically melancholic, she gestures with an elegant swing of her head to the tempestuous flames, a beacon among the shadows of sorrow.

C | I

@Tenebrae I apologise this ended up so long, please don't feel compelled to match it, I don't usually write this much xD