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TW: mention of blood & murderA patriarch stands upon a rock, high and mighty as she always knew him; he looks upon her with tearful eyes, detesting the abomination he sees her as now. Deep beneath a scornful gaze, she desperately searches - could she find the fondness he held, mere days prior? If she apologized, could he still embrace her like he did before?
As grief-stricken words fumble from his mouth - grief that she knows is not for her - she knows that the love between them had withered and died, like a meadow ripped by fire.
"You are a scourge upon this world," he croaks out for all to hear. Eyes bear into her, into her stiff posture and crimson-stained paws. "You are a plague upon us. A bounty is now upon your head. You have ten blinks to escape with your life."
'One. Two.' Finally, she tears her gaze away, towards the war-hungry monsters that creep closer. 'Three. Four.' It is a mercy, that her broken flame gives her a running start, lest she be ripped to shreds. 'Five. Six.' But a greater mercy, her desired outcome, would be forgiveness for her sins.. for him to return to her, to embrace her knowing she had freed him from his shackles. Is it not what he wanted.. to be a true father to her kits, without the burden of his newly-late lover that he had promised to not truly love? Was she not what he wanted, after all?
'Seven. Eight.'
The molly takes in a breath, lashes her tail.. and with hounds of cats on her heels, she runs.
A couple of sunrises had passed her, now. Her pursuers had long since exhausted themselves. It is just her, and the vast unknown, now. Well.. her, and the little ones that kick her belly, as if they had naught else to worry about in this world but to simply be. She is exhausted as she walks, sore paws and spindly legs aching as she moves through the terrains, picking off at days-old scraps. There is no goal, no dream; only the sting of betrayal and heart-break. Where am I supposed to go? she had longed to say to him then, should he have spared her the chance to speak. Now, as she raises her narrowed eyes to the sky, the only thing she can wonder is the same. Where am I supposed to go?
She has stopped counting the time. Fear has consumed her brain - perhaps that is why, when she sees a burnt silhouette of an Upwalker structure ahead - she pushes forward to scavenge. She had never been fond of the strange creatures, as her colony had strictly forbidden contact with them. But for the safety of her unborn offspring, could she trust them, if just for a moment to feed?
It is not Upwalker scent that hits her nose when she leaves the treeline, gazing upon a vast expanse of prairie and heather. The smell is stronger, but familiar - her heart quickens, be that by horror or hope, and she quickens her pace into the moorland. They were here recently, she notices, briefly examining the worn path of grass. A colony. The molly raises her nose to the sky as she trots, feeling her lungs tighten with the effort to breathe. Where there is cats, there is food, there is rest, there is survival.
"Help!"
she gasps out, as if the cats sent to execute her demise, though long left behind, were still upon her. Her body only afford her one call, and some fox-lengths of distance, before the ragged queen buckles forward. Her head spins - for a moment, the sun seems too much brighter. Pawsteps sound at her hearing's farthest reach, and it is only them that keeps her head up, looking.. waiting. "Help..."
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- ooc: — hello...
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a complex and mysterious molly; timid and meek on the surface, what dwells beneath..?
