"Run, Great Wolf! For even the hunter becomes the hunted at the end of his day, and it is your time now. Us, the Little Rabbits, shall give chase until the moon turns its belly away and until the grasses fall back into dirt."
The fairytale had been one of the last words that Python uttered to her children, like bloodshed laid gently upon her wake, a corporal reminder of what she had always been. The molly hated that such a mawkish, sentiment string of falsehood would be what her children remembered her as, but perhaps it was much better than the scarlet-stained, half-dead corpse that had become. Metallic tang enfolded her tongue, drowning what verse of heresy that budded within ivory-lined maw. She could not take them in her exile, for they would surely become overspill in the bloodbath that former subjects decreed, and she could not bare any wounds - material or immaterial - that would befall her kittens. Victimless crime had befallen her, for could a martyr ever be a victim, and could a tyrant ever be felled from her legacy? Even if they were born of bastard blood, Python still cared for her children - thus, the most kindness she would ever bestow upon them would be to sever herself from their lives. The woman only held her Goddess close as she ran, but even She became a sequin plastered upon an afterthought in the face of starvation and thirst, reduced to mere prayer pushed into puddled breath. Looking into the breadths of the night sky, Python became acquainted with another feeling that her kingdom had shielded her from - the alienating sense of being alone amongst the stars, and none would speak of guidance nor grace. Solitude as running turned to walking to hobbling and finally, to stopping underneath shrouded shelter.
Python wandered for what seemed like eternities afterwards, as if time engorged itself within her ailing and aching form, a stagnant yet superimposed force. It had only been one full turn of the moon, though, as it slowly arose to be the same as it was when she left. Now, it was morning, and the sun peeked curiously upon her wiry and torn features. The world had not been kind to her, despite her reverence. Her Goddess did not whisper to her, despite her piety. Paws ached as the wiry molly reached the coastline now, soft waves a crown adorning the thankless sands, and sparkling sea extending to form the veil. Weariness dusted at her eyes, and though she attempted to blink it away, she knew it would not phase from her so easily. This was her salvation - a ceaseless expanse, an ever-churning chaos below. Salt-crusted scent informed her that she was farther from home than she had ever been, like a brocade of new and overwhelming senses, though she deftly weaved through them in search of a place to rest her feet. She continued walking, for there was little else to do but continue forwards.
It had not been long until her nostrils detected the strong mark of civilization, as if drivel from the maw of Lady Luck herself, of whom had turned a cold shoulder to her until this very moment. She had taken her most beloved subject to a place where strange 'tails' of planks, like trees stripped of their pelts of greenery, held themselves to the water. By now, the morning had ripened into a glaring mess upon the waters. It was not ideal, but it was what she happened upon first. Python waited near the shade for some passerby to walk into her field of view, allowing the gloom to envelop her as vermeil did to the fresh wound, a vulnerable yet protected blister upon her brittle body. The shadow accuentated skin curling inwards to reveal jutting ribs, and once-fed muscles now almost withered beneath sinew. Perhaps it was best to act as though she were an ailing vagrant rather than an overthrown leader... The molly could only hope that the group who lived here took kindly to strangers, and took little offense to who she had been before this moment. From now, I am nobody except for the name I bear. I have let go of my past shames and failures. Thick saliva seemed to compact in her throat as she swallowed. She remembered, she remembered so well that it hurt to even become the vessel for such terrible memories. Her kittens... could they bear to see the woman she had unraveled into? Could they live with themselves, knowing that their mother had given them up so easily?
She breathed out again, as if to expel away the doubts that clung so stubbornly to paper-thin windpipe. They would not be her voice now, nor her vice. I have let go of those who knew me before.
. - Was intentionally a little vague about her backstory, but to be clear, she is at the end of the Shipyard's borders :3
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