Welcome to Gaia! ::

The snow barely had a chance to settle on Felicity’s shoulders due to the hasty speed at which she was moving. The bitter frost that had gripped the city meant that there were less people on the street and the worrisome woman was utilising this quietness to do her shopping – the less chance of bumping into the better. She had been to several establishments already; the bakers had provided her with a greyish loaf of bread tucked under her arms, the grocers – a wilted cabbage in a paper bag alongside the butcher’s questionable sausage meat... Her dinner for tonight? Steamed cabbage and tomorrow morning? Sausages with a slice of unbuttered bread. Boring? Yes. But it would be filling and warm enough to get her comfortably through the cold night. Now she wanted to return home before her feet quite literally dropped off – the leather lace-ups she wore soaked up the snow and she was certain her toes would be tinted blue by the time she got back home.

However, proceeding home appeared to be a right she was denied as a pitiful voice requested her attention. A child, no more than a mere twelve or thirteen years of age, was stumbling through the thin blanket of white towards her. Instinctively Felicity shied away – he appeared to be in a terrible state and her mind’s instant reaction was to deem him unclean, probably a carrier of the plague and therefore a danger to her person.

“W-what do you w-w-ant?” She stuttered, clutching her purchases close to her chest and regarding him from a safe distance. He truly was pitiable.. His soft childish face was hollowed by hunger and cold and his clothes hang of him in an ever so miserable fashion. Her nerves were sudden grinding against her dusty maternal nature. She used to love children. Loved the prospect of having her own... That was a bad move, thinking about what could’ve been. A lump rose in her throat. Even a year after being left- left at the... left at the alter she still got teary eyed...

Fumbling in a pocket she pulled out a hankerchief and placed it to cover her mouth and nose. It smelt faintly of lavender and mothballs... Not overly unpleasant but that was beside the point. With the makeshift barrier to the possible miasma of plague she crept a little closer to the feeble child.

The inside of the shack was hung trick with gloom and as the door creaked open to greet the quartet of tired and fretting souls a tongue of incense emerged into the night-time air, licking the sallow face of Felicity Wickes. Her heart was racing, but a haphazard smile was on her face despite the obvious nerves and tiredness associated with stay up into the small hours of the night tramping around trying to scrounge followers. Her tactic of targeting unfortunates had been mostly successful – offering help had only received a few negative responses and only once had she been rebuked aggressively. (Her first follower – the homeless man – stood up for her though and they had made a quick and safe escape.) Now she was here reporting her accomplishment.

The House of Obscurvos would welcome her with open arms! Already she could feel the promise of her very own bird mask kissing her face. It was her protection through these troubled times. Whilst others suffered from the plague she would be safe amongst the chaos – ready to be eaten up and reborn into a pure perfect world. Just thinking about it caused the normally highly strung woman to sigh, relaxing at the prospect of an easy life... finally.

“Felicity.... have you succeeded?” The voice of the cult member issued forth almost like the croak of the crow that resided on the roof of the house. Flustered Felicity nodded and stepped aside to let his dark eyes peer out of the darkness at her ramshackle collection of soon to be admitted Obscurvians. The homeless man was standing at the head of the small crowd, his unshaven face pitted with confusion but rapt concentration. Behind him the two children lingered somewhat; the boy was being shielded by the wiry body of his sister – she was glaring at the shack and it’s suspicious resident, the glass bottle still clutched tightly in her hand. Lastly, the drunk was staggering, occasionally propping herself up on the man. Wincing Felicity looked for approval in the shadowed eyes... He hadn’t expected more... had he?

Apparently the man did accept what she had brought him, though his approval was a silent one, signalled only by the opening of the door. Turning his back on them he slunk back into the shadows of the shack leaving Felicity to glance once between the open door and her motly crew before following him. “In w-we g-go... The h-house c-can help-p you.” She promised with a crazed nod. She was wringing her hands eager to get the place in the cult she had been promised... They would also be entered into the house and be reborn. The children... they would love her – she was their saviour! The thought buoyed her up and erased the grime from the interior of the shack. She was a worker of the Glutton God now: A priestess bringing people to the heart of the chaos where they could be safe.

The others followed, albeit more reluctantly, and when they were all inside the door closed and was locked. Felicity frowned and her head snapped round on her scrawny neck to spy a new person. When she had first come to the shack there had been only one resident... Apparently now there were three. One who had just locked the door, the man she recognised from his inspiring speech at the market, and another newcomer seated in a deep leather chair. All of them were wearing black beaked masks – the one in the chairs was slightly different however. His was marked with the golden mark of the cult.

Shivering Felicity waited for someone to speak... She had no idea what to do now. She had brought four people as requested... The silence was maintained for a few oppressive moments longer before the man in the chair spoke. His rich tenor weaving a sensuous element into his words. “Welcome to the house of Obscurvos Felicity Wickes. You have proven yourself a worthy disciple of the glutton god and thus we welcome you under His black wing. Come, take your mask.” One of the helpers offered out a dark mask to the woman. As she lurched forward with tears of joy in her buggy yet sunken eyes he continued. “And you, the waifs and strays that have come to our House’s door for help. Are you willing to join with us, the Glutton God’s followers and urge the world closer to the day of Catalyst? You have stepped into the dark now... Drink up the chaos. There is no way back.” On the battered table in the centre of the room was a cup and at this point the man who had given Felicity her mask once more was spurred into action. Slowly he lifted up the cup and, like some religious goblet, offered it to the first of the people Felicity had gathered. Standing at the front of the collection the homeless man was the first to be given the cup...

He had a strange gleam in his eyes and as she watched on behind her mask Felicity got the feeling that perhaps he was the only one who truly wanted to be there. The drunk woman was out of her mind with drink and the two children look scared. He lifted it to his lips and drank the liquid within, before he could drain too much of the cup the Obscurvian tilted the cup backwards and pulled it away. Around the man’s lips was a black line – it seemed as though he’d drunk ink. Felicity shuddered; glad that she did not have to consume whatever the foul drink was. Next up was the drunk. She quaffed the drink like it was booze, coughing once the cup had been removed. The boy child was up next and, sipping and grimacing at the black liquor he managed to drink it all up – leaving none for his sister.

“What about me?” She snapped, tightening her hold on her bottle and putting a protective hand on the shoulder of her brother... However, before she received a reply something strange was coming over those who had taken liquid from the cup. The homeless man h was swaying unsteadily on his feet and had a vacant look in his eyes, the drunk had finally collapsed, but her eyelids remained open and her pupils were hugely dilated. A sinking feeling of dread overtook the girl and aghast she looked at her sibling’s expression... Yes – he too was drifting into a dazed state. Suddenly, like their muscles had turned to water the two males collapsed to the ground to join in a heap with the partier. Moments later all tree violently convulsed, their eyes rolling back in their sockets whilst their muscles danced to a morbid and sickening tune.

At this Felicity shrieked in horror. What was happening? What had been in the drink to make this happen?! She had promised safety but now this was occurring. The poor girl was horrified. Terrified of what was going to happen to her. Behind the beaked mask Felicity looked to her fellow cult members; was this normal? They seemed to be looking on passively – one was preparing a fresh concoction for the girl. A sinking feeling of regret weighed down the woman as she looked back at the fiery youth... But she had to suppress any guilt. Creating chaos was the only way to bring the Catalyst and secure her rebirth from the Glutton God’s stomach! Removing her rose from a pocket she held it up to her lips and uttered a prayer into it... Detaching herself from the thrashing of bodies on the floor.

However, she could not remain unattached from what was happening because the girl was charging at her. “You said you could help!” she shrieked, raising the bottle to smash it into Felicity. The jilted woman could do nothing, she was paralysed with surprise, but her cult brethren stepped it with startling speed. Before the wiry girl could strike her they were grappling with her and wrenching her arms backwards. The pair of lower cult members soon had her pinned and the girl could only flail forwards cursing Felicity. Pinning between the street urchin and the wall Felicity could not move out of the way.

The series of events that occurred next happened so quickly that the newly accepted Obscurvian could not even cry out in alarm. The seated man rose from his hair, snatched up something from the table and then slunk behind the restrained girl. One flash of metal later and blood was spurting from the street urchin’s neck and the ornate sacrificial dagger in the man’s hand was dripping with her warm life blood. Felicity went weak at the knees as the crimson gush soaked her front. The rose, clasped in her hands was covered in the warm ooze. She wanted to open her mouth and scream but the pure terror – the mind shattering horror – would not let her move a muscle. The only movement about her person was concentrated inside her cupped hands.

The black dew had mixed with the blood of the girl – who’s body had now slumped in the grasp of the cult members – and for some sick reason the mixture was twitching, much like the convulsing bodies on the floor. This moving liquid began to form shapes as the cult members looked on in morbid interest. One spindly black tendril flicks outwards, the end splitting into four defined fingers. Bubbling up from the heart of the rose was more black fluid – covering the petals and making it appear as though Felicity was holding a ball of tar rather than a flower head. Pinpricks of light burst to the surface of the mess; two eyes and a wickedly cruel mouth. Then the pitch substance was solidifying, pulling back over newly formed and warped petals. A hat appeared and leafy feet. Finally, an excitos stood on Felicity’s palm.

On her pure white petal dress was a single bead of red – the only remnant of the wash which had spurred her into birth. Taking her hand she scooped it up, lifted it to her face, sniffed and then, slowly and deliberately, licked the blood up with a thin black tongue. Her mouth twisting into a chaotic grin she addressed the corpse. “Thank you. You taste... delicious.” Before giving into a malicious laugh.

A new caedos had been born.

Claudia’s dwelling place had changed considerably since first arriving. Originally Felicity had offered the flower a place in her own bed, sleeping alongside her like a newly born babe; after all, the caedos was only a few hours old by the time the shocked and traumatised woman had been returned to her home. She had thought that the young girl would need the comfort – but alas, it did not seem that way. The petal garbed plague had quickly dismissed that plan of action. Smiling sweetly to the woman and curling apologetically into her bosom – playing the part of a tender loving creature, rather than one of malice and spite – she had apologized but insisted that the woman’s heavy human breathing would be simply too loud for her to have half a chance of rest... And, with a tremor of false fear in her voice to incite the fragile woman’s sympathy, she had stated that sleeping in such a manner left her at risk of being crushed; A terrible fate that neither she nor Felicity would want to happen so soon after her arrival into the world! Thus, though she claimed that she wanted ever so much to share the warmth of the covers with Felicity, she simply had to find an alternative spot.

Hands still shaking from the trauma of her violent, and rightfully chaotic, entrance into the cult, Felicity had offered the flower the only alternative she could think of – the cupboard in which Claudia had once nestled as a flower; undisturbed and waiting in the dark for the fateful events that had given the spark of life to her tainted body. Instantly Claudia had been overflowing with gratitude! Kisses full of false thankfulness had speckled the Grimm’s cheeks before they had each retired to their now separate sleeping domains. Felicity had been somewhat disheartened that her tender object would not be close at hand... And admittedly Claudia’s first actions and words haunted her terribly that first night. But the black skinned and black hearted femme had felt no such thing and out of sight in the dark enclosure of the wardrobe her glowing features had split into a malice filled smile.

The novelty of being spared the pathetic woman’s company in the small hours of the night quickly wore off as the rose discovered that firstly, the sounds of Felicity’s weeping easily penetrated the thin plywood and secondly that the dried out husks of her siblings and the heavy silken fabric of the wedding dress did little to guard against Shyregoed’s aggressive chill. Like a savage beast the temperature (or rather lack of it) chewed at her extremities and quickly the flower made the woman surrender a blanket or two to insulate the wardrobe and keep her safe. Needless to say the threadbare blankets, faded dress and cheap wood of the wardrobe made for quite an eyesore of a residence for the flower-born girl. She wanted to be in a place fitting of her own prettiness and it seemed her whining only made Felicity feel even worse about herself and cry all the more often! Most frustrating to say the least! Even Alae’s recent visit and subsequent shopping trip had done little to improve the basic attractiveness of her little abode and sitting in the dark wardrobe now – a week or so later – Claudia was thoroughly fed up.

As per usual Felicity was moping around the house somewhere probably feeling sorry for herself and as a result Claudia found a new desire; to explore. Alae had given her a taste of freedom and now with boredom mounting she was going to head out into the outside world and actually learn about her surroundings. No doubt Felicity would be strongly against that though... She displayed morbid concern over Claudia’s safety and thus anything that could result in a crinkled petal of bent leaf was out of bounds. So, before the flower even had to deal with navigating the alien world outside the door she would have to get out of the house – navigating the obvious obstacles all the while avoiding the attention of her human.

Relishing the challenge she exited the wardrobe and bounded across the cold stone floor. Her curled green feet curled tightly against the pain inducing chill of the near freezing slabs and she cursed the house’s lack of insulation. Fortunately it did not take long to cross to the door and when she did she turned her black face up to stare at the barricade. Felicity, the foolish woman, had closed the door and accidently sealed her in the room. Only earlier that day Claudia had given her a good ear bashing on the matter and for good reason, she was fed up and frustrated with constantly having her access to the different areas of the house restricted by the Grimm’s forgetfulness. This obstacle would require a good bit of extra effort and she would make sure that she got her revenge later... Not dilly dallying any longer so that her feet didn’t freeze to the floor or get frostbite she tensed her leaf coated legs readying them for a spring. Underneath the bunched up foliage were more than thick – better described as muscular – legs and thus with a lady-like gasp of exertion she could launch herself into the air. Doing so she managed to clutch hold of the door handle and use her weight to pull the lever down. At this the door clicked open and the flower was granted a narrow but squeezable exit.

Slipping through she made the next leg of her bolt for freedom. She was in the living room area and she could hear the clicking of knitting needles as Felicity sat busily working besides the fire. Her Grimm had come up with the hideous idea of knitting tiny jumpers for her to prevent the bite of the cold from seriously and had since been working on one.. But looking at the repugnant wool being used and the roughly sketched concept drawing Felicity had offered the princess of a plague was not prepared to be seen dead in any creation of the woman! The hobby had however given the woman something to distract herself with and therefore opened a window of opportunity for Claudia.

Obvious crossing the room in silence was key to avoiding detection – the living room thankfully had wooden floorboards which kept heat slightly better and so long as she trod quietly she could avoid making any noise at all. Being quiet did not prove to be the difficult part though. The door onto the street was obviously closed and to conserve the heat cast by the fire all the windows were tightly fastened; keeping out the bitterly cold wind. The only route that led to a successful exit was the rusty metal letter box. It would squeak in protest and then as soon as she got through she would have to get away as fast as her little legs could carry her and out of sight just in case Felicity came to investigate..

Repeating the same peculiar feat as before Claudia bounced up to the letterbox. It was fortunately set into the thick wood of the door (all houses in Sheyrgoed had thick front doors to keep out the worst of the cold) providing her with a ledge to clamber onto. Perched precariously the plague used her spindly black fingers to pry open the flap. It squawked indignantly at her abuse – it hadn’t been used in a long time thanks to Felicity’s cut off from the outside world – but as quick as a flash her heavy hated head had bowed through and she was leaping into the freezing cold outside! However, rather than tumbling straight down into the street, her petal skirt inflated beneath her like an umbrella and thanks to her light frame she was kept afloat long enough to gently glide to a dainty landing a few metres away from the doorstep. With this good head start the flower cackled with amusement – away! Exploring time!

Making her way down the first road was exciting. The exhilaration of being out on her own, defying her useless Grimm smothered her sensitivity to cold and fed the furnace of her evil little grin. The following road, in which some falling snow peppered the cobblestones, was less enjoyable but still the minute figure pressed on. She had seen all of this already from the high viewpoint of Alae’s shoulder! There was nothing of interest; the wafts of the scent of food from the occasional brightly lit house didn’t tempt the excitos into investigating them, neither did it make her tiny stomach rumble. In fact, the scent (barely noticeable to any human nose) of death and decay oozing out of plague marked houses, with the curled scrawl of infection on the doorway, served as a more delectable miasma by far to the chaos bound girl.

By the fifth street, which opened out into a near deserted marketplace – all stalls dismantled and shut up thanks to the passing time and tumultuous clouds above – she was clearly showing signs of her intolerance to the town’s perpetually poor weather. Her impish giggles of glee had been replaced by a mean looking frown and her jaunty skips of success were reduced to a begrudging step by step advance over the freezing stone floor of the market. A single cart, horse and driver like charcoal sketches shuffling against the monochrome bleakness of the setting, marked the only point of interest potentially worthy of her vexing and troublesome journey. Yet even they seemed about to depart to find a warmer place to shelter from the oncoming storm.

Without further a due the miniature being made a last fervent dash across to the cart and managed to scramble up into it. Here she could ride... Like a princess and survey her kingdom in comfort.... Little did she know that the cart was heading out of town. She didn’t even suspect that as the freezing winds whipped up she would be at risk of being blustered around in the back of the cart! Never did it cross her mind that only half an hour later, somewhere in the frozen forests of Shyregoed she would tumble out of the cart and into a snow drift.... Perilously close to a freezing cold death!

“We’re moving.”

The rose’s voice stung the woman as though it had been a thorn pricking her skin rather than a statement.

“We’re moving because this place… This iced over hell is too much to bear any longer.” The plague was perched upon the mantelpiece – much like how she had been positioned in Seymour’s house only a handful of cold hours earlier – and she was marching up and down its length letting off her barrage of angry words mercilessly. “I don’t care that you’ve lived here all your life. It’s miserable and maybe that’s why you’re such a stick thin miserable woman.” These words stung dreadfully, the thorn was digging in and some malicious spirit was twisting it deeper – drawing blood in the form of tears wobbling with outrage and sorrow in the Grimm’s eyes. “But I’m not like you! I won’t live my life in the shadow of your miseries. Take me south! You know that the House will take us. They’ll embrace us with open arms Felicity. Don’t you see it? The glutton god smiles upon you – he sees the chaos that rages in your life and the only way that you can rid yourself of it, cleanse your body of those terrible feelings is by going to him; offering everything you own and being consumed. With faith you will be reborn cleansed after the catalyst!”

Parading along the thin strip of dusty wood the caedos was working herself up into a religious fury; her own desires to rid herself of this wretched environment mixed with her passionate beliefs that she had been born into. “Why do you think that I was born from that rose? I am here to be your guidance – to help you make the right decisions. I am a child of Obscuvos. Yes… But I also belong to you – just as much as you belong to me.” Here she was lying… The thought of this woman, weak and barely able to stand up after the verbal blows she had struck, being her owner was repulsive. But the little creature was clever. She could be the emotions flashing behind the lenses of those sunken eyes. This was the way that she could manipulate the worn out woman; by feigning some sort of emotional affection, tugging on the strings of the lost romance that the spindly human clung to despite the fact that they were decayed and withered like a plant deprived on water for too long.

Felicity had never informed her of the details of her relationship but it hadn’t taken much effort to collect the scattered details of her cracked mind and get a good idea of the circumstances. She kept the decaying bouquet and crumpled dress of what had supposed to have been her wedding day close at hand for heaven’s sake!

“It’s bad for me here… I cannot venture outside without the risk of the chill winds nipping my life away.” She paused her strutting to now look directly at the human woman, imploring her to ‘see sense’ and submit to her desires. “Today I nearly died…” A tear trickled down the haggard female’s cheek and guilt contorted her mouth into a silent apology despite the fact that the flower had been the one at fault. “Do this for me… The House are more than willing my Grimm… You know that they are our family. Like children guided through the streets they’ll take our hand and carefully, tenderly, move us to a safer haven… I’ve not seen the world but I’ve heard that the beating heart of our faction is within a land warm enough for plants to flourish all year round. Allow me to bloom Felicity…”

Shuddering, the fragile femme rose from the battered furniture and crossed the cold expanse to take the miniature being in quivering hands. Claudia did not object, though the weakness of her Grimm disgusted her she needed to play this role carefully. Felicity’s thin fingers traced over the petals like fine quite velvet and pulled her close, to her breast. The plague was held tightly against that bony plane and the two remained in this embrace for moments that seemed to require a lifetime of anticipation. The woman was considering the proposition raised by Claudia; weighing up the needs of her beloved little rose, the last trace of her lover’s affection, against her own selfish need for safety.

She had spent her whole life within the monochromatic safety of the snow against the stone of Sherygoed’s buildings… Could she brave the rest of the world? The idea frightened her, but when it boiled down to it the thought of losing that precious white rose scared her even more. The plague had assumed correctly – even though all hope was lost Felicity was still madly in love and could not let go. She could never let go. It was as if by jilting her at the alter that cruel yet lovely man had suspended her in limbo; never able to advance into the joys of married life, yet forever denied the comfort of a loveless yet comfortable existence. Even if it meant moving from the house they had planned to live in together, foster children in together, grow old in together… She had to save Claudia.

A twisted trace of his love.