[ P ] • wicked, wasting garden

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

The bite of the air tasted foreign, alive with scents still unfamiliar to his nose. They had come to this strange land only a matter of weeks ago. The highlands. Undertaking the journey had been a matter of necessity. In the end, there were few choices but to leave. Kazgut did not mourn a lost nationality, a lost homeland - these things had never touched his identity. Vyette is here. His eyes traced the distance back to the dilapidated cottage. As long as Vyette was here, he was home.

Home. Strange straits they found themselves in. The cottage sat on the edge of a great wood. Weathered, it had; four (mostly intact) walls crawling with moss and ivies, most of a roof, and a broken length of fence that created a ring about their new den. The garden was wild, overgrown with unfamiliar plants. Kazgut sat, eyes set onto the forest and the deep, shifting shadows. A warm wind from the east stirred the leaves. Morning cast everything in sharp relief and he waited; waiting for dawn to wash over him fully.

There would be graves to dig in the afternoon, when the heat of the day slowly drained from the churning soil. For now, there was only sunlight. Eyes slowly closed, ears flickering at the sounds of the voices of the trees. Black pelt shimmered. Soon, it would be too warm for this small enjoyment and he would retreat into the cool of the shade.

The village lay beyond his back - flung far from the cottage, nestled out of sight now beyond hill and tree. Eventually, a path would be worn from there to here. He enjoyed the wild thought of lostness until then. Lost? Found.

---

@Vyette

Have you experienced
any strange dreams?

He’d scouted the cottage as she’d hidden in the forest — he’d always precede her in uncharted territory, cutting a safe route for her, them to forge ahead. Although his “excitement” when he’d returned to her was indistinguishable from his usual features (to all but her), her heart thrummed. He’d found a place she’d only dreamed of, and they both knew it.

Oh, how her heart soared as she explored their new home for the first time! She flittered between each of the plants, identifying the ones she could and making note of the ones she couldn’t. This flittering was something she’d do every day, several times a day, and it was what she was doing just then. Her fur snagged against the brambles of the far corner of the garden as a curious nose tilled the soil, careful of sproutlings.

“I wonder if we could find that pretty flower we came across on our way here. Do you remember?” She called out to him, unsure if he was near enough to hear her or not. He was. He always was. Wasn’t he? Regardless, she continued to muse aloud. “I think it was red. Or was it purple? This would be such a lovely spot for them.” In truth, there’d been several flowers and herbs and trees and even rocks that she’d commented on during their journey. Only she knew which one she was referring to, and even that was questionable.

“Or I wonder if someone nearby sells seeds. Although, it’d be cheaper to propagate ourselves.” She liked the idea of being self-sustaining… “But I suppose being a part of the economy would help our social standing.” The distaste in her voice was palpable then, words almost mocking. She shifted her attention to a bush, pruning with her fangs. “Do we even have anything worth bartering? What do you suppose they’d trade for?”

There were few things the hedgewitch valued, and fewer still that she’d be inclined to barter.

---

@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

As eyes remained closed, other senses sharpened. The sounds of the forest (wind, rustling and the silverline smells of the trees) dulled until negligible. Fluttering movement replaced all else. It was the familiar flinting of the wraith. Vyette milling about the garden was distinct. To Kazgut, all she did took precedence in mind. Silently, he tracked her. The soft pad of foot to soil, the subtle inquisitive breath as she leaned to inspect a particular herb or plant. Wind caressed off the silk of her fur - lifting, falling. When her words began to weave their spell, own eyes opened.

Hidden smile was gifted, shared internally. Vyette was rambling, musing, reciting her thoughts for them both. Kazgut did not know of which flower she was referring for there had been many. I will bring her whatever she wishes. Red or purple, it mattered not. Hunting would take him deep into the glens and there, he would lead her. Until she can recite them all. It was a comforting thought. The grim stood just as she changed topic of conversation. This time, he internally scoffed - frowned - social standing. What did the wolves of this place value?

Moving, then, Kazgut stood. Despite size, he moved silently and with great deliberance. Overhead, the sunshine burned. Summer was new upon the land. Without thought, he made for her, steps purposeful in this. Measuring the distance, eyes sought her form. Lightly, they flinted over her there as she tended to the bushes with precise teeth. Dirt clung to the silk whiteness of her legs. Twigs, leaves - weeds - delicately hinged between teeth. Her eyes shone. They sparked with life, with curiosity. That makes it worth the rest.

”Anything that will bring death,” Kazgut answered her question somberly. In the village there were always graves to be dug. The shuck knew little about the politics of this place save what had been heard in snatches whilst he worked. Concepts such as royalty, imperialism - they held little weight yet. He knew soon they would, once experience began to shine light upon ignorance.

He meant the words, of course. The wolves of this land knew blood, knew flesh - fighting, fatalism - all of it. This did not surprise him. This was a constant no matter how far they journeyed. Seas did not change the nature of a wolf. Those of this land would pay all they could do get an advantage over another, to ensure it was not they that ended up belonging again to the earth.

Not before their enemies, anyway. Kazgut watched Vyette, waiting for her to complete his thoughts.

---

@Vyette

Have you experienced
any strange dreams?

The wraith stilled as he spoke. Every word her shadow uttered was cherished, for they were few. His words were sweet treats to her, but she found humour in this reply in particular. She bit her tongue, stifling a laugh. She wasn’t entirely successful, a short snicker evolving into a soft outburst of giggles.

Then she paused, mused over his words once more. He was right. She nodded, slowly. “Death is good for business,” she cooed, contemplating various poisonous elixirs she could concoct. And the remedies? Those could be bartered for twice the worth of their counterpart. She returned to her pruning, her plucking and pulling, mind weaving together threads of a scheme.

She impressed herself with her plan, but the whole thing sounded quite tiresome. And peddling poisons… that was something that could lead them back into dire circumstances. She’d be better off gaining their trust by providing them with healing elixirs… at a price, of course. “We’ll just propagate our own, I’ve decided. It isn’t worth the hassle.”

But she continued to consider the scheme. Poisons could be quite valuable, but they’d have to find the right wolf to trade with…

---

@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Chimes in the wind, rustle of breeze in the fall boughs; the midnight blooming of the nightshades that used to creep along the cemetery wall - all images brought to mind by the sound of Vyette in laughter. Kazgut cherished the sound. The angels were in the details - the way that features in her face shifted and those dark (void-sighted) eyes brightened. He would do anything to make her laugh. She knew this, surely. Every detail was committed to memory; such as it had been a thousand times and a thousand more.

Death was their business and business was always booming. Between the living and the dead they stood, each tending to their work. Kazgut observed her motions, following her train of thought as she sought to the garden that wound wickedly about them. Drawing little attention to themselves would allow them to flourish in this place. Participating in this community and its civilized ways would bring peace. Are we seekers of peace?

Steps were taken, soundlessly, leading the black shuck to his place at her side. Softly, muzzle pressed at her cheek - gently, briefly - for she knew that he would follow her wherever such path led them. If Vyette wished to be only then a healer, a seller of cures - his support was absolute. It always was.

Whisper of breath was left against her fur as Kazgut turned, moving wordlessly to the cottage. A basket sat near the low-slung entry way that constituted a backdoor. Muzzle dipped, plucking the woven basket that sat there. He carried it back to the wraith.

The forest would provide.

---

@Vyette

Have you experienced
any strange dreams?

While tending to her plants gave the wraith solace, nothing quite settled her as her shadow. His soft touch to her cheek quieted her mind and she felt at peace. Eyelids fluttered closed and she inhaled deeply, savouring the moment. And then he was gone. She exhaled, but a small smile remained. She knew he would not venture far, and that he would always return to her.

Nose dipped back into the bush she’d been tending to, plucking a few more dead leaves from it’s core. It was doing quite well and would be flowering soon, she thought to herself. The garden had flourished even without her aide, and here she was simply speeding up nature’s course. She prided herself on their home, despite the small time they’d lived there.

Perhaps that was why she was so very intent on treading lightly. She knew home was with him, but she’d grown fond of this garden. Even as he returned with the basket and tempted her with a foraging expedition, she sighed wistfully at the thought of leaving. But a grin spread, and she realised the smile he’d left her with had never faded. She pressed her own dirt-covered snout against his cheek, wiping it there before grabbing the basket away from him.

She’d always go, with him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

With the basket in her jaws, she bounded forward, towards the forest. She’d only move so far before turning back, stopping to wait for him.

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

There had been places before here, before now. Blurring together in his memory, they ran like ink from old parchment. Those places were but map dots connected by threads of red string (blood trailing behind them as a testament to deeds). Few of these spaces had felt half so welcoming as this. Kazgut found himself growing fond of the way the wraith existed here. Brightening in the garden, fluttering in the cottage; busy, all moth motion and ghosting grace. She sought the worms beneath the rocks and serenaded the spiders in their webs. Here, she shone precious quartz and moonstone. Here, her smile softened her.

Warmth bloomed in his chest at the touch of her dirt-sooted mouth. Laughter rumbled like gravel poured from throat at the sight of her bounding away. Vyette moved with supple lightness - a cascade of soft spider silk. Kazgut immediately moved to follow her - for he was captivated always by her spell upon him. Haloed in sunlight at the edge of the wood, she was beauty incarnate.

Stepping into the shadows, the grim moved with purpose. Reaching only to teasingly tug at the tresses of her tail, he gave her a private smile (only for her, to be sure). Nose raised and Kazgut took up point - leading her along the path spun by smells of auburn and lilac. The forest hummed about them, soon obscuring all sign of the cottage.

Scents brightened upon him as his nose touched the breeze, the rocks, the trunks of trees - mushrooms, hidden; lavender growing somewhere in the full sun. Kazgut took care to keep Vyette downwind of these smells; for he would quickly become distracted in the sweetness of her.

---

@Vyette

Have you experienced
any strange dreams?

The hedgewitch only cared to recall life with the gravedigger, before they’d even thought of such professions. Anything before him wasn’t worth her recollection and truly nothing would exist after him — them. Moments like these would replay in her mind for years to come, surely. This is where she felt she was her truest self, hidden away in the deep of the wood with him.

She buried her face into his shoulder, blindly allowing him to lead her. She inhaled him, reveled in the thick of his black pelt. She did her best to linger beside him for as long as she could, but she was quickly lured away by some curious flora.

The wraith dropped her basket and began to ever so sweetly pluck a few delicate yellow flowers very near to the roots before slinking over to a patch of red clover, doing the same there.

Curious eyes held Kazgut intermittently. “Should we find a water source? I’d love some fresh lilies.” Previous thoughts of her scheme returned as she wondered if any bog-rosemary would be near...

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Warmth was missed once lost. Forms parted, the hedgewitch lured to the strange flora (curiosities endless); and the gravedigger committed to the familiar. The lavender grew in a purple haze of sunlight, thick and havenbound. Delicately teeth severed at the base of the stems, as was taught. He took only enough for their purpose. A heavy, drowsy aroma stirred the air. Kazgut retraced steps quickly to the basket. There it was placed to the side - to be arranged as best suited Vyette's more exotic choosings.

Kazgut took brief notice of the yellow flowers and red tributes, eyes drawn to the form of the wraith plucking away there in the underbrush. At mention of water - head raised, statuesque - and a nod was given.

"Nearby," both the water source and the lilies, he assured.

Pausing to allow Vyette to finish her current fixation, Kazgut then lead the way through the quivering pines. Crossing a shallow stream smelling of cool sweetness, the grim led the wraith to a small, stagnant pond. Lilies spread about its surface, softly beginning to bloom.

---

@Vyette

Have you experienced
any strange dreams?

She quickly arranged her pickings, admiring the sprigs her shadow had found. She’d taught him well, something she took great pride in — both her ability to teach him and his own interest and ability (and want) to learn. She felt so very special, because of him. With their findings sorted in the woven basket, then picked it up again and padded after him gently.

As they walked along, she playfully bumped against him. She did so softly, gently. Not because she feared harming him (oh! He loomed over her, an unwavering pillar of smoke and soot, unbreakable), but because she did not want to spill their spoils.

That carefulness was cast away as the pond came into view. Eyes lit up and she bounded towards the water, careful to slow as she approached. She didn’t want to scare away any potential fish, eyes excitedly searching for a flash of fin and scale. Turning to set the basked down, she offered the shuck a wide smile. “It’s beautiful here.”