Sylvie was a complicated creature. Crafty, conniving, and chronically angry, she had ultimately failed in her longstanding quest to (discreetly) murder (or even lightly maim, she wasn't picky) Amaranth's children - all eight of the little fleabag shits. There was a part of her that refused to believe they shared any blood with Amaranth at all, given how variously hideous and cognitively impaired the lot of them were.
Surely they all belonged to Valeska.
Perhaps... perhaps. Is it possible she could plant a seed of doubt? A rumor of a rumor from someone, that they had seen Valeska shagging a stranger - for the matter of those tree pups, they could have easily been offloaded by a single parent who didn't care to stick around.
She wouldn't have blamed them herself. Gods - just look at those three.
Yes; Sylvie was a complex mind, but she was also a bird.
A simple, stupid bird.
The light was irresistible.
She hopped into it without a second thought, associating such brilliance with other bright lovely things like gemstones and quartz and her own radiant feathers catching in the warmth of the summer sun. It was beautiful, and so was she. It made sense.
The little raven suddenly found herself in the middle of a terrible downpour. Dark skies thundered ominously overhead, and lightning flashed against the clouds like fireworks; she recognized this place, but couldn't quite place it until -
The tree.
It was the tree she had fallen from as a fledgling, where Amaranth had found her and taken her in.
Her happiest memory, and it was a fucking thunderstorm.
Sylvie scowled.
Where had the beautiful light gone? Even as the threads of joy tugged at her heartstrings, beckoning her to embrace the memory (in spite of current weather conditions), she still felt thoroughly inconvenienced as she hopped through the tall grasses toward her old tree.
Surely they all belonged to Valeska.
Perhaps... perhaps. Is it possible she could plant a seed of doubt? A rumor of a rumor from someone, that they had seen Valeska shagging a stranger - for the matter of those tree pups, they could have easily been offloaded by a single parent who didn't care to stick around.
She wouldn't have blamed them herself. Gods - just look at those three.
Yes; Sylvie was a complex mind, but she was also a bird.
A simple, stupid bird.
The light was irresistible.
She hopped into it without a second thought, associating such brilliance with other bright lovely things like gemstones and quartz and her own radiant feathers catching in the warmth of the summer sun. It was beautiful, and so was she. It made sense.
The little raven suddenly found herself in the middle of a terrible downpour. Dark skies thundered ominously overhead, and lightning flashed against the clouds like fireworks; she recognized this place, but couldn't quite place it until -
The tree.
It was the tree she had fallen from as a fledgling, where Amaranth had found her and taken her in.
Her happiest memory, and it was a fucking thunderstorm.
Sylvie scowled.
Where had the beautiful light gone? Even as the threads of joy tugged at her heartstrings, beckoning her to embrace the memory (in spite of current weather conditions), she still felt thoroughly inconvenienced as she hopped through the tall grasses toward her old tree.
