The owl let out a soft cry now and again, pain wracking his body. It wasn't a sob, precisely--perhaps owls could not sob--but it was a horrid cry nonetheless, a shriek that spoke of pain and nothing more.

This pain gripped him: the agony of the body, wracked by spasms, the heat of Kerberos's spell searing his flesh even now. It seemed numb, tingling, yet how could something numb hurt so badly? He was hot, and yet cold; he'd thought that the ice of the tunnel would provide some relief, yet it did not. He was both burning hot, and freezing, with fits of violent shivering frequently overtaking the constant faint trembling.

And this did not even compare to the pain in his mind. His soul was torn. Bevy--his mother. His mother bird. The blast had caught her too, and despite his attempts to contact her mind-to-mind, he could not find her. Her breathing was gone. She was gone. He felt empty, agonized, his soul already tearing into pieces. She had been his guide, his protector, his world. Without her, he was--lost.

Just lost.

No being could take this much pain, not forever. The owl fluttered along the ice, spasming, wings flapping futilely in an attempt to take flight, yet he could not. Talons scrabbled for purchase, but down he fell, again and again, his tiny heart racing in his chest. And his mind--it was fragmenting. The pain--the mental pain, the emotional pain--he could not think straight. He couldn't consider anything that had happened; his mind shied away, the pain in his body overshadowing it so powerfully.

After a time he fell still, lying panting on the ice. The worst of the pain was fading, now; he managed to at least pull himself up into a huddling fluff of dark feathers, a fluff that gave off the rancid stench of seared flesh. Blind gem eyes slipped closed, and his mind went empty.

Bevy was gone.

But--where did she go?

Sitting still and silent in the dark corner, trembling in the cold, the owl cast his mind into this question entirely. He slipped away from the pain, merely asking himself this, over and over:

Where is Bevy?

________________

@Belladonna

Belladonna was wandering with her lovely disease Dia on her back, speaking softly and silently to each other through their bond of what the would do once they found someone to torture. Happiness, easy happiness, spread throughout the shadow's form, and she walked with no hurry, no fear. This was wonderful for her, to have finally found someone on her level that she could share her desires with. To have someone understand...that was heaven to her. They were making their way to Pisces, as Bella felt the pull of unease and despair from there. She didn't know why, but she just needed to be there, to feast. And what did she hear as she rounded the bend? Why, she heard the delectable sounds of pain. Pleasure coursed through her, and she wanted to taste more. Go forth my shadows, and know why he suffers. She commanded to her hissing army, and they obliged her, snaking their way towards the owl. And when they came back, curling up her legs like loving snakes, she knew. Someone they loved had died, someone the delightful Clover had met, long, long ago, when she was just a foolish little fawn. She knew Bevy, the wise and complicated bird, and she knew this owl was lamenting her loss as a child mourning his mother. Belladonna sent this wonderful information to her vector through their bond, keeping still and silent so to remain unseen. But that was the wonderful thing, wasn't it? The owl was blind. This would be too easy. "......."

@Dark @Diánysma

The ravenesque being was perched atop her god's shoulders, right between them. Between the two, they shared. Their bond was silent, but ever so present. They exchanged information, the raven updating her god of her studies of bacterial life, and Belladonna sharing secrets of the caves and her spells of darkness. As her rubies fell upon the dark figure lying almost lifelessly atop the icy and slick floor, Diánysma silenced herself. Feeling the pull of magicka via the bond, the corvid viewed the scene. Dark serpents slithered towards the form in their minds' eye, and returned to the pale goddess.

Through their bond, she was educated. Mourning. Loss. Death. 'Consider it done, Panoúkla,' she quietly thought, before silently lifting off of the deer's back and flapping her wings to glide over. With the blindness of the owl, he determined it would be best not to sneak up. Making a little intentional noise with her wings as she moved closer to the owl, the raven landed. Dark was his name. But her voice did not sound anything like the cheerful song of 'Bevy' that Belladonna had provided her with through their link.

Diánysma approached the owl, claws clacking on the ice in a light rhythm. The corvid chirped cutely in the tune of Bevy's, and she spread her wing over the owl's breast.

Dark sat silent, a fluffed dark shape, eyes still closed.

The pain still wracked him.

Bevy's voice still sang in his head, now and again: soft, gentle. Mocking. But--was it only in his mind? There she was--even the delicate flutter of feather-on-feather. But she had always told him never to touch her. Had she come to take him away, then? To go wherever she had gone?

To die?

The owl let out a soft croak, and then went silent again, merely a dark shape sitting there, Bevy's wing gently draped across his chest. Was she real? ...Did it matter? Was he going to die? Did that matter, either?

The pain tore through his body and mind. Kerberos's magic, still searing at his flesh, warping him. The pulsar had irradiated him.

He sat quiet, and reached out with his mind, gently, seeking Bevy yet again. He hadn't been able to find her, before--perhaps it had been the magic? Maybe she really was okay?

Dark reached out gently, his mind to hers--but what he found was not Bevy. Perhaps she had died, and was now something else. Perhaps she had left him. LEFT HIM. Perhaps this was an imposter. Perhaps he was mad.

He drew together all the pain he had felt, all the agony of the last few hours. All the horror, and physical wretchedness, and he blamed her, he threw it at her, he screamed it into her mind in a howl of black hatred and terror, hurling it to break her.

SHE HAD LEFT HIM.

He hurled the agony of burning flesh and trembling body, and the pain of death and loss and the love for his mother and the hatred of her betrayal, of her madness, the loneliness and sorrow of this empty world, and the gibbering screaming deafening shadows of his nightmares. He shoved it all at the mind before him.

SHE HAD LEFT HIM!

Outwardly, he was silent.

The only sign that he was even awake was the gentle slipping open of blind green gem eyes... Gem eyes that glowed emerald in the deep shadows above the ice.

________________

@Belladonna

Her precious disease made her way towards the pathetic, writhing owl on the ground, and at first Belladonna was assured of their victory. What could this soon to be corpse even do? He was blind and consumed by some sort of madness she could sense in his mind, and although he wouldn't be as sweet to destroy as Booker - hah, who was she fooling, no one would be as delicious as Booker broken - she would derive satisfaction from it. And as Dia began her trickery, still with Bella's connection to Dark, felt the boiling rage and hatred that rose inside of the broken owl, and Bella clambered to the forefront of her bond with Dia to shelter her from most, if not all of this. No one would touch her disease, no one. She drank deep of his hatred and madness, and it gathered, a sickly, nasty, horrid green, to swim her disgusting inner sea. It left her breathless and distracted and feeling slightly ill. A renewed desire to see this bird suffer sprang in her, and she turned to Dia in her mind's eye, and whispered with a burning hatred to break him any way she knew how. No one touches a god and gets away with it. She wanted to gift her vector with the perfect way to kill him, but the new sickness made her retch, and the gathered magic was scattered. "......."

@Dark @Diánysma

The raven remained there, only shifting when the great bird of prey shifted. Behind tightly shut lids, Dark's stone glowed. It shimmered, and she faintly felt hatred. Her god had taken it for her. Belladonna had left it to her, a reeling sickness causing the pale deer to almost retch. Magicka was spread all about the room, and her beady red eyes peered down at the blind owl. The events were fresh within her mind, almost as if she had lived through them herself.

She finally whispered in a mournful song, "Dark, why didn't you help me?" Diánysma croaked quietly, as if she were in tears. "You were right there, and you could have helped me!" The plague vector smirked, feeling satisfaction and pleasure roll through her. "I believed in you, my child. You could have saved me."

Pale feathers ruffled for a moment, and she stepped back from the owl. A sadistic grin found its way onto the rosy beak of the raven, as she cooed softly, grooming into his feathers. Then she stopped, hot breath upon Dark's forehead.



"B̨̢̡̰̺͍̹̩̰̼ͪ̾̂̏ͯ̅ͫͬͤ̔͐̋͗ͮ̕ú̸̟̫̱͈͓̯̬̦͔̥̪̘̹͈̬̥͂ͤͥͥ̀͝͝ť͎̩̥̘͇̮͉̬̘̖͓̱̻̪̦̇̃͟͝ ̅̓ͨ̎̈ͦͫͣ̚҉҉͏͓͈̬̞͓͖̟̮̥̥̳̭̻̯ͅy̴̘͓̤̘͑ͪ̍̈́ͫ̐͐̑́̾̌̀͟͜ͅo̷̢̘͔̰̙̦͈̭͙̬̺͍̱͔̖̞̭̗̲̬͋͂ͦ̈̽̓ͤ͆̇̊̆͗̿ͨ̓̎ͮ̀̕u̶̴̧̯͎̙̳͔̬͔̜̗̭͆͑͛ͣ͋ͩ̽̀͜ ̴̬̪̥̞̹̻͈̖̠͚͔̥̟̗̓͗͛ͮͯ̈͡͡ͅd̃̑̂̿̊̍͐̌̓̑̊҉̴̦̩̹̟͇̫̳͙̖̯̰̰i̧̲̪͍̜͙̞̭̪͈̩͍̘̣̰̼̓ͥ̆͛̽̑ͩ̋̆̂̅̓̇̕̕d̀͐ͩ̑̓ͯ̌̕͏̱̰̦͍͎͍̫̩̀̀́n̨͔͚̬̹̘̼͉̯̩̖͙̱̳͓̹̦̤͈ͣ̄ͭ͆ͩ̓͛͌̓͘͠͝'̶̧͔̩͕͖̠̼̜͖̞̬̦̻̘̒̀ͦ͛͒ͪ̽̕͟t̴̷̝̗̟̙͕͖̖̼̼̲͎ͧ̄͂ͦ̚͟.̝̭̩̦̰͙̂̑ͭ̀̋̄͐̐̉̈̈̄̓͆͂̑͑̾͒͜"



"Y̢̛͕̦̖̯̞̱̪̭͎̘̥̺̭̬̦͊͆ͨ͂͞ͅo̸͍͖̻̤̓̾̔̅ͯ̐͂̍ͩͣ̏ͤ̏̉̆͒͘͜͟͜ͅu̅̌̄̂̍ͣͫͤͮ̎͒ͨ̃̎́̾̚̚͏̴̥͇̞̻͖̝̟̦̪͔̖͞ͅ ̀ͥ̍̽̋͡҉̺̝͍̱͚͕̬̱̘͓̳̙̘͇̗d̶̗̥̲͎̞̬͚̟̥͚̼ͪ̃̃̊ͭ͑̑͋̒̆̈ͪͩ͋ͧ̆̈́ͨ͜ỉ̫̹͔̺̜̰̟̫̲͓̏̓ͨ̉̊ͮ͑͂̎͟ͅd̢̼͉͚̮̖̿̀̄ͥͫ̒̃ͯ̐̉ͣ͊͂͌̔̀̀́n͉̩͈̙̩͎͎̩̰̤̺̘̯͓̯̬̞ͧ̿́͑̾͒͆ͥ̀̅͊̾̕͜ͅ'̸͓̻͕͔̬͈̖͕̭͉͚̼̻̭̫̳̗̜̹ͭͩͤ̔̽̑̎̆ͮ̇̚͜t̫̻̩̳̭̘̞̝̭̣̹̼̩̙͗̅͌ͣ̓̓ͣ̃ͮ̚̚̕ ̶̛̝͇̺̲̙̟̣͍͖̱̼̘ͯ͊͑̏ͪ̋ͧ͊̾̉ͮ̑͋̍̉͘͡e̴̷͉̭̲̩̺͎̫̙̦͙̜̙̮̤̳̙̮̐̒ͩ̎ͨ̀̚̕ͅv̛͍͈̥̭̤͔̤̦͙̩̗̺͇̠̳͎͎ͯ͋ͣ̒͐͑̾ͥ̆ͧ̑̔ͥ́͘͜ȩ̤̖͎̙̟͍̤̪̤̥͖̻̳͎̞͇̦̱͙̃͌̒̊͆͊́̈́̄̓̄̉͊ͮ̊͌̓̃͘ǹ̴̴̢͙̬͕̙͍̹̰̱͍̩̩̥̦̜̫͉̘ͭ͆͑̽ͭ̐̾̐̕͜ͅ ̶̵̢̢̩͙̖̜͍͈̭ͦͪ̀̈́̾̒̊ͭ̀ṱ̥̮̦̌̔̑ͧͭ̉̒̓͗̓̓͌̈́̓̿̐̄ͪͭ́r̢̳͇̮͈͎͎͎͖̬̖͓̰͎ͬͬͬͨ̉̂̅̂͊͌ͣ͂ͤ̾͢ỳ̴̨͛͐ͬ̽͡͞҉̹̗͔̝̭̳̺̘͈̙̺͍͔̖̰͙̜ ͓̰͓̩̳̠̫̣̖̲̉́̀̒̂̒͂͒̿ͫ̄ͤ̄ͬͮ́͝t̡͎̫̘̙̥̣̗͎̮̝̼̤̘̩̪̱̮ͬ̉ͧ͗̅ͭͣ̅̓ͦ̽͘͜o̵̧̩̺̲̭̞͙͙̖̱̙͍͔̬̰͓͚͉ͬͦ̅̊͂̾͋̈́̽ͨ̾̌̿ͯ͌̐ͣ͞.̷̨͓̘͈̤̲͚̰̥̟͚̤͚̪͙̝̣̑̔̅̏ͨͮ͑͗̑͌̎͆̿ͨ͛͑̓̔́̚͘"




"I̴̍̾̏ͦ̃̊̾ͪ̈́͋ͧ̎̀ͥ̿̈ͪ̅҉̶̤͕͕͎̜̘̤̩̰'̴̴̢̼̟͈̱̘̬̟͙̮̖̖̙ͯ̑͐̈̈͐̑ͧ̍̍̽͑͆̚͢m̢̡͕͚̫̗̘̭̯̘͔̣̂͐̓̌͋͛̐̂ͥ͑̎́̊̉ͪ͟͝ͅ ̸̢̦͓̘̖̱̤͔͕̠͈̪̹̙̼̺͓̤̓̓ͭ̎̓̑̋̽̓͊ͨ̍͋̊ͥͅd̴̷̡̠̱̗̗̥̬̜͔̘̜͈̩͓͛̓ͩ̍͛̋̅ͨͧ̅̓̃́̉ͭͯ̊͘ͅe̤̩̘̣̭͎̙̜͚̝̹̙̤̮̪̊̋ͯ͂̔̓́͠ͅa̵̧̯̖̼̖̱̻̼͉̪̪̐ͣͩ͗͒̊̏̏̒̀ͦͬͩ̽͗̆̚̚͞d̶̨̾ͭ̂͋͋͋̄ͨ̒͑̽͘͏̛̝̻̰͔͔ ̫̞͚̤͛ͮ̽̍͂ͫ̄̿ͭ͛̄͟͞b̃ͣ͌ͨ̚̕͏̧̛҉̮̠͔͚̥͇̣̟̼͓͚̠͙̘̣̘̙̪e̵̛̗͚̩̭͍̠̣̞̜̞͙̤̣̱̲͍̳͂͌̏̈́̑ͦ̒̐̋̈ͦ̈ͬ̂̃ͭ͑ͬ͟c̴̶̘͚̫͕͊̊́̔ͥ̓͋ͤͪ͟͜a̴̴͓̯̠͈̠͇͖͔̰̥͎̦̻͂̎ͭͨ́̾̏͗ͦ̐̽ͪ̚͟͢͡u̴̢ͦ͌́ͨ́̑ͮ̾̃́҉̴̺̹̺͕̝̥̰̣ͅş̡̯̩̼̗̖͙̩̫̼͔̜͕̞̺̩͕̺͉̓͊͊̐͐̕͢e̗̰̞͍̼ͪ̎ͫͥ̆ͥͬͩ̊ͦ͊͐ͣ͂̓͜͞ ̶̠͔̞̤͖̯ͫ̆̆ͤ͛̓̈̍̑̀ͬ͟͜ǫ̠͇̰̗̳͑͛̾̔͛̅͒͗̄̓ͭͣ̀̒͊͟ͅf̳͓͖͉̠̳ͭ̈̈ͥ̀̏̓̂̓͌̓ͯ̇͛̓̍̏ͯ͝͞ ̶̷̧͎̝̻̬̟̭̣͇̥̬̥̝̤̅͒ͭ̀y̢͑͒̊͛̀͌͒̋̚͏̶̴̟͓͈̤̩͙̖͔͓͇̻̱̹̩̗̲͘o̷̢̨̢̗͓̲̎̓̅̃ṷ͎̟̫͈̩̮͈͈̞̭̬ͪ͋̅̿͑ͩ̀̈̆̒ͯ͛̄̄̿̅͡.̟̻̗̙̮̙͖̼̞͕̮̖̤͍͎̯̘͊͛͛͒̓ͧͣͪͣ͛̑̅ͨ̒̚͜͡ͅͅ"



Pastel lips curled back in wicked satisfaction, the plague vector looked to her master.

@Dark

Dark listened to Bevy as she crooned at him. Coaxed him. He should have helped. Why didn't he help her...?

He'd tried... He'd tried! The owl closed his eyes, going wholly still, his thoughts racing as he trembled with fever and cold. He had tried. He didn't know what had happened. Or how to help. How could he help, how could he see, if he were blind...?

Bevy--... BevyBevy--Bevy--Mother--Bevy... he cried.

He reached out for her, but she was already touching him, poison feathers toxin on his forehead. It was almost... comforting, but for her words. His magic flooded forth, his being, his soul... He gave himself to her utterly. And from her, a gift: he saw a dark horse in the distance, its eyes glowing green. Before it sat a small, white bird, smaller than he, but not tiny like Bevy. Its chest was stained with blood.

It was dying, he decided.

His eyes opened once more.

Was that the answer, then...? Was that where you went, when they died? He gazed unseeing at the Bevy before him--she was Bevy, all birds were Bevy--all things were Bevy. There were two Bevys--but then, there had always been many Bevys, even in the same Bevy.

His thoughts whirled, but still he saw the strange white bird, the black horse standing staring at it. There was a strange melancholy to the scene, and through it, in his mind, he saw Bevy soar to and fro. And still her voice crooned sickly-sweet to him.

She was showing him what had happened. Or this was a stranger. Or everyone was dead. Or hell had come for him. Or he was dead. All of them were dead. All the Bevys. He had to tell her that he had seen. That he understood. And he did. But he didn't.

"When you died," Dark whispered, hooked black beak reaching up for Bevy's bird-ear, "When you died, the white bird bled red and the black horse came to take you away. I saw them. I see them. They are ugly. You are beautiful. Where did you go? Where did you go? Where didyoudidyoudidyougo?" Seemlessly he broke from the barest whispering breath into an ear-shattering scream, the loudest, most pained cry he could emit, shuddering with pain.

"WHERE DID YOU GOOOOO?" the owl wailed.

________________

@Belladonna

Tears pricked Belladonna's eye as she retched, keeping it silent as she possibly could. Through her stinging eye, she watched as Di moved closer to the wretched bird, pleading to him with her soft, young voice, and Bella watched with satisfaction and pride in her chest. Yes, that's perfect, my disease, she whispered to her through the bond. Then the bird spoke, so broken as to not even recognize Dia. Images flashed in the owl's mind that filtered its way through to Belladonna through her magic, and made its way similarly to her vector through their bond. It was a circle of information and sampled pain, like a buffet they could both share and feast on equally. Similarly, everything Di saw, so too could Bella see, and she saw those green crystal eyes open from far away and from so close by at the same time. When the owl screeched, Bella's ears flattened against her skull, but she paid the piercing noise no mind. Instead she made her way closer to her disease. Infect him with our sickness, my vector. Make him suffer for daring to touch us. She pulled at her magic now, but she didn't command the shadows around her, no, she reached for the shadows inside, and the writhing sea responded to her. It poured violently from her eyes and her mouth and coiled itself around Dia's talons like hissing snakes made of thick, viscous oil, awaiting the vector's command. These shadows were created from Belladonna's conception, from Vazi's grief and hatred, from Clover's suffering and her wish for death, from Belladonna's own sick adoration of pain. She and Dia would force this snake down the owl's throat and watch him really scream, let him know what pain really meant. Hell was waiting for him. "......."

The owl reached for her, and she allowed it... almost curious to see what his delusions would derive from the touch. A surge of magicka filled her, and the jaded orbs glowed vibrantly behind thin lids once more. Once his gaze was revealed again, he had stared into space, his thoughts obviously whirling. Rubies glimmered as he began to whisper, reaching up for the top of the raven's crown. Diánysma was at first alarmed, but she realized. Dark's delusions were twisting things.

It was that sickly sweet misery that she enjoyed, desired, and feasted upon. One could say that her bond shared with Belladonna only fueled this, but it was shared. A free all-you-can-eat buffet of pain and suffering.

With the screech, she recoiled sharply. Scampering away from the owl for a moment as a low ringing echoed in her ear-holes (banshee isn't sure how to describe them, okay?), before clacking her beak indignantly. Lifting a pastel-hued limb, the ravenesque being shushed the owl. "Shhhh, Dark. I'm here, but only for a little bit." Smirking wickedly, she gently caressed the cheekbones of the owl. "I went nowhere. But in just a bit, I'll fade away. I'll become nothing. I won't exist anymore."

"but," The shadowy serpent writhed with cold and cruel excitement as it grew impatient. Once more, her talons gently lay atop the owl's throat, and she lifted the dark serpent writhing about her talons. "Would you like to come with me... to where I will go? Will you disappear with me, my child?" Oily and slick scales shimmered as Diánysma cast the serpent upon the owl's throat, where it then slithered into the owl's mouth, fading into darkness. 'He will soon fall to the disease of the barren,' she thought with wicked satisfaction.

@Dark

The owl wasn't aware of anything going on around him, really. Bevy was everywhere, his body already wracked with agony from Kerberos's radiation. The additional infiltration of the plague would have no effects, at first, so he wasn't even aware of anything bar the cold curl of shadows twining over him. And even that, he could not distinguish from the fever chills.

He had no idea the white raven had likely just brought to him his death.

But he knew that Bevy had touched him, and was whispering in his ear, and offering to bring him to wherever they were going. If she had touched him, he was already poisoned. He was already dying.

"Yes," he agreed softly. He'd never wanted to be here. His life ran through his mind; so short, so bright, despite the darkness he had spent it in. He had a vague memory of hatching, of the world being a fascinating and wonderful place. Of Louie nearby, trying to sicken and kill him, though he hadn't realized that until much later. Of-...

Louie.

Was this even Bevy...? In a moment of clarity he registered the sound of retching from another source. What was happening? But an instant later he had pushed it away, madness claiming him wholly. It was Bevy, or it was not. It didn't matter. They were all going to the darkness--the true darkness--one way or the other.

"Together," he croaked--and leaned back, both taloned legs shooting out for Diánysma's chest, to snag in deep with inch-long talons, to crush and grip and drag her close.

We will go together.

________________

(( @Belladonna ; @Diánysma ; I will roll at some point for his survival from plague, he's very weak as it is already. You can decide how he fails at gripping, misses or just weak or whatever, I don't mind))