Alice isn’t shaken by it, really. Predators, bigger predators, were a fact of life. There were death rites that would need to be carried out, but that would be after the sun set over the grasslands of Asteraia. She was used to things like this. Life, death, life again, death again—a cycle. Sometimes you lost contact in between those events, but it all started the same way and ended the same way. There was so much sameness, and Alice knew too much about it. A cyclical lifetime, one that she… one that she knew too much about. The clockwork angel didn’t really think much of it anymore. It wasn’t that she was jaded, she was just… tired.
Today had been a long one, and it already seemed like weeks ago that she’d been sitting with Delya and discussing Belle’s future. Mere hours had passed since they’d say among the lavender patches in the land that her niece called home, talking over the things that were important. Things like the impact of a gypsy lifestyle as opposed to growing up as a member of a pack, the idea of Delya raising her instead of Alice, the help of a community like Asteraia had acquired. The Russian dancer was the steward of the pack, the beta, the girl that sat just below the ruling pair. Yes, Alice wouldn’t pull the child and her adoptive mother back into her gypsy ways. It wasn’t polite. She had a life of her own now, and she was going to respect that.
What needed to come now was a cleansing. The woman was soaked to the skin with blood from the bear, grey fur red and sticky and matted down. There was dirt there too, grit that sat beside her skin with a sickly sort of… feeling. No, that was not appropriate at all. A bath. She’d not only helped kill but she and Delya had dismembered the bear, dividing it so they would all be able to eat it. So many mothers… at least no one would go hungry this season. If there was a silver lining to the day, that was it.
Still, the clockwork angel reeks of bear. It’s not all that unpleasant, other than the fact death comes so closely associated with it. The day had been long, and now she was making her way to the river. That was what she needed, of course. Throw herself in the river, high with the spring snowmelt, and let it wash away what stained her cream-based grey coat. The color would linger for a while longer, but she would be clean. Clean at last. The midday sun shone brightly as the creature came to the side of the river, moving downstream to a more remote location.
And all she does is stand on the edge, covered in blood, staring at her reflection. Sometimes it’s hard for the clockwork angel to process.
alice
the clockwork angel
all we've got is this family unbroke |