1299/1300 wrote:Malloria had always been different.
Although not quite kind, she had been a very lively and playful girl, one whose spirit went unmatched by her peers even on the happiest of days; even with her somewhat bratty attitude, many saw her as a bright girl expecting an even brighter future.
On the day she discovered what powers she beheld, her demeanor shifted. At first, she was experimental; she would cast smaller spells, turning cockroaches into mice or songbirds into eagles--but as her shaky grasp on her abilities strengthened, she grew crueler, and her humor grew twisted. She would curse visclings with frail limbs and cackle at their tangled feet as they wailed and struggled to stand, shroud close friends or mates with illusions to tear their close bonds apart and watch every moment as though it were entertaining-- and nothing stopped her. Even when she was exiled from her village and left to starve and fend for herself, the viscling stood up on her own two paws and pressed on with her little toys keeping her moving along the way. The older she grew, the less she cared about how harmful her spells were--and, as she reached the equivalent of teenage years in her life, she began to cast much more deadly enchantments.
It began when a particular viscet caught her eye. A handsome male with a magnificent coat of browns, speckled ornately like that of a hyena; even his name,
Jean, seemed to cloak him with an air of interest, and as such, Malloria became captivated.
It had started out quite simple; Malloria had come across him while she’d been traveling through the thick, suffocating forests of what she’d deemed unknown and he, home. They’d had a curious confrontation, with mild flirtations exchanged and interests flared until Jean turned tail and returned home, tacitly leaving Malloria to follow.
Kahlri was his mother’s name. She didn’t look one bit like Jean, but Malloria could tell from the way that they acted with each other that they were closer than any bond she’d ever had. From that, her jealousy had sparked. However, to retain her welcome, she had decided to strike a deal with Kahlri; in exchange for Malloria’s knowledge in alchemy and spell-casting, the pixie-winged witch would be allowed to stay and live with her soon-to-be beloved and his mother in their rather cramped little home.
For seasons, the three lived together somewhat happily; there were little fights to be picked, aside from the...rather odd and confusing ones Jean and Kahlri had become prone to breaking out into. Malloria’s skills spiked with her tutoring and informing of Kahlri, and within a year of her stay with the two, Malloria was certain she had captured his heart.
The night she planned to admit her feelings happened to be the same night that she had decided to tutor Kahlri on her personal favorite selection of spells -- death spells, which ranged from summoning beasts set endlessly on tearing their selected victim down to curses that led others to an unfortunate death at the claws, fangs, or any other specified method that the caster pleased to choose. Rather than receive a positive response from her older student, however, Malloria was met with disgust and outrage when what the former realized that the ‘joke’ lesson was all too real.
“What is wrong with you, child!? I asked of your knowledge for means of information, not murder. Is this why you have no home? Is this what you take pride in? You disgust me, Malloria.”
“What? Ri, come on. It’s not a big deal; it’s not like I’ve ever used those things before. I mean, sure, maybe I’ve experimented with them, but…”
“Experimented? Don’t lie to me. I’ve met enough criminals in my life to know what ‘experimenting’ is.”
“...so what? What are you going to do about it?” Her voice was snarky, smug as she stared the older female down, her eyes narrowing. Kahlri glared right back, her ears pinned back against her head.
“Stay away from Jean.”
“What? No! This has to be some kind of joke-!”
“Stay away from my son, you witch! I raised him to do his work, criminal or not, properly! He has strong morals and a good heart--you’ve neither, and you deserve neither. Stay away from my son, or I will--”
“You’ll what? Tell him I’m some big, bad meanie? That I’ll hurt his feelings if I become his mate?” Her words dripped with mockery.
“I don’t have to.” Malloria was put off by the smug gleam in Kahlri’s eyes; what was she so pleased about-?
Jean’s voice interrupted the quarrel.
“...Malloria?”That night, he had been there to see and hear everything. When Malloria had seen his eyes glimmering with disbelief, and then darken with anger in a sense of protection for his mother, she felt her heart twist in despair. Even after all of her attempts to impress him, to capture his interest and wean him away from that wench’s side, he still stuck with
her over Malloria, the one who really mattered.
She’d cried, pleaded for him to let her stay, flew into a rage and broke bottles, demanding for him to hear her out -- but she knew that his decision was made from the cold, cold look in his eyes as he spat two simple words at her, as if that were all he had the stomach to say to her.
“Get out.”
She’d left without another word, her spirit broken; her wings twitched to life and off she flew, out of the clogged forest and into the empty night air, where her chest heaved and her muzzle burned, a pit of agony and hatred and outrage boiling and festering inside of her fur like a heat-stroke, eating away at her thoughts until finally her rage clouded her vision and she’d tumbled down after striking something in the air. Crashing to the floor and crumpling into a heap of sobs, she let out a cry of frustration as her claws raked into the grassy earth until they ripped, as if she were just
fantasizing being able to do such a thing to that wretched Kahlri. She hated her. She
hated her. If only she weren’t
alive--
Her shallow breaths slowed until reason entered her mind again.
Why, Malloria, can’t you make that happen? After all, you’re the best enchantress in the world. Right? the snide little voice her head purred, and her ears pinned back. Of course she was.
That night, Malloria finally found the breath of fresh air she’d been aching for. Her aching paws had set into the dirt as a dim glow ebbed from her fur, her eyes glinting a vibrant green while the wind kicked up and her tail lashed. “
Make her pay for this. Make her pay for ruining my life!” she roared, and upon regaining her sight, Malloria was met with the image of dozens of shadowy viscets gazing back at her, holding their gazes until they turned and flocked in the direction she’d come from. A problem met, a problem solved.
“Well. Who needs a mate anyway?” she murmured, a smirk twisting across her muzzle. “Who needs
anyone when you’re someone like me?” If Jean didn’t want her, that was fine; she didn’t need the frailty of companionship. She was just fine on her own; it was his loss, right?
Jean’s soul was broken that night, when Kahlri’s cries split the air before cutting off eternally. Malloria’s was torn from her chest the moment she heard Jean’s heartbroken, grief-stricken wails; how revolting it had been to hear such pathetic cries when someone so much better was still living and breathing for him--well, for him, she was no longer doing either.
Now, she was alive for herself.