Work Text:
to be an acolyte. to be the sin ripped and washed away in the ritual of innocence and beatitude. what has van palmer ever known more than servitude? what is lottie matthews but another gripped bible in the form of a girl? the rightful place of her below, the rightful place of lottie above. the deer bone crown pressing to her temples in ways van can never reach. a holy savior in this wretched place, knees burning and bruised from the snow but van knows where she belongs. the sweetheart table of an altar with bloodstains as a tablecloth and the wedding cake a bear heart, still beating. lottie matthews, begotten by the woods, symbols carved in blood and snow and bone.
and what then, when van steals laura lee's bible and scrawls lottie's name in place of christ and prays it makes sense to the wilderness? when the red words are no longer ink but the blood of their friends? when she rips the ribbon marker out and ties it around lottie's wrist, the silk burning van from across the woods. what does it mean to fall at the feet of a girl with no words for you that are not holy?
when she speaks, her voice combs out honey and spite and life. when lottie sits between van's knees, and van braids her hair, she whispers mottled prayers she stole from laura lee with lottie's moniker of antler queen spliced where the christian girl spoke of jesus. she weaves devotion into the strands of her and cries piety into the ripped cloth she's tying around the ends. lottie's warmth is burning her legs, and van unceremoniously shoves her away as soon as she's done, muttering something about afternoon prayers and fleeing the cabin.
van follows lottie wherever she goes, ignoring mari and nat's quips about van's likeness to a puppy. she speaks mainly to tai and lottie, and the former less and less. she begs tai to come to prayers, hoping the piety will absolve tai of whatever has awoken within her, hopeful that lottie can take something away and leave her tai in its place.
the chant fills her head, "we hear the wilderness and it hears us." she whispers this so much her lips take over the motion before her vocal chords do, and she finds herself mouthing it without meaning to. she finds the hunting knife in her hand and the blade across her palm, blood dripping at lottie's feet. she opens the wound and it never heals, pain and faith blossoming every time she makes a fist.
when the wind howls, van thinks she hears the wolves and her scars ache until lottie traces them with her kind fingertips, whispering salvation. van covers her hand with her own and leans into her, a devotee into the forgiving touch of their god. van never much believed in god until now, until the form of it before her a quiet girl with prayers in her braids.
she practices prayers in front of the altar, listening to lottie's instructions.
"louder. like you mean it."
"let the wilderness hear you. be louder than the wind."
"tell the truth, van."
"ask for forgiveness."
"it wants blood. it wants us."
when van asks for a way home, lottie pulls her to her feet roughly, a quiet anger simmering in the taller girl, hand encircling van's wrist and nails digging into the skin.
"don't you get it, van? we can't leave." lottie softens, releasing her wrist and pulling that same soft hand to trace her scars again. "we're home, now."
when van cries and doesn't respond, lottie shushes her and pulls the redhead to her chest. van sobs, wraps her arms around lottie and shakes out breathy apologies,
lottie shakes her head, kisses her hair, and whispers, "we hear the wilderness and it hears us." she hears the reverence in her voice and it soothes her, her breathing slowing.
van chokes back her tears, and pulls herself up to look at lottie, who is looking at van with what she thinks is admiration. "we hear the wilderness and it hears us."
she nods at van, smooths her hair back, pleased at her devotion. "you did well, van. it will be pleased." and as lottie walks back to the cabin, all serenity and grace and violence, the wolves in van's head quiet. her mind silences, and all she hears is the wind through her hair. she watches the click of her heels into the snow-covered moss of the forest, and sinks back into the snow around the altar. she has to practice, for lottie.
when she sleeps, however rare that might be now, she dreams of lottie. not in the kind, soft way she dreams of tai, but rather something corrupted and fearful and divine. she dreams lottie's holding her down in the lake, water muffling the words spilling from the girl's lips and washing over van as the breath rips from her lungs and bubbles to the surface. she dreams she's kneeling at lottie's feet and breaking down, the taller girl winding her fingers into van's red hair. she dreams of the praises sung in lottie's voice that sounds so much like wolves howling van wakes up, chest heaving and thrashing against a dead-asleep taissa. she dreams of finding lottie asleep in the snow, chest rising and falling and a warmth surrounding her that should not be there.
—--
when van sees lottie across the compound, it's like no time has passed. there has not been 25 years and thousands of miles between them. van gets the urge to drop to her knees in obedience then, without a single word from lottie. she stares, open mouthed, tears welling up and fear fills her body when lottie stares back. they're older, wiser, but in that moment, van is eighteen years old and lost in the woods and there is snow creeping in her shoes. the scar on her palm is the only thing she can think of, hand itching for a knife to open the wound for lottie again.
"lottie…" she whispers, under her breath, ignoring the looks of confusion from the other women.
"hi, van." lottie's voice is so quiet, van is not sure she said it aloud, not sure she didn't imagine it. she sounds just like she did.
she can barely get sound out, but manages a fraught, "lottie." as shauna stares at her like she's never seen van before.
"it's been a while." lottie nods, not making any effort to go to them yet. "welcome to camp green pine." she spreads her hands out, gesturing to the landscape behind her that van swears is the wilderness as they've never seen it, kind and blooming full of life.
"camp…green pine?" shauna speaks up, hands jammed into her pockets and looking between van and lottie confusedly.
tai is shouldered close to her, almost protectively and asks, "what is going on?" as both tai and shauna move towards lottie in front of van.
van is just staring at lottie, refusing to follow the others into moving closer to her. she's watching that duster billow behind her and suddenly, they are eighteen again in the snowy woods and lottie's duster is a bear pelt and she still has a scar on her forehead and the stress of the years has not yet marked her face.
she falls to her knees, out of exhaustion and devotion, sobs wracking from her chest. she feels like she is screaming lottie's name but nothing is coming from her throat but cries, and she feels tai's arms wrap around her shoulders. she flinches away from her touch and bows her head towards lottie, who is walking towards them. the picture of an angel, or maybe a devil, van wouldn't know the difference so long as it was lottie.
"van." lottie says, finally reaching her and placing a hand on the top of her head softly. "stand up."
van obeys without a second thought, sobs quieting into shuddering breaths as she throws herself into lottie's arms. lottie accepts it without a second thought, wrapping her arms around van and squeezing, and van swears she feels tears press against her cheek in the frigid new york air.
"lottie." she echoes one final time, breathing life back into her lungs for the first time in twenty-five years. "you're…you're alive. you're real."
"i'm real." lottie confirms, pulling back to look at her first and then the others.
van feels the wilderness creep back into her bones, years of subduing it fading faster than she can breathe. she can hear the wilderness, can hear the wolves howling in lottie's breath, can feel the shame and the snow build back up on her clothes. there is no one here but her and lottie, a devotee and her god, an acolyte and and her apostate, an apostle and her visionary. we hear the wilderness, and it hears us. van hears the wilderness, and lottie hears her.
lottie smiles at her, and steps back to look at the group. "i suppose we have some catching up to do." she begins to walk towards a building in the distance, and reaches out a hand to van. "follow me?"
van takes her hand, and she follows.