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Myosotis knew who Leshy was. It was difficult not to know one of the very gods you had been trying to avoid for most of your life, only to nearly be sacrificed to in the end. Leshy, he of havoc, the youngest of four bishops, the god that once reined over Darkwood. Once upon a time, while living under a different name, with a different mindset and different family, Myosotis had lived in Darkwood.
Those days were over now, they had been for hundreds of years. But even so, the memories had not left him.
He still remembered the beautiful red flowers that bloomed between long grass. He still remembered the chaos, the way you never seemed to be able to have a moment of peace, always a new danger. And he remembers the murals that depicted the bishop of chaos in all of his glory.
They were always more of messy doodles then beautiful paintings, quick drawing made on stone depicting a green worm-like being, sometimes decorated in camellias, sometimes in gold, or even on occasion bones, with black antlers protruding from his head. Myosotis himself had always imagined the bishop as a regal yet chaotic figure, one that reeked of power and madness. A godly creature that commanded respect, that made you fear him. What he did not expect was to find the bishop of chaos, scared and pathetic, growling empty threats at anyone who dared near him.
The bishop had made his way onto one of the refinery stations, preventing anyone from doing refinery work or heading to the near by tailor. Myosotis walked up to where his leader stood, fidgeting with the fleece that they had fashioned from their own wool and leaves from Darkwood. They chatted anxiously with their high priest, Narinder. His eyes narrowed at the presence of the other cat. He should be used to the sight of him by now, truly, perhaps maybe even respect him a bit. But it was hard to have respect for a being that had tried to sacrifice the one you pledged you’re life to.
Excluding the Lamb and the Narinder himself, Myosotis was one of six who had been around long enough to remember the fight. To remember and witness the Lamb’s rise to godhood and the one who waits, Narinder’s, fall from it. Now Narinder just spends his days following the Lamb around, critiquing their ways of life and what not.
“My leader? You called upon me?” He spoke as he neared, dipping his head in respect to both the Lamb and, begrudgingly, to Narinder.
“Myo, thank you for coming, I wanted to speak to you about, uhm, well I’m sure you can guess,” The Lamb dipped their head back, Narinder, after a moment, did as well, his veil blew in the wind, revealing a a narrowed red eye. The Lamb looked back and forth between the bishop of chaos and Myosotis’s face a few times, a frantic look that all of their disciples hated seeing on the child’s face, “I’m sorry, whenever I or Marigold try to go over there he tries to attack us for, well, obvious reasons, and Lycoris is helping Eucharis treat Echinops after his expedition so you’re the only one I could turn to,” Their speech is fast and they gesture around wildly , nearly hitting their priest in the face.
Internally, he sighs. He knows why his leader feels bad, the events of his rescue must be as fresh in their mind as it must be in his, “I understand perfectly well leader, I shall deal with this dissenter,” He assures his leader with a smile, but their eyes only widen.
“No! no, no, no,” They say frantically, Narinder chuckles at their side, smile widening from under the veil, “I just- could you try to talk him down for me first? At the very least I want the others to be able to resume their work,”
Myosotis looked towards the bishop once more, he looked like a feral animal, nothing like a god should. He’s dressed in long rags, caked with mud and blood that dripped down from a bandage wrapped around his eyes. At least his murals got his green shade and antlers correct. The sight was reminiscent from when Narinder first joined, another god defeated by their leaders blade. Another god reduced to a weak and pathetic bottom feeder.
“I’ll do my best my leader,” He says with a smile.
The Lamb smiled back, relief written all over their face, “Thank you Myo, thank you so much,”
“It’s my pleasure to carry out you’re will,” He answered back, dipping his head to both the Lamb and Narinder once again before turning towards the bishop.
He let his feet carry himself forward into what most of the followers, judging from the small crowd, considered the danger zone.
As he neared the refinery, he cleared his throat, causing the bishop to wildly shake his head around in search of the noise.
“Get back! Back I say!” He yelled, a low hissing noise rumbling in his throat as he bared sharp teeth, “I will not become another fool that prays at that lambs feet,”
Myosotis’s eyes narrow as his tail swishes across the grass, Death give him patience, he could already tell this one was going to be a hassle. But regardless of his inner feelings, he put on his best smile and fake voice, “Excuse me, but our wondrous leader would highly appreciate it if you were to step off of the refinery stations,”
The bishop hissed, a tail that could’ve easily been mistaken for a bush swung behind him, “If you assume I will take orders from that child you call a leader then you are surely mistaken,” he growls, shaking his head.
Myosotis’s smile twitches, of course an ex-god would not take kindly to orders, “Perhaps I was too brash,” They say to the fallen god, staring down at him, “Why don’t we start over? My name is Myosotis, I’m from Darkwood, just like you,”
“You insolent creature!” The bishop snaps his teeth forward, Myosotis flinches back slightly, but ultimately holds his ground, “How dare you claim to hail from my woods, no one who has pledged themself to the lamb has any business traversing my lands,”
He gave the bishop a pointed look, it’s not like he could choose where he hailed from, “Look, I’m not here to get you to throw yourself at our leaders feet, please just get off of the refinery stations,” he tried instead.
The bishops smile widened, “Follower of the Lamb, If you think you can control chaos then you are mistaken,”
Myosotis’s tail thumped against the grass bellow in annoyance, “I’m not trying to control you, you’re just in the way-”
“good,” Leshy hissed out at him, claws digging into the stone beneath him, “The Lamb is a false god, a naive child who thinks they are ready to play among the mighty, you may view them as a figure of prestige now, but soon they shall crumble, and the old faith shall return,”
Myosotis felt his ears flatten against his head as a low growl sounded in his throat, “Do not speak of our leader that way, heretic,” he narrowed his eyes at the ex-god.
Leshy laughed, throwing his head back, “It is surprising to see that someone in this forsaken cult has a backbone,”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” He challenged, taking a step forward towards the fallen god.
“You’re god is as soft as their wool, they have coddled you all, made you all soft and weak,”
“Well clearly you know nothing, many of us have lived through great tragedy, we have had to fight to survive and wish to fight no more, from what I see, you are the weak and pathetic one, you call our god soft yet you allowed them to strip you of your godhood,” He sneered.
Leshy scoffed, abruptly standing up to his full height on the refinery station, “I’ll show you who’s pathetic!” That was his only warning before the bishop lunged, arms outstretched and reaching for his neck.
Leshy’s full body crashed into him, sending the two of them crashing into the grass below. Myosotis hissed in pain as one of Leshy’s sharp claws scraped across his upper arm.
“Forgive me leader,” He mumbled before retaliating, biting the bishops shoulder as hard as he could, until the taste of blood filled his mouth.
Leshy hissed, shoving him off and tumbling off of him, kicking up dust and dirt along with him, “wretched beast, two can play that game,” he spat, charging at Myosotis once again on all fours like an animal.
Myosotis yelped as he rolled over, narrowly missing another one of Leshy’s tackles. He watched for a moment as Leshy skidded to stop, he sniffed the air then turned his head in Myosotis’s direction and charged again.
He was too slow to dodge that time, he was pushed back onto his back, unable to get up as he used all of his strength the hold the bishop back. Even in his mortal form, Leshy was strong. With a grunt, he threw Leshy off and back onto the ground.
He jumped to his feet, watching as Leshy did the same. He expected a stand off, for Leshy to think about his actions for at least a moment. He’s wrong in his assumption as he’s tackled again, though this time slightly more prepared.
He grunts as he holds his ground, digging his feet into the dirt to prevent himself from falling over. Instead he’s the one to overpower Leshy, shoving him away, not to hurt but just to get some distance between them.
But forgot to account for the refinery station behind him. The ex-god stumbled back, a string of curses flew from his mouth as he barreled down, that was until his head made contact with the hard stone of the refinery station. A sickening crack was any through the grounds, the bishops body went limp as one of his many antlers broke off and fell to the ground beside him.
“Leshy!” Came a shout from behind him as his leader pushed past him, running up to Leshy’s body. They dropped to their knees and began checking for a pulse, Myosotis dared not step forward, his body frozen as a feeling of shame began building in his stomach as he realized he had directly gone against his leaders orders.
He was told not to fight. He was just supposed to talk to him. And now there was a chance that he had killed him. He had failed his leader.
He turned his head to the side, the sight of the bishops limp body making him nauseous. He flinched as he met with Narinder standing next to him, when the other cat had gotten so close, he wasn’t sure. His ears flattened against his head as he suppressed a growl, a thought occurred to him, wondering if perhaps Narinder was angry with him, after all he had heard through the grape vine that the two were brothers.
A harsh wind blew the cats veil slightly away from his face to reveal that his gaze was on the Lamb and Leshy, “Though a hard worker you are, in the end your temper shall be your hubris,” The priest spoke in a quiet tone to him before walking off to join the Lamb.
Myosotis stood there, a statue frozen in time as he looked at the spot Narinder had just stood in, his ears still flat against his head and his tail coiled around his leg. His temper his hubris? What did he-
“He’s alive!” His thoughts were interrupted by his leaders happy shouts. His head whipped back around, his leader stood tall once again, hand over their own chest, a self-soothing tactic, as Narinder stood knelt down next to his brother, “Someone call for Eucharis,”
Myosotis wasted no time, turning around and heading towards the medic tent, pushing past the crowds of followers while exchanging no words. He did not run, because there was nothing to run from. No scoldings or cryptic words, nothing to run from. He was just being helpful.