Chapter Text
The dusky hum of the city fills the ears of a certain little kitten, tail flicking anxiously as they hide behind their teacher’s leg. Amarah, a bunny with long lop ears trailing behind him, stands tall above them without regarding their presence as he makes conversation with another.
Within the city, the streets are muddy and wet, dampening Tide’s feet with the evidence of the clouds. They give a discontented mrrr as they shake out their paw. As they separate themselves from Amarah’s side, they give one final glance at his face before skittering off.
Streets are too open. Too noisy. Too humid. The tension between Tide’s eyes begins to subside as they hug closer to fences and walls, pinning their ears down.
They stalk the streets a bit to gather their bearings, curious but cautious. Still, somehow, they wander too far. Amarah’s speech grows more and more distant as they descend into the city.
Tide passes an alleyway, fidgeting with their claws in their hands.
“Hi!” A voice echoes out. Tide flinches, turning promptly on their heel with the grace of a cat. Of course, they nearly slip on such wet ground, digging in their heels to avoid falling. The danger that stands before them is a girl about their age.
Long brown hair, meticulously in thick braids, first meets their eye. Second is the scent that hits their nose, something similar to unripe tomato, but not quite. Third is the fluffy dark ears upon her head—a wolf’s.
She smiles at them, and goes to reach for their hand. In a moment, they yelp.
..And turn into a scraggly little kitten, shaking on the ground, fur puffed up and big blue eyes staring up. The girl blinks.
She glances around, then back down at Tide. “Um.. Sorry..? I didn’t mean to scare you, I’ve just never seen you before!” Her tone lifts back to being chipper.
Slightly more restrained, but friendly, she extends her paw. “I’m Azure! Well, my family calls me Elowenraze. But I think it’s ugly. So call me Azurewrath.” Azure smiles flippantly. “Oh—and I’m a boy!”
Tide stares upwards, still shaking, but able to regain their composure. Their ear flicks with uncertainty as they quickly dash their eyes around between the streets.
Amarah wouldn’t want me talking to the cityfolk.
Amarah isn’t nearby.
Slowly and reluctantly do they release their form, shifting back more humanoid, tentatively extending their paw to Azure’s. The touch is uncomfortable to them, but Azure seems satisfied. “Hey, you seem nice! Do you wanna be friends? Are you new to this part of the city? I can show you around!” Tide all feels a bit dazed by this.
“Oh, I never even asked your name either!”
He watches them expectantly. They freeze a bit. “Oh. Um.. Tide. I’m Tide.”
Azure considers them for a moment. “Tide..”
Then he smiles, a genuinely fond one. “Then I’m sure we’ll be great friends!”
Tide!
Suddenly, a voice calls off in the distance.
Tide! Are you in there?
Tide!
Tide wakes with a start. Their body already aches from the weight of sleep, neck stinging with discomfort. They must have laid awake most of the night again. Shame they only began to drift off upon the sun’s calling.
”Tide!” More knocking. ”You’re going to miss mass at this rate! Up!”
It’s their roommate’s voice. Tide hears her mumble something and walk off, about Amarah’s pet and lack of responsibility.
Tide stares at the wall for a few moments before they rise from their bed. It creaks with every movement. Exhaustion immediately beckons them, but they resist the call of the void.
When they can stand, they steady themselves, and their gaze wanders to the altar within their room. The mirror affixed to the top of the altar, adorned with offerings and gifts, reflects their form.
Tide stumbles closer.
Pale and lanky, with messy hair, eye bags they could never truly be rid of—and their one pride.
The self-sacrificial marks coating their arms. The evidence of their devotion.
What draws them out of their trance is not their rationale but instead the grumble of their stomach. It’s quiet, but it forces their eyes open a bit more, and their ears pin back as they return to reality.
Yes. Mass. They should get ready. They have errands to run, after all. But first—
Before they part from the altar, they bow their head and murmur a prayer, rosary clutched in their claws, the paint fading and chipped from the sweat that mists their palms and the friction of nights spent praying again and again and again.
“Blessed be the Spawn, for He is good and just. For the Spawn is what gives life to this world..”
The sun sits heavy in the sky, beating down on the ground despite the chill in the air. Pollen, cut grass, and fresh laundry drifts into the air. A leaf brushes Tide’s side as they pass by a tree. No longer are the plants bare with snowy winter.
Tide shifts their gaze to the side to where the laundry scent came from—where the clothes are being hung up to dry—and they catch the gaze of some of the other cultists. The youngest looks away. The older nods politely. Tide shifts their eyes away, too. Gravel crunches beneath their boots as they make distance.
As they slip out into the crossroads between the districts, they glance up to the sky. From the sun’s place, they can posit it’s not quite noon. Quietly, they make their way to the church, a polite smile painted on their features.
The scent of damp earth follows them inside for longer than it should. Something else lies in the air, like the taste of nightshade on their tongue.
When they enter, it’s silent, save for the tap, tap, tap of their footsteps across the marble. Cultists sit across the pews praying. Most of them don’t look up.
Movement stirs across the way, a ladder leaning against the far wall as one of the teachers adjusts the hanging banner there. The fabric rustles, then pauses. Tide feels a pair of eyes on them. When they look up, they’re given a small smile in return. Approval.
Tide’s gaze is quickly fixed down the center of the aisle once more.
The sun streams in through the stained glass windows, bathing the world in the Spawn’s light. Color paints their face as they pass by one, then more. When they stand before the altar, the elder in front of them sorting religious doctrine glances up, then off to the side.
Another teacher motions for Tide to come. They turn right, then make haste up the small stairs.
Two familiar ears on someone whose back is turned. The teacher by Tide’s side whispers just once, and then the other turns to face them.
Amarah. His gaze settles upon Tide, perceiving, assessing. Tide’s smile does not waver. Sweat beads on their brow. Their ears pin back.
The wrinkles on his face shift as he smiles lightly, letting his posture relax, arms falling open. Tide notes the presence at his side leaving as he ducks his head and loosens up. “Teacher Amarah,” they murmur, still quiet so as not to disturb the others.
“You’re late, Tide.” They close their eyes. “Yes, Teacher. I apologize. My mind was preoccupied with prayer the night before, and I-” “Excuses will not be necessary. This is a once in a blue moon event, so I’ll make an exception.”
A sigh of relief.
“Yes, Teacher. I offer my thanks for your forgiveness.”
Amarah turns back to his work. “The Spawn is pleased with your work as of recently. You may clean up the shrines.” The shrines. Tide can recall scrubbing cooled wax off of them just last week, brushing away dust and dirt from hands and offerings.
As they turn to leave, Amarah speaks again.
“Though the Spawn is pleased, they still expect the best of you, Tide. Do not forget that.”
Tide’s smile does not waver nor falter. Their posture is perfectly neutral and focused, as is their mind. They instinctively adjust their robes with a slight tremor in their hands.
“Yes, Teacher.”
Tide moves with hastened steps towards the main shrine, the place of offering. It’s already been cleared off by a teacher, but not dusted, not meticulously cared for the way Tide is instructed to do.
They place the candle holder off to the side, pulling out the used candles and placing them in with the rest of them to be melted down and reused later. Before they fetch new candles to place into the holder, they pour hot water over a washcloth onto the table to take care of the wax.
As they work to scrub away the cooled wax, hands burning from the nearly boiling water, a teacher brushes by their back. “Well done, Tide,” she approves, then continues on.
Tide’s smile grows a bit wider.
By the time they’re finished cleaning and redecorating the shrines, the noon bell strikes, a low ding ringing out through the large cathedral and out into the forest. Tide quickens to wash their hands and remove their cleaning apron before they seat themselves at the front of the cathedral. The Spawn’s most devoted follower.
The air sings with the scent of incense, smoke, and cleaning supplies. Every inch of the place is pure, as intended. When silence is called, they lower their head into their hands and pray.
For reasons unknown, something beckons them to raise their head. Never in their life have they considered doing that. Never have they looked up in the middle of prayer, considered even the thought of it.
Tide opens one eye just slightly and turns their head near to the back. Something stands out to their eye. A familiar face, far more grown now. Something catches in Tide’s throat.
They quickly dash their head back down into prayer, eyes slamming closed as quickly as they can make it, but their thoughts are distracted now, distant from the idea of the Spawn. They rush to fix their thoughts, but still, something lingers there. They taste nightshade again. They need fresh air to remind them of their devotion.
When the prayer finally ends, Tide does not linger like they usually do. They slip out quickly, their breathing shallow, smile shaky. They swallow up the spring air like they haven’t been able to breathe for a millennium.
The garden is quieter than the church, but no less watched. After all, they were appointed to check on something new that Amarah is trying: gardening hands. Before this, cultists took care of the garden as they pleased, never truly assigned to the work. But now, there are new members here, and Tide, as the picture image of devotion, is to keep them on the right path with their appearance.
Something nasty curls in their chest at their earlier, small rebellion. They will atone for it later.
Tide was never meant for outside labor. They bear the hands of a devotee, not a worker, shaky and pale. The sun sinks into the dull blues and dark colors of their robes, but it’s a welcome heat. Their nose burns from the frosty air.
They can see others working here, and they slink their gaze around between them all before their eye is once more caught onto something. Nightshade. Unripe tomato. Bitter leaves.
He’s certainly a lot more masculine-looking now. Broad and muscular, tall, ears and tail fluffed out with age—far more wolfish than the little puppy girl they recall.
His clothing is rather.. immodest, but Tide is willing to bet that’s due to the intensity of the work under the sun. Nothing is branded on his body just yet, despite the clothing bearing the Spawn’s symbol tied haphazardly around his waist.
Suddenly, they feel all too warm, shyness invading their usually put-together self.
Azure pulls up weeds from the ground with leather-brown gloves still obviously stained by black soil. He tends to the new planters with intent. As he stands, he lets out a rough sigh, wiping his hands off onto his pants. Tide’s gaze instinctively tracks them when he begins to remove the gloves.
Something certainly must be wrong with them—they slack on their duties, they fail to resist temptation away from the Spawn, and now they feel strange, feverish in a way. Maybe they need to pray more. Maybe they’re not doing good enough. Maybe the Spawn is unhappy with them, and they need to atone through punishment. Their fingers curl into their sleeves until the fabric creases under the weight of their thoughts.
“Excuse me?” A lower voice speaks up, and Tide slowly shifts their gaze towards the sky.
Azure is much bigger. Heat radiates off him in the dewy coolness of spring, and Tide already knows they must look odd. They try to release the stress and tension on their face. “Oh. Yes, greetings.. I’m here on behalf of Teacher Amarah to oversee the gardening initiative.”
Azure’s ear flicks under his hat, and Tide now notices they’re decorated with nightshades, fake or real. That would explain the scent.. Regardless, Azure smiles softly down on them, and they feel that fluster build again. “Oh! It’s lovely to meet you, then,” and he extends a hand.
Tide flinches instinctively, and Azure is about to retract it, but they find it in them to take his hand despite the discomfort. “Of course.”
Silence falls over them both for a moment. Tide’s hand feels much warmer than usual. Their face heats up further in response.
“..You’re, um, in my way.” Azure notes simply. “Y-yes, yes, of course, my apologies—!”
Quickly, they withdraw their hand and rush off to the other side, thick robes pulling across the stones of the main path. Silently, they curse their foolishness. What they don’t expect is that, after a long moment, they feel a new presence behind them. Immediately, they turn sharply, thanks to feline reflexes.
Azure stands there like a happy dog. “Forgive me but, do I recognize you? You seem familiar.” Tide can see him vaguely sniffing the air. They clear their throat. “N.. no, no I don’t believe so.”
They re-affix a short smile onto their face. Azure considers their words for a moment, before they meet their anxious gaze with his own friendly one. “I thought I did. Well, either way..”
He pauses for a moment.
“Care to meet me again sometime?”
Tide feels their face flush again. Oh, may the Spawn bless them, for His light is all that is good and holy in this world..
They stand there in silence for a moment longer before they can speak. “I.. ah, well, I’m..” Say something, Tide! “I have a lot of duties but—I..”
“..Yes.” It may as well be summer with how hot they feel in these robes now. All they want is to go home and rest, as uncharacteristic as that is. Their face burns from a mixture of emotion. Azure smiles a bit wider at them, and it does not help in the slightest.
Somewhere in the distance, they swear they hear the church bell ring—not noon, but something to remind them of their devotion. They hear the prayers to all that is pure. Tide doesn’t recall saying goodbye, but when they come to, Azure is busy once more with the plants.
They rush out of the gardens and back into the open without thinking about it.