rise again: to come back to life, to believe that the dead will rise again

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat the cycle.

The snake coiled itself tighter around her neck, the pressure no longer a dismissible nuisance but something painful now, something that caused the tears that already spilled from red eyes to come harder, harder and faster. The creature seemed to possess no regard for Cleo's comfort, more so intent on unhinging its mouth and eating her whole. Was she going to die? Were one of the reptiles that she loved so dearly set on claiming her life? She wished her father were there to save her, or Aita, or Sylvina, or Katherine... Someone... Anyone. She wasn't ready to exchange life for death. She wasn't ready to leave her family

And then, the pressure released, the body of the boa constrictor twitching as it fell to the ground. Eshe had returned, those glowing golden eyes of hers full of malice as she looked first upon her most recent victim and then, Cleo. Her vision had been fading to black when the mamba struck, elongated fangs easily sinking into the long torso of the constrictor. They called a black mamba's bite the kiss of death, it's survival rate so low that most didn't make it for thirty minutes before succumbing to an inevitable death. The snake at Cleo's paws would suffer for that long, she figured, as punishment for touching her. She return Eshe's stare with a smile that quickly faltered, the snake anything but relieved.

Cleo blinked a few times, confusion embracing cinnamon and gold colored features as she gently extended an arm as an offer for Eshe to rejoin her. She was light headed and could barely breathe, at the verge of passing out at any moment. The world suddenly seized around her and Cleo, unable to maintain her balance, stumbled to the ground, almost falling on Eshe. For a moment, her companion seemed larger, more menacing. Every shadow that fell from her appeared to grow darker, an almost wicked grin splitting her features as a great mouth parted and revealed fangs dripping with venom.

Little mamba, you've disgraced yourself.

Her words rang loud and clear in the back of Cleo's mind, a whimper escaping her shivering form as she tried (tried and failed) to scramble backwards. She couldn't move much less form a comprehensible thought though, fear coursing through her veins and causing her blood to run cold. You're not a snake. You couldn't defend yourself. I gave you the gift of venom for what? You to struggle and gasp for breath the moment one of your own revolts against you? Snake Charmer, you are not. You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I should have let the boa strangle the life out of you.

She could see the constrictor now, its ghostly form slithering closer and closer to her, invisible tendrils once more wrapping themselves around her trembling frame and forcing the air from her lungs. [color=#445544]"Eshe..." She choked out, a rosetted paw reaching out to perhaps grasp her companion - her friend - and gain some respite from this horror. But the mamba did not move, golden gaze now a glowering black, satisfaction radiating so overwhelmingly from her that Cleo could not help but feel her own grasp on reality slip. Why wasn't Eshe helping her? And better yet, why was the snake that she had just killed once more trying to strangle her? She didn't understand, couldn't understand, her sobs disconnected and broken.

Fate, in many ways, was cruel. It had constructed a divine path for Cleo, had created her with greatness in mind and yet, she had fallen. Darkness had engulfed her, had stolen her away, and now she belonged to no one but her poisonous snakes, snakes that would turn on her if she dared to oppose them. Nobody defied fate though, and nobody escaped what was eventually inevitable. Cleo might have succeeded in rewriting her destiny, but her end would still remain. Fortunately, it was far from time for the girl to take her last breath. Fate was cruel, yes, but it still pitied the young. It saw this child, corrupted because of her innocence and it saw the possibility of redemption.

What Cleo was currently experiencing - the ghostly apparition of the boa - was not real. She had long since fainted from oxygen loss, her frame still, breathing shallow, as Eshe worriedly coiled around her, hisses hardly loud enough to garner any attention. As wicked as the mamba might be, they were still connected and she could not afford to see the little bengal fall so soon. Cleo was far from returning to the conscious world though, far too engulfed in the hallucination of the boa to fight for reality. In her eyes, this was reality and Eshe was poised and ready to kill her just as she had the constrictor.

Rise.

Rise.

Rise.

Rise.

Rise again.

She tried to fight off the boa but her world (a world that didn't exist) was fading away too, fragments of the lush rainforest falling away in indecipherable chunks. A scream, she was screaming, and oh how her throat felt raw. The ghostly boa had disappeared and now, Cleo was merely existing in a never ending blackness, the only source of light two, unblinking golden eyes. Eshe. Eshe's eyes. Paws that could suddenly move again would carry her closer and closer to the pair of eyes only for them to move further and further away from her. A fruitless cycle. Just as breathing had been before Eshe had saved her.

Then why was she even trying?

She couldn't rise again, not even as the words repeated themselves over and over in her head.

Rise.

Rise.

Rise again.

Back in the waking world, Cleo's form twitched, trembling aggressively even as Eshe tried to make the tremors subside. She could sense her companion and yet, the tiny bengal was too far away to be reached, her dreams and hallucinations much too powerful even for the ancient Eshe. All she could do was wait. Wait and hope that Cleo did not come face to face with her end. Wait and hope that Cleo returned to her, returned to all of them.

Eshe wouldn't say that she loved her - love was an intangible concept made up to extend comfort to those struck by loneliness after all - but there was no denying the remarkably twisted tenderness that she felt towards the young Cleo.

It was truly a shame that her task was to destroy her.

(wow tl;dr bc me? making sense? it's less likely than you think!
essentially, cleo was attacked by one of her boa constrictors and eshe saved her by biting it and killing it. cleo passed out from oxygen loss but is hallucinating subconsciously and saw eshe berating her for being a disgrace. the ghost of the boa also resumed its attack and will continue to haunt her every time she sleeps. her currently injuries are bruising to the neck as well as breathing problems/light headedness)

Rosemary was fond of all of Pincher's children - though especially the girls, though she loved Coldblue just as much now that he proved himself intelligent and magic-inclined. Cleo, the snake charmer, seemed potentially witch-like to the pale ocelot, and so she kept peaking an eye out every once and a while to check on the kid's progress. This one, like Aita and Katherine, seemed like a good candidate if she wanted to build a witch coven here.

She would've responded to Papercutter's with urgency no matter who he called her for, but hearing that Cleo needed help seemed to set off additional alarm bells inside her head. Because, really, what protective witchy aunt wouldn't feel flush with terror when a niece got struck down?

Hurrying over with her loaded satchel clinking with the noises of tins smashing together, Rosemary quickly settled down next to the fainted bengal kitten. She mostly ignored the dead boa constrictor and Esme, not too concerned with the dead snake and Cleo's favorite pet; Rosemary probably should've been concerned, but her fear for Cleo outweighed any other fears that might've floated around in her head. Tail lashing, she quickly touched her paw to Cleo's neck to feel for the girl's pulse. Breathing out a heavy sigh, she mumbled, "She's still alive, good." Sometimes bodies tended to twitch, which was unsightly, and also made Rosemary tend to check for a pulse regardless of slight movements or twitches. After all, corpses could do all sorts of terrifying things - like give birth.

"Cleo? Cleo, can you hear me?" the ocelot called out loudly, trying to encourage the twitching girl to rouse into wakefulness. Rosemary didn't want to use more insane methods to get the half-deaf girl to respond, so she started with this instead of smacking the girl's face like a terrified idiot.