Sweet as Sugar // Agathe

[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; color: black;"]Agathe was not entirely sure how she felt about the Ascendants. On one hand, this place had become her sanctuary. She had been accepted with little to no question and welcomed as if she had lived here her entire life. The atmosphere, despite the frequent deaths and troubles with that other group she didn't care to remember the name of right now, was pleasant and day by day, she felt the ice around her heart melt a little more. But there was no denying her allure to the darkness that shrouded her past. She did not miss her clan and her sisters per say, but wished that the events that had led her to joining the Ascendants had never transpired. Now, she was entirely alone despite her blood oath and left with a nasty reminder of her matron's - her grandmother's - violence.

At least the wound had healed quickly in the recent days, the bandages that once encircled her side forgone as she set out on a patrol that day. The wind licked at her fur and she absolutely relished in its chill, a rare and genuine smile flashing only briefly upon her features. Perhaps the Ascendants would undo the creature her grandmother had so carefully raised. Perhaps they would finally take the monster out of her and banish it to the darkest shadows of her mind. She had been careful to keep herself in check so far, but she feared that the scent of blood and the promise of battle would lull out the real Ironbeak Heir. The part of Agathe that she neither loved nor hated but simply accepted for all of her benefits and faults.

But the last thing Agathe wanted to think about right now was who she really was, no, those thoughts were not fit for a morning walk or a... Oh no... Was there really a child out here?

The Lunar Lieutenant would abruptly stop as Clementine came into view, the wheeze of her breath as loud as a siren to her. Was she okay? Was she supposed to be out here? Why could she not for the life of her muster up any true worry? Darkness help her, she was terrible with children. But if her breath came that hard to her then... Hm, the poor thing must be sickly then. That understanding did strike a chord within her, features softening almost immediately as she forced herself to move closer to the child. She was by no means a gentle looking creature and yet, in that moment, maybe Agathe had finally been successful in appearing soft.

"Are you supposed to be outside?" She inquired, voice blunt and hard and completely different from the delicate look that embraced her features, "What's your name, witchling?"