Private The Wild Bloom

[Siel'shii Velthra]

Location: Dathomir Wilds


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The Wilds were often a place of solace, a place where Siel'shii could escape from from whatever troubles plagued her. It was a home that provided shelter from all the turmoil boiling up inside her. Often, it was the heated tensions that brought her here, the waters that were her emotions filled to the brim that threatened to overflow at any moment. Today was different. A far more daunting foe challenged the witch today, bringing with it it's own set of challenges. A particular flower was in bloom, a rare occurrence, since it could only be cultivated every ten cycles. If her calculations were correct the blossoming plant would have come to full maturation this day, only to lose its beauty within the week.

The precise location of the flower had yet to be discovered, which was a challenge of its own. Thankfully, Siel'shii knew exactly what she was looking for. A pale green stalk, raising roughly four meters in the air. The unfurled bloom would present a vibrant array of blue and orange hues, laced together in intricate designs that one must see to fully comprehend. Complex patterns adorned the flower in a raised texture. They resembled something akin to an insects wings, if that insects patterns had been taken and intertwined with another to produce something fantastically twisted by nature. It was a design that could only be explained by intricacies of life itself. There was another distinct feature that the flora had, the stench. It carried a smell of carrion, of death. Once she was close, there would be no mistaking the pungent smell.

Light filtered in from the tree line above. Lively shadows were cast along the ground, becoming actors themselves on a small scale. Gnarled trees arose from the dampened soil, bringing with them their own unique set of distinct features. Other, more thin, trees protruded from the ground. They wrapped around the others in a thorny pose, consuming everything they enveloped. Smaller flora spotted the ground, a variety of mushrooms and other fungi. The more temperate part of the forest had long been passed, as Siel'shii had found herself in the swamp.

Siel'shii was lacking her signature black as night gown today, considering where she was at. Had she been content with only searching the woodlands, it would not have been a problem. However, she 'hated' getting her nice things ruined, and this environment was not friendly, even to those who came well prepared. In place of her usual, the woman was garbed in form fitting robes and complimented appropriate footwear in the guise of boots. Even here, she would have preferred to have her feet barren of such confines, but the difficulty of the terrain and her task took precedence over feeling that connection today.

Limbs were brushed aside as her way was made throughout the swamp, carefully treading throughout the condensed surroundings. Siel'shii was close. She could feel it. What little she knew of of the Force outside of her traditional practices was not needed to sense this, but it did pick up on a vague presence. One that was unfamiliar, which brought some small concern. Due to her lack of training, it felt faint, but it was clear that whoever was nearby was much more potent than herself.

Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T​

Siel'shii Velthra
​

How many come here finding the native inhabitants and fauna so beyond their anticipation, only to die within the first few hours. The worst beast is not the animals, but the witches. Traps lay everywhere for the unsuspecting. Only the maverick might foreshadow enough to surpass a few; but in time, all crumble at the whim of the witch. She wields delirium, depression, exhaustion, and if she doesn't choose to play with her victims, she leaves the trespassers to face their end by all other means orchestrated by the nature of Dathomir.

The witch never ensnare one of her own kind, for she understands she is an endangered species amidst the galaxy. Her unspoken goal, to seed her people throughout all existence, planning a unified stand against those who would wipe them from existence, just for who they are born into being. This witch has had far too many run-ins with those of the Light to trust such outsiders.

Nature provides the means and hope for such a day, to be ultimately successful in her quest to stamp out the bigotry among foreign brethren, by means of iron fist. Today, she grants a rare, most sought bloom, currently evolved to peak condition. So much arranged to herald its arrival, from the moonflowers, to the migration of the tiniest newt species which fed upon the pests so drawn to the prize of the decade. Far too many of this plant went spoiled by nature. The witches from all around knew that time stands against them in this instance.

Time they would attempt to master!

The Wanica coven scattered throughout the wilds in their search. A single blossom could supply many. Faithful that the search party would be a success, homebound Nightsisters readied the customary festival which would ensue into the week while the herbs would be properly prepared for division.

Pom glided over the ground, hovering suspended above the murky marshlands. She had made her way far from the others, intent to cover as much land as they could manage before it becomes too late. The witch held a tiny newt cupped in her hands, and from time to time she consulted its natural inclination to know in which direction she should continue on. Glancing around her, in the direction which the newt turned its head, the Matriarch saw one from her own coven, a Nightsister corpse concealed under flowing black robes, flying over a bed of wheatgrass as a stream of smoke trailed in her wake. The Nightsister returned her attention to her tiny guide and moved forward, sensing the presence of others nearby who would share in the abundant yield harvested this day. By the way her little companion maneuvered in her hands, she knew they were close.​

 

[Siel'shii Velthra]

An uneasy feeling sunk in, bearing the weight of an anchor in her gut. The sensation grew stronger, the further Siel'shii embarked into the densely packed forestry. The marshlands themselves emitted a somber expression, compounding the growing number of presences brushing up against her mind. It was abundantly clear that she was not the only witch out here searching. That should have been expected given the circumstances of the regent she sought, but she was no less wary of whom might be encountered out here in the wilds. Still, she pressed on.

It was not fear that plagued her, but uncertainty. Witches often stuck together, bonded by a singular cause or purpose. The gathering of the coven itself was a powerful moment bound in tradition. Each of them played their part, and that was what she coveted, a place of belonging. For too long had she been absent from the affairs of her own coven. Siel'shii was out of place in her own home, resulting to seeking knowledge and purpose on her own. This feeling of uncertainty that weighed on her shoulders grew. Her mind raced with thoughts of what might occur if she were to stumble upon one of the others nearby.

The chances of that happening just doubled.

The smell of death enthralled her nostrils as the wooded area opened up into a clearing. A mound of earth arose, encircled by murky green waters. Standing atop the mound was the blooming flower, permeating its ichorous smell. Along with the way the distinctly colored petals unfurled, there was no mistaking it. The final stretch presented itself, crossing the moat like waters. Twisting in disgust, the woman's fair visage was struck with discord. There was some distance between her and the flower.

Unknown dangers lurked within and she could not simply float across. There was little choice in the matter, if she wanted to secure her harvest. The undesirable task of slogging through the water was upon her.


Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T​

Siel'shii Velthra
​

The lesser preferable aspects of nature are simply telltale signs of potency, a Nightsister's paradise presenting. The wind had shifted indeed, carrying the tiny droplet fumes along with it. The noxious odor suddenly swept through the area causing pangs of nausea at first. One accustomed to the more volatile brews took delight in such presentation and pushed aside the reactive sensation. Denizens less experienced took the plume of this rare stench as a direct affront.

The Black Bane Spiders were the first to react. Pom heard the canopy rustle as webbing lowered down with intent to entrap the unknown presence. Pom heard hissing and clicks of the creatures' throaty communication as they descended. The thick fragrance of the flower began to sting at her eyes and throat. She stopped in her tracks and waving a hand projected an illusion about herself to mask her appearance to the foliage of the surrounding area. Quietly she reached into her sling and concentrated on willing the correct potion to draw into her palm. She would unleash a pheromone that it would deter the creatures.



The blossoms location revealed sparked anticipation, for the beginning of furthering the unique magick of the Nightsisters would soon commence with a series of remarkable potions unlike the galaxy has ever seen. This gathering, there shall be experiments performed on ideas for original concoctions. Nearby someone gave out a cry of excitement, for even the Bane Black Spider and its venom is useful in a number of volatile brews.

Taking in her surroundings, Pom turned and saw another Nightsister who approached her location upon the waters. She herself cannot swim; the two and a half meter creatures on the other hand, who knows!
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