blair faulkner. d1. fin.

They call you The Mother.

Yet you have no children of you own. Just the falcons that you've come to raise and love, both the ones on your shoulder and the ones in the sky.

It's lonely at the manor, it's always been. All that's here is your family, the birds, and the endless amount of skeletons that are scattered underneath the ground.

And of course atop the hills.

You know you're not truly alone, but somehow you have never felt lonelier. The day she joined the sky was the day you took your rightful place on the throne. It was made of branches and broken things, but you sat there with pride and the closest thing to a smile that has ever been on your face. Ever since that day you only wear clothes as dark as a starless night and lipstick several shades darker than you victims blood.

You are in mourning.

But you dare not let the others know.

Too many people try to tear you down, to destroy the family and your good name, but Ma had taught you well. She had made your words as sharp as talons and taught you how to keep your knives even sharper. Those who still tried to cross you always wind up dead.

And the birds always eat well.

There was still so much to learn, but she left you.

She left you.

She left you.

Just like everyone always does. But you took on your duties without a falter in your stride and you sit proudly upon your throne, no matter how broken it may be. Your falcons are always close by, one on your shoulder, one circling above, and many that hide in the shadows, waiting for the signal to strike.

At least they never leave. And if they do-

They always return home.