[M] The Last Supper - OPEN POSTING - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: [M] The Last Supper - OPEN POSTING (/showthread.php?tid=18487) Pages:
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- Sirius Revlis - 06-16-2011 [html]
[html] Word Count » 3+ ooc: Welcome everyone! Time to get feasting. Please read the cultural information regarding the Supper before you post - Otherwise, leap right in! PP over Eris approved by Sie <3 He had risen early that morning, as was the Hunter's ritual. A strange excitement hung in the limp morning air, sucked into the lungs and awakening the blood of the cunning Thistle King.
.siritxt {font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height:20px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px; padding:0px 0px 5px 0px; margin:5px auto; width:500px; } .siritxt .inner {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/8Hs2Q.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:122px 0px 0px 0px;} .siritxt .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:tahoma, verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify; margin:5px auto; width:100%;} .siritxt .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold; font-style:normal;} .siritxt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .siritxt b {letter-spacing:1px; } .siritxt u {text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; font-style:italic; font-variantmall-caps;} </style> [/html] - Bastion Hallow - 06-16-2011 [html] Table & Coding © Bobbi & Kiki; 389 words
Since Bastion was hanging around Salsola there was nothing placed upon his body in order to cover him. He didn't bother with such things if he were to be staying home. It was only while he went out that he dressed himself and took a scented bath. But if he were to be within the protection of the thistles then why should he worry about such things? And well, he really tried to stick around Salsola once night fell. Of course he had those times when he wasn't here. But of course he made that they were around the time for when they would all eat together. That was one thing that he always made sure that he was around for.
And it seemed he was lucky to have gotten in when he had. Though he had been hanging around Salsola now he had gotten back not long ago. He had been given enough time to strip down and clean away the blood from his hands. What he did while he was away was generally his own little secret. Of course some of it could be speculated at. And there was at least one occasion that another had witnessed that he wasn't quite as innocent as he came off. Or at least a couple other outside of his puppy. Still the number of live witnesses were minimal in this area. Or any area really. They had either been past puppies or deceased.
Bastion was glad that he had the chance to clean up before he heard the call to attend the supper. He made his way there quickly, not wanting to be late. He moved over to try to greet those present with a lick to each cheek and of course his childish nature decided that the gesture needed to be accompanied by a hug should it be allowed. Of course with greeting Sirius he ended up adding a single whispered word. "Present." The word was whispered to the Boss with an inclination of his head to indicate back the way that Bastion had come from. He didn't say anymore but moved to take his spot, choosing to sit on the other side of the Crone. He knew that she didn't like him but after what had happened prior she seemed to tolerate him a bit more at least. <style> .bashollow {margin:0px auto;width:450px;border:none;padding:10px;font-family:times new roman, sans-serif;font-size:13px;line-height:16px;letter-spacing:.5px;text-align:justify;margin-top:15px;background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v312/ ... /U7RnS.png);background-position:top middle;background-color:none;background-repeat:no-repeat;padding-top:151px;} .bashollow-ic {background-image:none;background-position:top right;background-color:none;background-repeat:no-repeat;border-top:1px solid;} .bashollow-ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;margin:0px; padding:0px;text-align:left;} .bashollow-ooc b {font-weight:bold;font-style:normal;} .bashollow p {text-indent:25px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;} .bashollow b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;} .bashollow i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} .bashollow .wotd {border-bottom:1px dotted;font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} </style> [/html] - Tlantli Kimaris - 06-16-2011 [html] Word Count→382 — Xochime took out her nose ring; figured it was a good time to get that out of the way if she's staying a family member, though it might seem strange for someone to just take out an obvious slave ring, but what people make of it is up to you. Tlantli = sitting at Eris' left. She'd been working, as was common for the Crone, in some spiritual world that sat within the realm of subconscious thought when the call came to her. Settled in her spiral room, dark pupils dilated from effects of some hallucinogenic substance, Tlantli almost didn't hear; it took a moment for the golden woman to realize what was going on in the real world. Xochime had to tap her sister's shoulder. Leaving the bloodied sacrifice on the spit before her, Tlantli rose and gathered up gifts found within the confines of the ruined human city to the south: a tarnished silver-backed mirror for Eris, a carved wooden comb for Sirius and a set of uniquely matched golden bands for the added effect of offering blessing to Eris' decision to settle on the black d'Angelo oaf. Her sister watched with the faintest traces of concern, asking if she needed help only once. Tlantli shot out denial of the most venomous kind, slinging her bag over her shoulders. It wasn't hard for the two Kimaris women to find their way to the 'table', for the scents of various animals could have drawn many a spectator. They approached with caution, Xochime walking several paces behind the Crone herself; it wasn't out of respect so much as fear. They paused as the shapes of the Boss and Auxiliary came into sight. Tlantli glanced sideways at the remnants of the slave-girl Kimaris, tapping her hose to indicate the symbol of enslavement that was still worn there before confidently crossing the ground. Xochime fumbled with the nose ring to remove it before finding a place on the far middle of the table. The petite witchdoctor halted before her leaders, removing the presents and setting them carefully on the ground beneath each; the silver mirror shone in the firelight faintly, giving a strange cast to the comb that came next. It wasn't until she was satisfied with their placement that Tlantli took her seat beside Eris — choosing not to acknowledge the man-child to her left — with all the elegant grace of a young man rather than woman. One leg was twisted to rest beneath her while the other offered a place to rest her arm, keeping her head turned in an attempt to hide her drug-addled features from the rest of the family. <style> .tk-abandon {margin:0px auto;width:450px;background-color:transparent;background-image:none;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom;border:none;padding:0px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:12px;line-height:16px;text-align:justify;margin-top:10px;} .tk-abandon .ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;line-height:15px;text-align:left;margin:2px;text-indent:0px;} .tk-abandon .ooc b {font-weight:bold;font-style:normal;} .tk-abandon .divider {border-bottom:1px dashed;} .tk-abandon p {text-indent:20px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;} .tk-abandon b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;} .tk-abandon i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} .tk-abandon u {font-style:italic;text-decoration:none;font-variantmall-caps;border-bottom:1px dotted;letter-spacing:1px;} </style>[/html] - Larkspur D'Angelo - 06-16-2011 [html] pray to your god, open your heart
+3. When he does sit it will be next to Itachi, on Sirius' right. Sirius had come to his largest Arbiter the night before, and that was when Larkspur had made his decision. This ritual, while new to him, was one that held both purpose and power within Salsola. To not face it with the same respect as he might had this been Khalif would be shameful not only to him but to his family. Given the fact that Eris had gone down that route on her own, he had no desire to follow suit. Night was the time of his patron god, and for this reason Larkspur traveled with the ram alive. Tak would demand sacrifice, and even if the Salsola members did not worship as he did, killing the beast in any sort of ritual would suffice as long as the words were spoken. Though the rite to present to the spirits was for Eris and the Crone, Larkspur would speak to the earth-demon and send him away from their home. At the very least, it would keep him at bay—Eris had welcomed Tak into her womb when she spoke ill of him and the sisters. Massive in all forms, the Optime male had dragged the ram to his home the previous evening. Rowan, before Sirius had summoned her, had scrubbed the animal clean. Larkspur had spent time making himself presentable as well; while normally dirty and scruffy, he was spotless. In the firelight his fur gleamed like that of snowflake obsidian, catching the color of the flames in a way that paled in comparison to his orange eyes. He led the ram by a halter, and the animal’s steps were stiff and nervous—only the will of the massive wolf kept it in order. He halted before the leaders of the pack, presenting the mighty ram to the pair. “For the health of Salsola,” the Arbiter said gravely, slowly, careful of his pronunciation. His eyes trailed to Eris, silently asking if she sought to perform any ritual with the animal before it was taken to the slaves. .larktext .lyrics {font-size:22px; font-weight:bold; font-family: 'Special Elite', arial, serif; letter-spacing:-1px; word-spacing:4px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;} .larktext .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-face:italic; font-size:10px; text-align:right;} .larktext p {text-indent:25px; padding:1px 1px; margin:0px;} .larktext {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:top right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: times, sans-serif; font-size:14px; line-height:14px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .larktext .separator{width:400px; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:0 auto 5px auto;} </style>[/html] - Citlali Kimaris - 06-18-2011 [html]
Word Count » 423 Out of Character Text Citlali Kimaris-Etalpalli
His sparseness from the pack would have surely been noticed by now. Then again, he wasn’t favored much compared to his Aunt Tlantli. So there was a higher possibility than he first assumed that his boyish absence had gone overlooked. Since finding serenity in the high stone tower, Citlali rarely left. He had no desire to escape to the outdoors and make acquaintances. By now, he supposed that newer Family wasn’t aware of his residence or those who had seen him around believed he didn’t have a voice at all.
By the time dusk had settled upon Salsola territory, the boy’s hands ached from his work. A shallow scar wound its way across his left palm and continued shortly before stopping above his thumb. It was still fresh, and burned from where the knife had grazed his tawny fur on accident. After the incident, the coyote continued to work on the thick band mingled with beads. The weave required deep concentration and a great blade to loosen a strand and attach a bead. Citlali flexed his injured hand and winced while he stood, feeling the stiffness in his youthful muscles. There was brief movement outside the cracked and dusty window of the tower. He made his way carefully over just in time to hear the bottomless howl of Sirius. The boy fingered his white bracelet nervously; a developing habit.
Stepping into the night was a challenge. Shadows of gathering figures headed towards the ruin could be sensed yet not quite distinguished. Citlali looked about fretfully, hands alternating between both ends of his band. He knew where the Family was all headed; Tlantli had informed him as much as she could. The feast would be great, he remembered, and all must attend on perfect manners. A knot was forming in his churning, aching, stomach. Each step brought the coyote a slash of panic and he could feel his pulse throbbing in the mark on his palm.
He reached the ruins swiftly despite his hesitant pace. The smell of blood and boiling meat was thick in the air and mingled with smoke and thistle weed. Piles of rubble were frequent outside the brick wall surrounding the makeshift table. Citlali approached the gathering place silently and tentative, similar to a rabbit hopping about fueled with fear. Breathing in the warm, bold, air, the ginger coyote made his way through a crumbling entrance. Dull green eyes spotted his half-Aunt immediately in the fire light, but still held back out of instinct. .citlali-text {font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height:20px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px; padding:0px 0px 5px 0px; margin:5px auto; width:500px; } .citlali-text .inner {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/NlmxH.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; } .citlali-text .ooc {font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify; margin:5px auto; width:500px;} .citlali-text .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold; font-style:normal;} .citlali-text .tagline {font-family:'Waiting for the Sunrise', 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:40px; padding:15px 15px 23px 0px; text-align:right; font-variantmall-caps;} .citlali-text p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:5px 10px;} .citlali-text .inner .tagline + p {text-indent:0px;} .citlali-text .inner .tagline + p:first-letter{ display:block; margin:0 5px 0 15px; float:left; font-size:60px;font-family: 'Waiting for the Sunrise', 'times new roman', times, serif;} .citlali-text b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} .citlali-text u {text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; font-style:italic; font-variantmall-caps;} </style> [/html] - Itachi Lykoi - 06-18-2011 [html]
With the retirement of a summer day entered evening, cooler in every way compared to its daylight brother. Hybrid ears swivelled to receive the melodic call of their leader, the man with the chemical eyes, reeking of delicious danger. The flawed Prince had been expecting the sound, though maintained his relaxed pace as he moved towards the ruins in utter silence, working with his stealth without rest. Two days had passed without a taste of flesh for this occasion alone. While the young blonde had decided to involve himself with the new family he had become part of, he would always struggle somewhat to enjoy larger gatherings. A solid hunger always bathed the Last Supper in a better light.
As he approached the growing group, he moved to greet the present family members and the two leaders in the appropriate way, though taking no extra step to show non-mandatory courtesy to anyone but Sirius, where he carefully evaded the poison hues as he lowered his head respectfully, momentarily exposing his neck for the Boss in a display of trust. With grace inherited from his indifferent mother, Itachi sat down on the ground to the right of the Thistle King. Pale eyelids partially veiled the vibrant sunset gaze as he watched the black giant come forth with his offer in the form of a live ram.
He saw the direction the orange gaze trailed, and could only guess. Eris had already revealed her demons, and he had watched her hungry hands dig deep into his dead father’s abdomen. This blissful lack of common morale had set fire to his consciousness, and he continued to cherish that sensation she had awakened. <style type="text/css"> .itachihilli {width:400px; background-image:url('http://www.ghostecho.net/souls/ana/itachi.png'); background-position:top center; background-color:#000; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid white;} .itachihilli2 {padding:170px 10px 10px 10px; font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; color:#C39945; line-height:15px; text-align:justify;} .itachihilli b {color:#FFE1A5; font-family:georgia;} .itachihilli p {text-indent:39px; margin:0px;} </style> - Denver Mathis - 06-18-2011 [html] Lmao, Denver is kinda out of place. xD Lemme know if this makes sense, timeline-wise and such... >> Ugh, rambly posts tonight, sorry. :| WC: 715 It had been weeks since that first meeting with Eris, but it hadn't seemed like much time at all. Denver had been entranced, enthralled, and intrigued by it all. The mysticism drew him in, captivated him. He was awestruck. Here, he felt that royal presence he had so longed for. The people here were powerful, he knew it-- in every way he desired. They were ritualistic. Denver had grown up with quite a lack of specific religious or spiritual education, and these practices were quite foreign to him. Some family friends from his early years had worshiped a god, but he failed to remember who. To him, religion was either a crutch, or a means of control, depending on which side you fell to. It was something that he had mostly avoided learning about; partly out of laziness, but also out of disinterest. He wanted nothing to do with something that would remind him of the past. The Salsola religion, though, was different. It was sacrificial, spiritual, and secretive, all in strange ways. He'd watched Eris; she was a mystery to him, still. She was closer to a divine being than anything else he'd seen. Denver had still not met their King, and was curious to see what sort of a person was fit to rule such an enchanting, mysterious kingdom. Just then, as he came to a halt in the half-shaded light of the moon, the call went up. Ears perked up, though only one stood erect. Denver turned, trying to get his bearings; he still had no idea how to navigate this bewitched, desolate ground. Back in the so-called dog kingdom, he had been displeased by the lack out outward company. Here, he knew that really, they were everywhere. Masters of stealth and disguise, they were, and he felt overwhelmed, but strongly desired to know more. He'd taken notice of their slaves with curious, heavy interst; maybe this was something he could get used to, perhaps even enjoy. His own personal slave might do him well. The ivory mutt finally made his way through the ruins, stepping carefully over the many vines and thorns that lay across nearly everything. Surely, this place had been a castle. It was not the sort of grandiose mansion he'd always dreamed of, but you could tell it had been, once. And that was good enough for Denver, for now. It's rooms were large, half-demolished buildings, overgrown with thistle and weeds. To some, it may have been ugly, but Denver often cared naught to take interest in the foliage. As he moved through the vague hallways, though, entranced by the scent of cooking meet, the scene began to grow on him. Denver did not let his curiosity get the best of him, though, still taking great care to repel dirt from his tailored clothing. It was only a matter of time, though, before his clothing would become ripped by the thorns, and he would be tossed into a fit of rage. Ice blue eyes set straight ahead as he entered the room, his short-statured body postured high and proud, but with tail low and ears back; he was intimiated, unsure, and instinctively respectful, however slight. Denver quietly surveyed the room; six were gathered. His eyes found Eris quickly, but she was surrounded by others. A pale, yellow-faced woman with eyes of fresh blood sat to one side of the dark goddess; on the other, a man who the cream-colored dog could only assume to be the King; the one they called the Boss. Sirius was his name, and Denver appraised him with hungry eyes, finding an unoccupied space at the makeshift table. He left space on either side of him, not feeling comfortable enough to get close to any of these strangers. Each of them possessed a powerful presence that he could sense. He wondered if he was capable of projecting such a thing; perhaps he did already. Pale eyes swung around the room, taking abrupt notice to the ram standing there. It looked strange, to him; brighter and cleaner than the normal dirty animal he was used to. Brows furrowed as he stared at the thing, wondering who would have troubled to clean the beast-- wasn't it going to die anyways? .denver_bull01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .denver_bull01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .denver_bull01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .denver_bull01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://img819.imageshack.us/img819/2050/bullwhip01.png); background-position:top right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style> - Pandemic D'Angelo - 06-19-2011 [html] OOC here! Table by Sie; Image from Flickr He was unfortunate enough to arrive before Salvia, and the obsidian boy felt out of place at once. But he was a big boy now and the world was not a scary place. His tail stalked his hindquarters nervously as the lupus form of the D’Angelo son approached the seated family, silver eyes rising to his father’s burning orange as he passed in a half circle , careful not to interrupt his father’s presentation. The boy’s nose twitched with curiosity, then hunger. He could love and hate these gatherings simultaneously, for as any true feast, they would eat grand meals tonight. Some of the visible anxiety evaporated as Pandemic’s belly rumbled its eager grumble for the waiting meal, for he’d rather focus on pleasant things like food.
His pale eyes took a last trip across his immediate surroundings for his sister before he greeted the the adults with a wet kiss before he found himself a seat. The Crone had taken the seat next to his mother, and his father had yet to be seated. It was also important to keep a spot open for Salvia, and he sat near the top end of the table, placing his bushy tail at the spot right next to him to signal that this was a reserved seat for someone very special. A boyish smile settled on black lips as he looked at his big and mighty father. He was truly Larkspur’s son, and though he was larger than most children his age, he had a long way to go before reaching his father’s impressive size. But soon he would be big and strong like that too!
To reach that goal though, it was important to eat. The boy’s grey eyes turned to the meal that was still being prepared, and he shut his mouth tightly, afraid he would accidentally start to drool openly. .pand-a01 .ooc {font-style:italic; } .pand-a01 p {padding:2px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;} .pand-a01 b {color:#FFFFFF; letter-spacing:-.2px; } .pand-a01 {background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2010d ... emic02.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #000000; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#C4C4C4; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:450px; text-align:justify; padding:250px 0px 10px 0px; } .pand-a01-border {width:454px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; margin:0 auto;} </style>[/html] - Magnolia Takekuro - 06-19-2011 [html] Mel: Like I said in the PM, I’m going to pretend that magz has hung out with larkspur a few times before now and and has been learning about the pack.
words:309 It seemed as if the land whispered at night. Magnolia had noticed, more than once, that in the dead of night, the packlands were busy and full of activity. The silver-haired female had kept a low profile, meeting up with Larkspur occasionally to learn about the new land she called home. Those meet ups showed the girl that this land was full of secrecy and horror. She didn’t mind it, though; the eeriness made her feel more aware of her surroundings. She felt that the lands were magical, pulsating even. An unfamiliar call rang out. The girl froze, wondering if she was invited to the gathering. She hadn’t been on the land for too long, and she had been too cowardly to meet the Boss yet. Instead, she learned from Larkspur. The family dinners had come up in conversation, and while she was told she was invited, the young girl’s nerves paralyzed her. She hesitated, mind whirring as she decided whether or not to go. At long last, she reasoned it would be poor behavior to not show up. Magnolia had scouted out the Ruins before today, and so it wasn’t impossible for her to find the area before too long. As she finally arrived, her heart sunk. She was late. Everyone seemed to know where to sit except for her. Jade eyes averting any other pairs, the optime girl froze as soon as she came into sight of the others. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward to the Family after a moment. She made sure to be on her best behavior or now. “Hello,” the teenager said softly, submitting to the Boss, Auxiliary, and everyone else. She hesitated for a moment before taking a seat next to the blonde male. She remembered him from Cour des Miracles; she had seen him out and about once or twice in the packlands. .zero-clamantis p {padding:0px 10px 5px 10px; margin:0px; text-indent:30px;} .zero-clamantis b {color:#7c4957; font-family: times, serif; font-size:13px;} .zero-clamantis {border:1px solid #544d3d; font-family: tahoma,sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#544d3d; text-align: justify; margin:0px auto; margin:5px auto; background-color:#83a83f; background-image:url(http://zero.sleepyglow.net/images/otras ... mantis.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:150px 0px 5px 0px; width:450px;margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] - Salvia Eternity - 06-19-2011 [html]
Salvia is in her optime form, yaaay!
<style type="text/css"> There was a good reason that Salvia was late; she had been fretting endlessly about her appearance since her father had warned her about the meeting. Something truly magnificent was going to happen. She intended to make sure that she looked appropriate when she asked for her right of passage, when she shed her puppy rank and was fully indoctrinated into the pack she called family. At six months old her body reflected her adolescence all too well—especially in her newly found Optime form. While she had waited patiently for her father’s slave to finish grooming him, Salvia had been persistent in her secretive desire to gain the same. Rowan trusted the girl enough to meet with her without Larkspur knowing, and the two had worked tirelessly to ensure that Salvia glistened. When Rowan had been summoned Salvia had remained. This was why when the second call came she had tarried, but finally the lingering demand and fear she would be late hit her. In a near-panic the teenager moved towards the meeting place, her still large paws traveling at a brisk pace. Sure enough, when she arrived most of the pack was assembled. Yet Salvia carried herself with all the pride that the daughter of a Queen would do; her head was high and her shoulders set. Her fur gleamed like her father’s, but it was an earthy color only slightly lighter than the boss. Dark hair fell to her shoulders, perfect but still wild, and vibrant acid eyes gleamed out from her sharp visage. As per custom, she greeted her superiors with silent respect, but retreated to her brother’s side as her father remained awaiting whatever magic their mother would perform. .saltext b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .saltext .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-face:italic; font-size:11px; text-align:center;} .saltext p {text-indent:25px; padding:1px 1px; margin:0px;} .saltext {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:top right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:14px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .saltext .separator{width:400px; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:0 auto 5px auto;} </style>[/html] - Eris Eternity - 06-22-2011 [html] Word Count → 746 The hybrid woman peered over the food set before them with pleasure glinting in her chartreuse eyes, though she would not have complimented Molca or Rowan on their skills. They were objects intended to perform such duties and they had done so satisfactorily; they were unworthy of praise. The sable hybrid looked upon the feast with hunger growling in her belly nonetheless, and her mouth watered faintly, though she reigned herself in until more had assembled themselves. She was ravenous lately, and it was not a secret to Eris as to why -- she did not feed herself alone these days. The earthen-hued male lifted his voice, the musical and light call of the coyote, though unmistakable in its command. Everything had been set forth before them. The coyote looked to Molcaxitl, who stood twiddling her thumbs and peering down at her feet with vermillion eyes. The hybrid attempted to command her with a gesture, but when this failed to catch the woman's attention, the coyote resorted to a low growl, just brief enough for Axi and Rowan both to peer upward from their duties. The chartreuse eyes of The Auxiliary were for Axi only, however, and the tawny coyote scurried away quickly, fading from Eris's interest immediately. Instead, she turned back toward their gathering, peering over the felled trees. The newest slave had been put to this purpose -- he was stupid and rather easily directed, and the sable coyote was appreciative of this. He did not seem to realize, however, that he was a slave -- it was likely to get his tongue cut out. The sable coyote had attended to his piercing herself, botching the job half-way. Darijus, as he was called, hadn't been able to keep from yowling and yammering, but he had withstood it all the same, believing it to be a testament to his devotion to the pack. The coyote had not been able to stifle her laughter at that. They filtered in one by one, her pack, and she greeted each with equal fervor, returning the nuzzles that were offered with her own. She beckoned to Citlali as he lingered on the edge of their gathering, waving him forward warmly. When Larkspur made his way forth, the coyote peered at the ram appreciatively, only smiling at him and giving a slight nod of her head to indicate the slaves might take the creature. Her children assembled, Pandemic still in his four-legged form, while Salvia graced them with her two-legged one. The coyote gazed in brief appreciation on the strange thing that was her daughter with two legs. She would be an adult sooner than Eris knew, and the coyote marveled at this for a moment, stewing over it silently as her eyes fell to the meat. It would not be long before the cycle started over again, though -- the children in her belly would be born soon enough, and the sable hybrid would care for them as she had Salvia and Pandemic and even Wretch, brief as the pallid girl's lifetime had been. Eris believed her to be dead, or at least far enough away that they were unlikely to see her again anytime soon. She had gone so very far while she was so young, after all. The hybrid often thought of the pale girl, and tonight was no different -- she should have been beside her siblings. Eris would not let Wretch's absence disturb her good night, however -- it was done and long over with, and her chartreuse eyes flickered to Sirius, though they were away again just as soon. She would wait at his command to eat, but a murmur at her side caught the sable woman's attention, and Molca leaned forward to present the sable woman with three bottles of alcohol. Eris was not much of a drinker, but she trusted the slave's instincts, and saw that the woman had brought forth dark liquid, their bottles tinted a dark green that made the reddish liquid inside appear black. The coyote woman took them and placed them on the table herself, her offering to the pack -- the slave would not have the glory for that. She smiled faintly, knowing the other gifts -- the ones she would present to Larkspur later -- were not far behind, either. Though she itched to divulge news and announcements of their intent to the others, she would not speak of them yet; they needed to eat first. hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds
.sie-blanktext4 {font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/lu2Pu.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:0px 0px 5px 0px; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:100%; } .sie-blanktext4 .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px; text-align:justify; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:100%;} .sie-blanktext4 .tagline {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:11px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center; padding:10px 0px 0px 0px; } .sie-blanktext4 .tagline .sub {font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; font-style:italic; } .sie-blanktext4 .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold; font-style:normal;} .sie-blanktext4 p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .sie-blanktext4 b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} .sie-blanktext4 u {text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; font-style:italic; font-variantmall-caps;} </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 06-22-2011 [html] Word Count » 5+ ooc: Thank you all for coming! Time to get our FEAST onnnn. It was not long before the first arrived. The boy, light of feet and pale of fur, pulled himself from the shadows beyond the stone circle and approached. The King stilled, his gaze direct on the manchild, pleased as the bizarre youth displayed appropriately demure behavior. He had been wary of Bastion initially, dismayed by his apparent lack of control. But Eris had stood by her choice in the Arbiter, and it had not been long indeed until Sirius had found value in the boy's... 'Talents'. As he whispered his wicked word, the Thistle King rewarded the youth with a sharp smile, his venomous gaze glancing back the way the boy had come.
.siritxt {font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height:20px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px; padding:0px 0px 5px 0px; margin:5px auto; width:500px; } .siritxt .inner {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/8Hs2Q.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:122px 0px 0px 0px;} .siritxt .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:tahoma, verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify; margin:5px auto; width:100%;} .siritxt .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold; font-style:normal;} .siritxt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .siritxt b {letter-spacing:1px; } .siritxt u {text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; font-style:italic; font-variantmall-caps;} </style> [/html] - Jeremiah Ezekial - 06-23-2011 edit: =flails, edits!= word count :: 688 [html]
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