Within her was a beast. Salvia did not know it yet, as she would soon, but the idol on the knife would become her power animal in all sense of the word. When she traveled by way of mescaline and peyote, she would travel as a tiger. When she went to kill her sister, it would be as a tiger. Terrible power existed within her, hungry and ever desiring more.
For now, though, she was still a little girl who was desperately seeking to be told she was right. Sirius, though stiff and unwelcoming, gave her enough leeway that she knew he cared. It was enough to prick her and plant seeds that she, ignorant of her body and what the heat her in belly meant, did not understand. Separated with little grace, Salvia resumed her attentive position, eyes bright and tail wagging behind her slowly. She craved attention and she craved praise. She gathered both from him, drinking in the poison eyes so that she might one day grow immune to such a thing.
“Thank you,” she said softly, and turned to leave. Her walk was swift and silent, and by the time she had returned to daylight she all but flew towards the places where her parents lived. She would find them, then Pan, and if he did not mind her presence, she would sleep through the day with him by her side.
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