Before the Work is Done

Yi TaeKyung · 03-11-2012, 10:24 AM

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^w^;;
WC: 550

The wet, pierced nose twitched as the tenebrous fae drank in the scent of the other slave. He smelled like fish, like the ocean. The scent of the sea struck her, invoking a memory that was becoming long forgotten. Though it had not occurred long ago, the shattered mind did not seem to deem the memory relevant enough to actively retain it. The white orbs flickered with something—was it nostalgia, or was it simple, sanguine thirst? The Korean Jindo-wolf remembered that long-ago night. Flashes of the fight came forth in fragments, her power and her victory. But then she had been more merciful. Then her soul had not been shattered, nor had her soul been haunted by His shade. And her mercy had nearly proven fatal. One of two had struck her skull—had shattered her mind. The Sea. The sea had swallowed her whole, determined to drain her life and strength from her until she were dead. And the Sea had thrown her limp body upon the shores to allow her to slowly fade into death. But Salvia had discovered her, had taken her, had spared her life, and had taken her freedom.

But this memory did not linger at the surface long. It was but a mere moment in time before retracting into the forgotten depths of her mentality. Forgotten and yet remembered. The Sea. The male slave’s scent reminded her of something. Yet she could no longer recall…

The male slave was immediately submissive to her. The Slave of the Flame was content to be submissive to the ranked ones of the pack, and to especially serving of Salvia, who had given her many freedoms in return. But to other slaves she felt no empathy. The black furred fae was inherently a fighter, a dominator. Her shattered mind was accepting of Salvia’s authority and that of the pack, accepting of the ring that had been forcibly pierced at her septum. But when the white orbs beheld other rings, she felt that there was no equality. Her fighting prowess moved her lupine instincts. She became aggressive.

Mildly satisfied by the male slave’s wariness, the Slave of the Flame approached slowly. Her posture was straightened, but her posture did not immediately claim dominance. Those black, hornlike auricles straightened, the black plume falling behind her more naturally. “넌 뭐야?” The exotic, Korean tones lingered quietly in the air. The black lips twitched in the beginnings of a mirthless smile. Lunar orbs, fathomless, met the male’s shamrock gaze. “What you do here?” The broken English did not diminish any threat that may have lingered beneath those exotic tones. It was as if she considered attacking. She understood, however, that slaves were property of the pack, if not the property of individual ranked wolves (such as herself); to kill a slave was to be disrespectful of the pack. She did not want to have her fighting privileges revokes, nor needless punishments harming her weaponesque body. But she did not care much for what he was here for. Perhaps there was a social inadequacy that the shattered mind did not seek to correct. She interacted very little with the other slaves. Save for the slaves accompanying each other, she did not partake in social habits. The black plume waved thoughtfully behind her.

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