tell them that she's not sacred

Eris Eternity · 05-18-2010, 01:51 AM

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Word Count :: 470

The sable-furred Lykoi hardly minded the rain. In the desert, there had not been very much rain at all—sometimes during the winter, there would be great storms that lasted for days, soaking the earth with moisture—but beyond that, the Eterne area saw little precipitation. Eris had never experienced a cold winter—she had been raised in the desert, the land of perpetual sunshine. She had never seen snow herself prior to making the journey northwards—she had only seen it once or twice on her way to this very place, even, and it had only lingered on the ground a day or two, whisked quickly away by warmth. Eris had never seen deep cold and true winter in her life.

Eris was not as interested in her surroundings as some. She had never lived in a true house before, but it was the most similar analogy to the cave-homes she had dwelled in in Eterne. Unlike the Grimwell caverns where most of the clan dwelled, the caves in her old lands had not been natural. Men had once carved them into the red rock, and the Luperci had continued the task almost a decade after humanity's demise. The caves were far older than the last living human, however—they'd been created centuries before the virus had even begun to be conceived. Still, she could not remain pent up in her room for too long, and the sable-furred coyote was quick to slip out of the garage, heading down the loft stairs from the passageway on the second floor and out into the sunlight.

The earth was still vaguely damp from the week's rain; some of the grass was still patchy with clinging drops of water. It was not so early that there should still be dew on the ground—after all, the sable-furred hybrid rarely rose before noon. Today her wandering brought her to the center of the territory, as natural as the rest of it—the smell of water and the sound of it running drew the coyote woman's attention, and the Optime woman picked up a strange scent, not recognizing it at first. Eris was a rather social creature, though, and she would seek this one out—her packmates could teach her things, and there was always the chance this was some distant family member she had yet to meet.

The tawny-furred man was seated in a rather relaxed pose, a clear bottle in his hands, filled with some kind of clear liquid. Interest flared in the chartreuse-colored eyes of the woman, and she approached boldly, looking over the unfamiliar canine. She stopped several feet away, neither smiling nor frowning, peering at him with interest. “What do you have there?” she asked, mistaking it for liquor. She was never averse to a swig of good liquor.

Table by Jimjamz!!!

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