forty six and two

Eris Eternity · 05-25-2011, 05:05 AM

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Word Count » 402
No biggieee. ^^ <3

the world shudders as the worm gets its wings

“No, but it was expected of me, and so I did it,” she stated easily, shrugging her shoulders. Perhaps half a lie; she had wanted the wolf out of her, but she might not have said it was a desperate sort of desire. In truth, Eris was indifferent to her blood then as she was now -- she had simply desired to be seen as coyote, and if bleeding a spiral into her flesh helped those in Eterne view her as such, she would have endured the process twenty times over. It had given her over to an odd tolerance of pain, one that might not have been expected in a creature that seemed as delicate as Eris at times. She was hardly a prim and proper lady, but there were moments of squeamishness within the sable hybrid, and she had not been able to so much as kill a rabbit before she'd been instructed in the hunt by Sirius.

Her eyes went stony again at the wolf's question about what she saw, but an empty smile slid across her muzzle all the same. Eris nearly remained quiet at the question, though the answer did well up from somewhere in her, unstoppable. “Things like the witch-woman saw.” Her voice was even, though guarded -- she had been questioned sharply before as she had been accepted easily, and neither reaction surprised her. Though Eris would have balked and sharply rejected the label of shaman, witch-woman, even Tezcatli -- she might have been in another life, far back in Eterne, but that had been another eon entirely, or so it seemed. What she was now possessed no name, and she was hesitant to apply one. She had adopted her practices and beliefs from various sources, and she appropriated new ones still, finding her spirituality expanding and amorphous thing. It hardly mattered where she adopted and stole from; what did not fit was left behind, and the pieces that did were neatly stripped and sliced and then spliced to her pre-existing beliefs.

“The work shows nicely. This is an art you practice?” she asked, wondering whether it was something the woman did herself or simply knew of. She did not remember what pastes the old witch-woman had mixed, and she would not have been able to duplicate the ritual, but she could feign it well enough. Scars were easier to come by than tattoos, however.

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