the crumbling queen

Sirius Revlis · 05-13-2011, 08:08 AM

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ooc: eeee! bobtail siri!
Word Count » 5+

He walked with a slight limp and the air of someone not to be disturbed. The bear had scarred his ribs, and although thick umber fur covered those neat incisions it was difficult to keep from wincing. A little bruised and battered, the Revlis male seemed in a positively sour mood. There was a strange lack of balance to his usually silent stride - Where a thick, proud plume had once been held high over taught rear, now there was merely a stubborn tuft, like those to be found on the haunches of a stag. The bear had taken his handsome tail, and in return, the Hunter had taken its life.

Still, when walking on two legs the lack of a long tail did not bother him as much, for height and gaze alone could define his superiority. Those he passed amongst the ruins were suitably submissive, and the bitterness to his face was soothed slightly by the swell of lusty pride. Salsola - His Salsola - Had come to be. Time favored the cunning male, as it would then favor those he held close. The Family would profit, Siri would see to it.

There was much to be done, yet, and his meager wounds irritated the male profusely, for his strong distaste for laziness was not hypocritical. However, the male had plenty to keep his surprisingly elegant hands occupied in his den, where the slain bear remained. Its flesh had been eaten and offered to those of the pack, who knew not enough of this land of theirs to hunt proficiently. The liver, a large and somewhat tasty organ, had been wasted on Eris - However, it was a waste he had been somewhat happy to make, for the charcoal woman's glee at the gift had pleased him substantially. The great dark pelt was in the laborious process of hiding, sheering the remaining flesh from beneath the thick brown fur and curing it with boiled fat.

When it was done, the vain creature had in mind for himself a handsome coat, thick and warm to fight the icy winds that rolled off the ocean into their untamable land. There was the soft, lighter-colored underbelly, which for now the Boss would sleep on, until he saw fit to give it away. The head had been given to Larkspur, with whom the brooding leader had come to an understanding. The man had proven his worth, and his loyalty was a valuable asset.

That left only one remaining, whom he wished to gift. As he rounded one of the crumbling stone sentinels, she bloomed into view hunkered over her more recent hunt. In spite of his previous annoyance, a crocodile smile immediately lit the new King's dark features. "My dear Crone, whatever are you doing?" As usual, his tenor tones ran smooth, sensual and bemused, luring her graces with a swipe of acidic eyes. The smile stiffened slightly as his leanly muscular arms crossed over his chest, placing strain on the hidden scrapes and bruises on his ribs. However, the pain only flashed temporarily through calculative eyes, and the male's bobtail wagged once behind him.

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