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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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Form
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Location
 Salsola |
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Date: July 1st, if okay? Time: Dusk! Words: 566 | |
The hybrid was not used to hunting in her Optime form. She was clumsy and uncoordinated, and already heavy with child, it did not make her task any easier. Still, the sable-shaded woman did her best, eventually managing to cuff a rabbit with the bumbling assistance of Molcaxitl. The tawny woman was hardly trained in hunting, but she had at least managed to scare rabbits in Eris's general direction. After three tries, they had only one bunny, its summer coat half-shed and still clinging and clumping in bits to its back and hindquarters. The coyote woman held it by the ears and neck in one hand, the back legs in the other. It needed to be alive, and there was no sense of it twisting and fighting until it snapped its own neck.
She walked back to her home in the ruins with Molca in silence. When they had passed the entryway, the woman turned toward her slave, holding the rabbit out. “If you let it go, we will cut you open instead,” she threatened as the slave's shaking hands reached out to take the rabbit. The Auxiliary's chartreuse gaze burned in the slave-girl a moment, watching as the rabbit attempted to buck and fight her grasp. The tawny coyote held it steady, however; she was at least experienced in slaughtering prey captured for her, and this was a task she could handle for the moment. “Bind it.” Her command was rough, and Molca set to stringing the rabbit's legs with rope of dried intestines.
The coal-hued woman set to work preparing their spread, lovingly setting the bone dagger out on a piece of rabbit's hide. The grass inside of her home was thin, and parts of it were bare where she'd pulled up weed and especially long patches, but the dirt was firm enough, and a rich shade of black. It would grow again soon enough. Beside the dagger, she set an especially large chunk of amethyst. Whether or not she took stock in the old ideals of Anathema, the Nyx canine had told her these stones might increase spirituality. When Molca had performed her task, she murmured Eris's name quietly, and the woman turned, finding the rabbit expertly tied. It trembled, but no longer thrashed -- it could not. The woman nodded, and dismissed the slave with a wave of her hand. Slaves were unworthy of witnessing magic. “Send Salvia to me,” she told the slave.
The coyote moved toward the chest where she kept her belongings. The only one she had at the moment was small, a hole rotted into its bottom. It served its purpose, however, and she pulled the skull-mask from its place lovingly, setting it on the ground beside her as she reached in for the fox-fur cloak. These were things she adored, things Larkspur had given her. The hybrid stared at them a long moment before she draped the cloak about her shoulders, tying the dried paws together. The skull-crown she set upon her head gingerly, the sharp teeth sitting against her flesh. Smiling faintly, the woman whirled around, the cape swirling after her movement. It was warm, and it would be warmer still when the fire burned, but warmth and fever were good for magic.
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