I feel the air rush out from the center

Tlantli Kimaris · 07-31-2011, 01:07 PM

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mall-caps;font-variantmall-caps;letter-spacing:4px;">THE SPARK OF DAWN

The warmth of his blood stained her fingers, a thing that was so familiar that it seemed right. Not because it was his blood. Because sacrifice was her greatest profession, and animals all bled the same way. So many animals had stained her golden fur, turning the sunlight shade a tarnished gold that washed away in the end. Still, she had begun to notice that they were darker, richer, than the rest of her — the lives of so many coloring them a more saturated shade. It was strange.

While she went on about family and blood, she didn't see the orange eyes of the Arbiter watching her, studying her. Her own eyes focused on the bleeding wound — it was more important than the rest of her surroundings. Some final lines were made, going over an already defined shape one last time, as he offered his own insight in the coyote way. His sentiments caused her to look up once more, focusing on his face with subtly narrowed gaze. Clever? Yes, they were clever, but did it really offer her the ability to be whatever she wished? The narrowed eyes closed and she released one of her strange, glassy laughs into the air. "That ess silly indeed, Lahrkspare; Aye could not be ay bird if Aye wanted to be ay bird, could Aye?"

And then as quickly as it came, her mirth was gone, left with stoney seriousness as she focused her gaze on him again. "Whatever magik she thinks you haft, ahnd whatever magik she has hersahlf...they ahre not the same. You should be careful, Lahrkspare; mixing magik, playing with fayte, these ahre dangerous things. You risk more than jchust yoursahlf by trying." It was known that she did not approve of her non-sister and the woman's mate, but she would not openly condemn them. Eris was a grown woman. Eris was a smart woman. But Larkspur had his own life, his own culture, that was far different from the beliefs Eris had grown to understand in Eterne — though she could make no true estimate of what Eris took from Larkspur himself, she knew Eris as a mirror of the Atototzli, and an uneasy knot had settled in the pit of her stomach as she worried about Momotztli's wrath should Eris' venture fail.

Words of wisdom finished, the remaining alcohol was poured over the wound, cleaning it of the blood that had been there. "We ahre finished." There was no goodbye as she collected what she had been using, moving to return it to its proper place. If he wanted to stay, so be it, but she had a sacrifice to finish and peyote to snort again.

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