a comforting magick

Myrika Tears · 10-17-2011, 09:05 PM

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The tawny canine had been quietly observing. She did this normally, of course, but on this mission, the tan hybrid had been specifically tasked with keeping an eye on Sage and the leaders of this foreign Ichika pack. Myri knew nothing of any foreign packs, and she was nervous; in all likelihood, this contributed to her silence. This Razekiel was her blood, true enough -- but so was most of Inferni, too. She didn't trust anyone based solely on blood. Kharma had warned against this too many times for Myrika to fall prey to that.

Valkyrie sat with a whuff of air from her lungs, and Myrika's turquoise gaze shifted toward the girl. Myrika was almost certain Valky was her age or even younger -- why was she so tired, then? Myrika did not comment or ask, but sidled a bit closer to her traveling companion, offering forth a waterskin and a smaller pouch which contained jagged squares of thinly-sliced meat. Myri had smoked and salted it herself, and she was quite fond of the taste. Biting in was like biting into smoky fire and salted ocean itself.

The tawny woman nodded a non-committal response toward Sage, but swung her provisions toward the other woman after Valkyrie had her turn, too. Beautiful, sure -- Myrika could agree, but she was not bowled over by these lands. Scenery rarely captured her -- the tawny coyote was generally much more interested in her compatriots. This had arisen from a lifetime of watching; she had needed to observe her peers to ascertain whether or not they were mocking her in youth, and this had translated to a general wariness and a gift for social observance in adulthood. A twinge of suspicion pinched somewhere in her ribcage, and the tawny woman squirreled this notion away for later, finding it curious but unable to force it to germinate into a fully-fledged thought.

They didn't have to wait long -- a dark gray man and a piebald woman appeared, the former charging forth to encircle Sage in a hug. Apprehensively, Myrika stepped back toward Valky, quite fearful she would be subject to the same treatment for one fleeting instant. She didn't have to worry, however, as the man -- Razekiel, as she had already assumed -- introduced himself to her and Valkyrie with far less fanfare. Myrika smiled almost grimly, fresh nervousness still fluttering in her chest. The piebald woman spoke softly, and Myrika was put at ease by the kindnes of her tone.

Sage was excited. She should be -- Razekiel was her father, and Myrika had reacted much the same upon seeing Kharma again. She smiled thinly at the thought, too caught in the moment to allow the memory of her father to completely lift her apprehension. This was a good thing, though -- Myrika needed her wits about her for this mission, and edginess was useful at times.

Myrika Tears, she offered politely, the smile she offered touching her blue-green eyes. Good to meet you and Ichika, she said, offering her own imitated bow, inclining only her head to the earth and lifting it back upward quickly enough. She wondered what this "namaste" word meant, though she did not inquire, fearing it would be rude.

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