sometimes you forget where the heart is

Eris Eternity · 01-12-2012, 09:49 AM

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(1027)
WORD. Especially because I have bitten off more than I can chew with SoSu threads. <_< ♥♥♥ Also ignore the first like. Eight paragraphs of this. SoSu dribble/Molcaxitl character development. 8|

Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

The dark woman departed from Clover, intending to meet up with the woman shortly thereafter. She hurried on to the storage, though not so much that anyone viewing her would think her passage odd and impede her by throwing questions at her. While she could have easily rebuffed any questions with only a snarl, the sable-furred woman did not wish to raise any alarm, nor did she wish to cause offense to her fellow Salsolians. In the interest of time, she moved at a quick and purposeful step, passing only a trio of slaves on the edge of the village ruins. They were engaged in tending a large fire, over which they smoked meat. The dark-hued woman would have recognized Molcaxitl if she paid them any mind whatsoever; instead, the coyote merely slid past the cooking fire and toward the coast, presuming the pack's slaves served true.

The storage hill loomed oddly on the relatively flat coastland. More than once, Eris had wondered which finger had shaped this land, and what sense of humor they had. She had no idea of glaciers, and had no way of knowing such a formation was the product of glacier. The concept of glaciers in and of itself might have blown her mind, considering she'd never been further north than this very place. More than once, she had thanked the human spirits who might linger about this place. The builders, or perhaps some group which had survived on this underground stronghold in a time of desperate need. Their voices were dead to her, of course, and she did not waste her time trying to communicate with the spirits of humanity. There was nothing to be learned from those decades-dead ghosts.

The smell of dank earth rushed her as she opened the heavy door, leaning against its weight to push it inward. There was a grinding sound rather than a creak, and the hybrid stepped forward into the relative darkness. The day's cloudy gray light cast a little light, and the coyote adjusted to it quickly, seeking the indian tobacco the moment she was able. The jar secured, she returned to the door and pushed it most of the way closed. The dark woman squeezed through the door when it was most of the way closed, cold metal and stone against her belly and back. With a growling grunt, she pulled the door the rest of the way closed, and dusted the earth from herself with one hand, trotting onward toward her home.

When she arrived, she peeked around the corner to see Molcaxitl, simply sitting and staring. The coyote quirked a brow at this and considered, then spoke to the woman without sharpness in her tone. Why have you left the fire? Molca's head jerked toward her mistress, and she scrambled to her feet, her jaw opening and closing a few times. Her brilliantly orange eyes focused on the dirt at the dark woman's feet. Her exotic tongue stuttered and stumbled over its words, unusually shaken. Ah... o-o--old wooman slave. She remind me of babies, the slave said, her gaze seeming to bore into the earth at Eris's feet. The dark woman considered this a moment. The old woman was undoubtedly Verusha, but Eris had no memory of Molcaxitl ever speaking of babies. Did the slave mean her own children? If Molca had ever informed Eris of such things, it had completely slipped the sable hybrid's mind.

Finally, Eris waved her hand toward Molcaxitl, her muzzle hardening into a faint smile, generally the most she spared the slave-girl. I do not need you until the sun is three-quarters through the sky, the coyote said, delivering the time in a simplistic format so the slave might not mistake her meaning. Do what you wish until then, she said, and turned without a second's hesitation back to her dwelling, considering herself of the utmost kindness. She heard the slave move off rather quickly, headed in the direction of their western coast. Eris had no fear of Molcaxitl's departure -- the slave would be impeccably timed, as always. The coyote then prepared herself, having to do no tidying up on account of Molcaxitl's attendance, along with Clover's own more sporadic cleanings. There was only to shift and shuffle a few things around and seat herself, awaiting the arrival of her companion.

Eris did not have to wait long on Clover, for the golden-haired Lykoi appeared shortly thereafter, peeking through the door to be ushered inside by a flourish of the darker coyote's hand. Oh yes, magic indeed, she said, agreeing earnestly. The Auxiliary did not take such comparisons lightly, and she thought these substances magic indeed. She produced her own goods. The dried leaves and flowerings of the plant filling the screw-top jar to the brim, though Eris's contribution was not quite so bonny as Clover's own. The dark woman took up the jar to inspect it, nodding approvingly as she did so, and then set it back down for Clover, having no idea how to roll her own smokes and thinking it rude to paw through the other canine's bounty without permission.

How long have you imbibed this substance? she inquired, more for lack of conversation than true interest. Eris herself had been acquainted with entheogens most of her life, learning of them in Eterne and carrying them north with her. Though she was unlikely to experience anything as powerful as the peyote had been, the dark-hued woman thought these were pleasing substitutes, indeed. Eternians could not grow cannabis such as this -- their plants were dark and short, lacking the fiery red hairs and paler hints of Clover's buds. She did not think it was commonplace to be introduced to such powerful substances at young ages; Eris had tried smoking even before she had developed the ability to shift, thanks to some of her early associations. Therefore, she thought herself a precocious early explorer, embarking on the spiritual and mental journeys elder adults were sometimes ill-prepared for.

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