.sivTable {
background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/bLKIz.png);
background-repeat:no-repeat;
background-position:top center;
margin:0 auto;
width:500px;
}
.sivText {
padding:172px 0 0 213px;
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
}
.sivText p { margin:0; padding:0; text-indent:25px;}
</style>
If there was anything that Siv understood, it was the appearance of propriety. She could fake her emotions and her integrity to a point that was nearly flawless. Obviously, she understood the need for such things. While she might have thought of herself as high and mighty, this world was not her own. The dark woman before her was a leader (her scent on the border betrayed this) and obviously hardly cared for newcomers. Streaked hair fell about her shoulders as she shifted to eyeball the peculiar beast.
While Siv had seen wildcats before, one spotted and shaped like the ocelot was new to her. Where had this woman come from? What gave her control over the animal? Magic, a part of her whispered. Her eyes darkened, however slightly. “I was born with them; where I come from, those who have gifts are respected above all others. I was the youngest ever chosen to become a member of the völva; what we call our witches.” At her foot, Dragur moved cautiously forward, curious about the cat. Siv dropped quickly and picked up the now nearly twenty-pound pup with ease. “I can read runes, and know the magic of wands and weaving. That sort of power can bind others together…though I suspect you have some knowledge of this. That cat alone proves your gifts.”