Unwanted, unneeded

Tlantli Kimaris · 01-24-2012, 08:06 AM

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(671)
Oh fuck yeah. |: I read your other post, but I was not entirely sure how to reply, myself. ^^ IT WAS VERY GOOD, THOUGH. Just like that one was!! ... Mine is tl;dr tl;dr. D: Also I feel bad as shit for tl;dring you after you wrote a long post so seriously, skip the first five paragraphs plz, SoSu drivel. Only the rest is important. XD

Tlantli is by me!

Things had changed since Tlantli had gone into hiding. The flaxen-hued coyote had learned, with some astonishment, a valuable tidbit of information from Miqui during their trip to Halifax. Thanks to the horses, it had only been a day trip -- which was good, for Tlantli was eager to return to Salsola and behold the shed where Salsola apparently kept a stock of goods. Though what they'd taken from the city was destined for Odessa's clinic, Tlantli had avowed to visit the shed the very next day, finding herself too tired from a day of scavenging the evening of her return. Her body seemed less resilient than it had been, though the honey-furred woman was certain this was due to disuse rather than deterioration. She was a young woman still.

The tawny coyote was also surprised by the appearance of a dock, boat, and slave to man the boat. She had thought such plans would never come to fruition, in truth, but she herself had crossed the strait of water between the mainland and Isle Haute -- for no other reason than to see the island, of course. Tlantli had never before bothered to swim the channel -- she was not especially fond of swimming, and in such waters as those, it came close to frightening her, however strangely Tlantli experienced fear.

The boat was therefore a welcome addition, and she herself had pilfered of the mushroom supply, finding herself alone on the island with Khirot, easily relegated to the shed. Her catch concealed in the leather purse adorned at her side, Tlantli had returned and squirreled this precious bit in her drawers. She rarely entertained visitors indoors anymore, and it was likely the stink of her other belongings would conceal the faint and earthy scent of the mushrooms. The straw-hued woman did not know, in truth, why she'd taken the mushrooms. She was not as indulgent with this habit as her once sister, nor did she seem to enjoy it. They were Tlantli's, nevertheless -- several lovely button caps.

It was this morning the woman rose, then, with intent to find and look over this shed, seeing what she might take for herself. Tlantli was not altogether absent-minded of her pack's custom, though the gift she offered was meager in comparison to what she would take, given the chance. A few bottles of weak alcohol, some kind of sparkling wine with a terribly bitter and painfully light taste. Tlantli had spent one bottle during her dim months, but her stomach had revolted against the champagne. She therefore dared not imbibe of the other bottles, certain it would promptly educe the same condition within her.

The coyote meandered south, having gotten only a vague idea of the location from the shed from her brother. The Borgata Coatl seemed dead and entirely unfamiliar in its winter decor (or lack thereof). Tlantli was walking in no particular direction, vexed at the lack of a wooden shed, when an unfamiliar woman, both pale of hue and streaked with darker patches. She had draped a brilliantly carmine sash about her, and her heritage appeared, at least to Tlantli, muddled -- although evidently coyote enough, there was a peculiar bulkiness about her, as well. Tlantli did not think it was wolf, but she could not be certain. The pale coyote strode toward the woman who had appeared from the ground with confidence befitting one of her position -- that is, not very much, and not nearly as much as she had possessed as The Crone.

So, this is the storage shed, she began in her thickly accented voice, taking note of the woman's examination of a pelt. We leave things, she gestured with the bottles, both of which were deftly clutched in one hand by the stems, we take things, yes? The smile she offered Isabella was one of peculiar sharpness, although whether in disapproval of the stranger's actions or mirth at having finally found the shed, one could not say.

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