Unwanted, unneeded

Tlantli Kimaris · 01-26-2012, 09:20 AM

[html]

(578)
<333!

Tlantli is by Nat!

Tlantli, more interested in the storage shed for this moment, peered toward the shaded opening of the door. The light was dim, but her sharp eyes perceived the dark shapes of shelving and other such organizational goodies. Tlantli could smell the dank and earthy scent of the shed's innards, along with the sharp and exotic scent of some spice within the shed. Little else was apparent to her nose save scents similar to the fine pelt clutched in the mottled stranger's hand, and so Tlantli's carnelian eyes appraised the Associate once more, peering toward the woman as she spoke. The flaxen coyote perceived the accent upon her tongue, not quite so pronounced as the one adorning her own, but still discernible in the woman's words. Tlantli did not recognize it and could not identify it, but she supposed it did not matter -- Salsola had quite the collection of exotics and foreigners, it seemed.

The woman's response was simple, as was Tlantli's return -- a nod of her head. There was little doubt in the tawny woman's mind this was their shed. She had not even noticed it before going into exile -- it must have been expertly covered by the earth. Miqui had not seemed in the least proud of his accomplishment with the shed, which had vexed Tlantli. He had never been one to have an excess of pride, but he seemed perfectly content to receive no accolade whatsoever for his accomplishment. His honey-furred sister, however, possessed more ambition. Another few words from the mottled woman, starting with a few Tlantli did not understand. They were easy enough to recognize as a noise of exasperation, though, and Tlantli again nodded, a smirk playing across her dark lips. The stranger inquired as to what she delivered to these stores, and Tlantli's gaze darted to her bottles, which she again held up, shrugging wiry shoulders.

I cannot drink it myself. This... flavor, type -- whatever it is, it does not agree with me, she explained, her own accent thick upon her words. I was hoping to find something better, but maybe not, like you say. I am Tlantli Kimaris, also. The introduction was tacked on as nothing of particular import, and Tla was quick to move to other subjects. The amber-furred canine gave half a frown toward her companion, and nodded to the pelt. Maybe I use some of those. These winters are cold, she said, wrinkling her muzzle at the thought of the temperature. Little tested Tlantli's mettle, but it was difficult to function when one could hardly feel one's fingers, to say the least. Her crimson eyes looked over the sash, rivaling her gaze in redness, and Tlantli half-cocked her head. Yourself? Or do you take, and plan to bring later? The straw-colored woman was indifferent, either way -- she would, perhaps, use such information against this stranger if it benefitted her in any way, but otherwise, Tlantli would not blindly tattle to their Colotl ranks -- not unless such a thing proved personally useful for her.

It was not that Tlantli was particularly self-serving: on the contrary, her existence was merely a tool for the furtherance of the Kimaris lineage, and Tlantli lived to serve her name. She had simply seen through the facade of propriety and false spirituality hanging about this place, and she would serve it no further than its interests served her own.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?