[p] el cielo es azul

Tlantli Kimaris · 02-26-2012, 03:52 AM

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Tlantli is by Alaine!

Tlantli was fond of the human city, truth be told. She understood little of the dead culture, could not read, and most human inventions were simply beyond her comprehension. Still, it was good to walk amongst the remnants of a civilization that had crumbled beneath its own weight. It reminded her how transient and fleeting all in the world was, and how desperately close her family had been -- and still was -- close to destruction, itself. No longer -- she would ascertain this. It had become her life's mission, birthright or no. Miqui seemed uninterested in reproduction entirely and Imacai was lost to the wilderness beyond. It was therefore her duty, and one she gladly accepted.

The pale coyote was just readying herself to head to the more residential areas of the city when noise behind her attracted her attention. She had been paying attention to her surroundings, but relying on sight rather than sound, and the canine was close now, and likely within range of sight herself. As if to confirm Tlantli's suspicions, the dark woman called a greeting. It seemed the horse had chosen this moment to throw a fit, and Tlantli watched with sharp eyes as the equine spun around, trailing ribbons and other doodads everywhere. The hybrid thought this canine, too, was here to scavenge, but unlike Tlantli, this one had found whatever it was she'd sought here.

The question was the direct, and nearly took the yellow-furred woman aback; she stared for a moment as the other woman quantified her inquiry, rephrasing it to sound less of one on this particular sack. The tawny coyote stood for a moment, uncertain, and clutched tighter at her prize, empty as it was. It is mine, she said, cautious despite her raised voice to compensate for their distance. I found it here, back that way, she gestured, pointing vaguely to the left.

In truth, she had no idea where it was she'd found the thing, and it smelled faintly of other Luperci, surely someone else's possession before it had passed into her hands. You have a whole horse to carry your things. You'd want my sack? she inquired, her voice sharp with skepticism. She was ready to bandy words with this woman -- her time in Salsola had prepared her for such. She was used to dancing about the truth of the matter and stating things without truly saying them. It would seem, from first impressions, this sable-hued woman, with her extensive decor, was just the opposite.

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