[m, p] our blood, our grace

Eris Eternity · 03-01-2012, 09:32 AM

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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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Eris is by Requiem!

The dark-furred Auxiliary had been spending most of her waking hours along the territory of the winding Pictou river, attending to the building of the weir at the end of the tributary she'd dubbed Pesce Creek, using the word for fish from Sirius's language. She did not need to do much instructing, for Khirot was the one who'd informed her of the weir technology in the first place, and so she was simply here to watch the magic unfold, in truth. She'd brought a small bag of things, taking with her the cloth wrapper she usually took her miscellaneous spiritual goods within. It was not good to dam a river and change its flow without offering something in return, she thought.

This was what the lamb was for -- the little white thing had been dropped by one of the ewes the previous night, and the lamb was beautifully white. Eris had allowed it to remain with its mother until just an hour or two ago, when she'd snatched it away and carried it, bleating and complaining meekly, out to the river. A chunk of amethyst and the bit of polished amber, perfectly orange and glowing like fire in the direct sunlight, sat on the cloth, and on her finger, she wore the brilliant black fire opal ring, gift of the Boss. The bone dagger, the thing she was relegated to using now that the obsidian dagger was properly amongst its things in the Storage facilities, sat beside it.

Eris sprinkled bits and chunks of cannabis and indian tobacco within her gourd-pipe, her chartreuse eyes occasionally flicking to the river to check the slaves' progress. She had no need of her heavy substances on this day. With the power of her stones arranged around and on her, the bone dagger and the lingering essence it carried within it, as well as the life force of the rabbit and the fire, Eris had no need of her truly mind-bending substances. The hybrid lit the pyre carefully with a match, thankful the day's wind was low. Even so, she cupped the same match with a hand as she brought the gourd-pipe to her lips, inhaling. The smoke burned in her lungs and she exhaled, repeating several times until the bowl was exhausted.

Long moments later, the lamb was eviscerated, the ribs separated and the small liver drawn from the animal's corpse. Its white fur was stained red, and it lay limp and lifeless beside the fire. The shadow-furred Auxiliary held the organ in her hand a moment, half-lidded chartreuse eyes gazing down with odd fondness at the still-warm thing. The fondness evaporated from her face, draining away quickly to be replaced by concentration and a strange look -- almost akin to reverence, Eris stared hard at the smoke that curled up from her fire, and stuck her hand over it, allowing the liver to slide down into the flames. It landed with a hiss and splat, and immediately began curling, burning. The smoke of cooking meat filled the air, and the hybrid watched the pale gray ribbons dance and weave in and out of one another.

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