power is power

Salvia Eternity · 06-21-2012, 05:03 AM

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Salvia did not believe in destiny. She was a creature of the earth, fashioned with reason and logic in tow while magic and those black arts fell aside. Once, she had looked down the rabbit hole and emerged bloodied and far from enlightened. The world was savage, and only those true savages would survive and prosper. In her world, the strong would lead and the weak would fall in line or perish. She was a true wolf in this fashion, one long fashioned by the blood of her ancestors, demons and hellions they were. It therefore was of little surprise that she would turn on her own mother, as was the nature of younger rulers.

Her mother was sick, but not by any true disease. An illness had sunk into her mind through the weak part of her body—her heart—in the aftermath of Larkspur’s death. There had been a hole before (Salvia did not know this, of course) and a worm had made root. The blonde wolf, who was more this than the faint lingering of coyote and dog blood within her, was not so weak. Salvia loved so few, and none of these were of similar sex. Men she valued. Men had power. Her mother was not capable of standing next to a man now, while she gave into this weak impulse that belonged to lesser, pathetic creatures.

The tigress crinkled her muzzle, black whiskers curling away from pink gums, and showed her teeth. “What is mine by right,” she hissed, and took one stiff legged step forward. Her body was already tensed, her hands half-curled at her sides.

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