they [ s p u n ] a web for me.

Vesper · 06-26-2012, 09:08 PM

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This post is a whole lot of rambling. +618

There was not much reason for Vesper to visit the mansion. About the only occasion she could remember spending time in D’Neville was the night spent with Helotes, sleeping off the vodka they’d shared and making sure he didn’t turn into the monster he feared he’d become. The memory made her frown, but she shook her head and moved onward through the drizzling rain. Her purpose today didn’t involve fraternal exchanges of alcohol but a much subtler duty, checking on the greenhouse plants to sate her curiosity and the hunger of the ravens.

Stark had made it clear that she needed to work with the winged scouts as much as the ones with paws, and so Ves had spent a lot of her time in Hollow’s Ruins learning about them. She knew the names of those who had names, how to speak a few basic phrases in their croaking tongue, and their different quirks—including favorite foods. The omnivorous birds mostly ate what they could get at, but some preferred certain types of meat (such as Stark and his godforsaken squirrel obsession). A couple liked berries, which had her wanting to investigate the greenhouse in the first place. And, even if there were no treats for the ravens there, the Centurion supposed she might as well learn more about the different herbs used by the clan. The woman who had once spat upon the notion of adapting to luperci lifestyle found herself willing, and even eager, to increase her knowledge.

The greenhouse was around the corner of the stables, and the odor of horses made her nose twitch and her ears fall back. She was surprised to recognize the scents of Helotes’ mare and her offspring and to discover the scents were distinct from Myrika’s miniature herd. Apparently, she knew more than she thought.

Blinking rain from her eyes, the coyote headed toward the building at last, eager to escape the drizzle and get it over with so she could return to her cave with Stark. As she approached, the sound of singing reached her good ear, which she strained as she sidled a bit closer. Her mind flickered back to her mother’s croon as she lulled her daughters to sleep on stormy nights, and strange warmth spread through her chest and throat before she cast the emotion aside.

“Emmanuelle?” Vesper asked, recognizing the slim tawny shape of the woman through the rain-splattered plexi-glass. Or perhaps not as slim as she used to be; something about the other’s slender and agile build had changed, some muscle or fat gained as a result of the war and its aftermath. Her scent offered no clues; the aroma of lavender and honeysuckle, cannabis and catnip, was too heavy for her to detect the telltale change.

Guilt played at the edges of the subleader’s heart for a moment. The memory of first welcoming the girl into the clan rose unbidden, and she knew she had been distant from the young blonde. She wondered if that was what had prompted her change in rank, or if it had just been her dream to nurture plants and do other gentle tasks. Inferni was not for everyone, and Ves wondered if the clan’s image would finally change—allowing for the picture of a beautiful young woman watering flowers and singing a sad song.

“That was pretty,” the blue-eyed hybrid managed at last, realizing that she might have interrupted the other’s privacy and needing to make amends somehow. She failed at sounding wholly complimentary, however, and she smirked. “Gloomy as all hell, but pretty. What’s up?” She hadn’t been very good at consoling and advising her clan, but the times were changing, and so could she.

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