[p] with the music and the madness

Yi TaeKyung · 07-17-2012, 08:56 AM

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Thanks for your patience! I’ll try to keep my posts shorter in the hopes that it means quicker posts!
WC: 449

The routine of life was very familiar now. The routine was carried out almost automatically, as if the success of the day depended on such regularity. Of course, it was the irregularities that created excitement within the sanguine soul of the tenebrous fae. While training and carrying out the duties that her master, Salvia, had instructed of her was what she called her ‘necessary freedom,’ the feral creature did not deny that the suddenness of something new was welcomed. Always she wished to find a trespasser. Unlike the ranked wolves, the Slave of the Flame was not lenient to trespassers. Unless Salvia would instruct her to do otherwise, the slave always took it upon herself to eliminate the strangers on the border. Wolves that were marked by the scent of other packs were excluded—in fact, the slave would avoid them entirely, watching them only to make sure that they did not violate the ancient laws of the scent-marked borders. Loners, however, were not given such leniencies. The Slave would attack and kill. After the incidents of two packless groups invading Salsola, the Slave of the Flame became more aggressive in her duties. Survivors were those lucky enough to escape back over the boarders, which bound the slave more strongly than the ranked ones. Carcasses were left as a warning. Perhaps the ranked wolves had not noticed enough to reprimand her. Or perhaps they approved. The Korean did not know.

A familiar scent met the black fae’s damp maw. It was one she had scented often at the pack meetings, and she remembered that she had fought alongside this scent. But the feral female had not found reason to further relate to this scent. Salvia was the only one to whom she truly answered, and with Salvia’s recent rise to power, this became more true. Lunar orbs sifted through the ruins and found the moving body—the secui shape of the scent. The colour of the pelt was familiar as well, but that was all. The Korean hybrid paused, her powerful movements growing still. In her natural form, she was much smaller than the young ranked oned, but she was not concerned. The slave, her posture lowered as she was taught to do, simply watched. It was as if she were tentative of approaching, for those fathomless eyes beheld nothing that would say otherwise. However, the slave was not tentative. She simply was moved to patrol the boarders, as her self-training had been complete hours before. The Jindo-wolf did not think she would need to interact with the ranked one in whose presence she now stood. Slowly, the lowered, black plume of death waved thoughtfully behind her sinewy form.

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