01-15-2011, 12:49 AM
OOC: Saraqael has come from Crimson Dreams and is on the outside portion of the Salt Lake where the borders are. She has not trespassed. 
Word Count: 1001.
IC:
Saraqael had just assumed she was experiencing synesthesia when the tang of sea salt assaulted her nose. Perhaps the sand had sparked the natural next step of ocean water to spring to her mind, and thus flood her senses with other sensory input that was not actually there. Other evidence was beginning to stack, the real, concrete kind. The water in the basin had the same crystal blue color as the ocean did in spring and summer, though it was clouded by the murkiness of fresh water. Snow melt was undoubtedly the culprit. It did not have drastic temperature changes and was not subject to the wind as the open sea was. It had only its comparatively little bowl to survive in. Also like the beaches of true oceans, sand encroached up to a point where the combination of salt and lapping waves destroyed the hold of the white chill on the ground. How was there a pool of salted water in the middle of the forest? It did not rain salt, and the terrain did not look particularly right for such high salinity to be present. Poking up like hairy toothpicks, the frames of pines were so thickly grown together that from an aerial view, she probably would have been able to pretend they were the hairs on the back of a gigantic animal. An aging animal, for that was the appearance the falling flakes then gave to the “fur.” She reasoned it could have only come from some very lost, underground tunnel that wound its way beneath the surface of the earth and emerged in the first place that it found a weakness. It would explain why water from rain and snow did not turn it completely fresh. Time, gravity, and weathering from the water probably carved its dish. Peering inside, the two toned girl swore she even saw fish of the salt water variety, things that could not feign existence in fresh. Saraqael had no choice but to believe in the peculiar, salty pond.
From its edge, a wind picked up, whisking razor marks into the surface of the miniature lake. It brought the perfume of scent markers with it and her keen nose told her where she was: AniWaya. It was the pack of Dawali, the kind chieftain who had come to Inferni. Bearing his neck in respect, practically bowing to her, a lowly subordinate, he had come to their wicked wolf skull lands in the hopes of encouraging peace and conducting a trade. Saraqael helped him try to fulfill both. Now she had come to visit, hoping she would be welcomed by someone new. Of course, it helped that she had the name of the pack leader in her arsenal of convincing facts. Like at Cour des Miracles, she expected to have to coerce the wolf in question into believing the truth. She had been traveling from Inferni and had visited Phoenix Valley, then moved on to Cour des Miracles, and most recently to Crimson Dreams. Her goal was to make a circuit of every pack outside of Inferni and then return home, safe and sound, her limbs and her dignity intact. So far, it had not seemed to be an impossible mission. There had been hitches and she had been afraid more than once but no serious harm came of any of her minor scrapes. Each time she came away unscathed and prepared to move on to the next territory, wherever that might have been. Everyone had been helpful with directions and information. The creature would be sure to report the good news back to Kaena and perhaps Gabriel who she had never met. The idea of her highest ranked leader caught her interest but also made her nervous. Kaena demanded enough respect and trepidation as it was. Gabriel seemed even more elusive, somehow darker, a mysterious and brooding presence that ran Inferni from the background. It occurred to her that by the time they did meet, she might have so many misconceptions about him that she would just faint. It seemed it might have been the easiest way out anyway because he would probably look at her and mark her as weak, kooky, and unworthy.
Her face had twisted itself up in an expression of distaste, as though she had eaten a bit of rotten food and had no water with which to drive the bitter and disgusting flavor away. Shifting her mode of thought, she did what she normally did when she arrived in a new place and was ready to take a break: started to undo her pack. There were three sets of straps, all tied quite tightly. The first rested carefully across her shoulders, running the length of her collarbone and tied to such a tightness that it did not ride up or down. It's purpose was to keep the weight evenly distributed across her back and so that the top of the bag did not slump backward. She left that one for last and nimbly undid the tie that rested just above her hips. Immediately the pressure on the other two sets increased and Saraqael, with her small frame, could not support it without pain. The cold ground shot up to meet her equally white bottom. The middle strap, which wrapped itself around the smallest part of her waist, came undone and the two pieces flew apart in opposite directions because of the tension of the added weight. Finally, with great haste, the last set released and the backpack dropped gently into the soft, newly fallen snow. This had been the shortest duration of having to bear that load for a while. AniWaya was so close to Crimson Dreams that she had left at dawn and now it was a tiny bit after noon, the sun still poked through the clouds occasionally, letting little jets of warm light sneak through the patchwork of gray. They were always followed by cool shadow and snow, but it was better than nothing.
Word Count: 1001.IC:
Saraqael had just assumed she was experiencing synesthesia when the tang of sea salt assaulted her nose. Perhaps the sand had sparked the natural next step of ocean water to spring to her mind, and thus flood her senses with other sensory input that was not actually there. Other evidence was beginning to stack, the real, concrete kind. The water in the basin had the same crystal blue color as the ocean did in spring and summer, though it was clouded by the murkiness of fresh water. Snow melt was undoubtedly the culprit. It did not have drastic temperature changes and was not subject to the wind as the open sea was. It had only its comparatively little bowl to survive in. Also like the beaches of true oceans, sand encroached up to a point where the combination of salt and lapping waves destroyed the hold of the white chill on the ground. How was there a pool of salted water in the middle of the forest? It did not rain salt, and the terrain did not look particularly right for such high salinity to be present. Poking up like hairy toothpicks, the frames of pines were so thickly grown together that from an aerial view, she probably would have been able to pretend they were the hairs on the back of a gigantic animal. An aging animal, for that was the appearance the falling flakes then gave to the “fur.” She reasoned it could have only come from some very lost, underground tunnel that wound its way beneath the surface of the earth and emerged in the first place that it found a weakness. It would explain why water from rain and snow did not turn it completely fresh. Time, gravity, and weathering from the water probably carved its dish. Peering inside, the two toned girl swore she even saw fish of the salt water variety, things that could not feign existence in fresh. Saraqael had no choice but to believe in the peculiar, salty pond.
From its edge, a wind picked up, whisking razor marks into the surface of the miniature lake. It brought the perfume of scent markers with it and her keen nose told her where she was: AniWaya. It was the pack of Dawali, the kind chieftain who had come to Inferni. Bearing his neck in respect, practically bowing to her, a lowly subordinate, he had come to their wicked wolf skull lands in the hopes of encouraging peace and conducting a trade. Saraqael helped him try to fulfill both. Now she had come to visit, hoping she would be welcomed by someone new. Of course, it helped that she had the name of the pack leader in her arsenal of convincing facts. Like at Cour des Miracles, she expected to have to coerce the wolf in question into believing the truth. She had been traveling from Inferni and had visited Phoenix Valley, then moved on to Cour des Miracles, and most recently to Crimson Dreams. Her goal was to make a circuit of every pack outside of Inferni and then return home, safe and sound, her limbs and her dignity intact. So far, it had not seemed to be an impossible mission. There had been hitches and she had been afraid more than once but no serious harm came of any of her minor scrapes. Each time she came away unscathed and prepared to move on to the next territory, wherever that might have been. Everyone had been helpful with directions and information. The creature would be sure to report the good news back to Kaena and perhaps Gabriel who she had never met. The idea of her highest ranked leader caught her interest but also made her nervous. Kaena demanded enough respect and trepidation as it was. Gabriel seemed even more elusive, somehow darker, a mysterious and brooding presence that ran Inferni from the background. It occurred to her that by the time they did meet, she might have so many misconceptions about him that she would just faint. It seemed it might have been the easiest way out anyway because he would probably look at her and mark her as weak, kooky, and unworthy.
Her face had twisted itself up in an expression of distaste, as though she had eaten a bit of rotten food and had no water with which to drive the bitter and disgusting flavor away. Shifting her mode of thought, she did what she normally did when she arrived in a new place and was ready to take a break: started to undo her pack. There were three sets of straps, all tied quite tightly. The first rested carefully across her shoulders, running the length of her collarbone and tied to such a tightness that it did not ride up or down. It's purpose was to keep the weight evenly distributed across her back and so that the top of the bag did not slump backward. She left that one for last and nimbly undid the tie that rested just above her hips. Immediately the pressure on the other two sets increased and Saraqael, with her small frame, could not support it without pain. The cold ground shot up to meet her equally white bottom. The middle strap, which wrapped itself around the smallest part of her waist, came undone and the two pieces flew apart in opposite directions because of the tension of the added weight. Finally, with great haste, the last set released and the backpack dropped gently into the soft, newly fallen snow. This had been the shortest duration of having to bear that load for a while. AniWaya was so close to Crimson Dreams that she had left at dawn and now it was a tiny bit after noon, the sun still poked through the clouds occasionally, letting little jets of warm light sneak through the patchwork of gray. They were always followed by cool shadow and snow, but it was better than nothing.