He paced the confines of the throne-room, bubbling with discontent. Itachi had failed him, and in doing so, had created a waste of valuables that could not easily be amended. Solomon only brought his vessel to dock twice a year - Sirius knew the trading times well, for when he and the captain of The Salamander had been comrades, they had shared such privy information with one another. The slave that had been lost would have been of a high caliber - All of Solomon's stock was. The gold coin the Thistle King had entrusted to his Protege had been an ample sum for such a quality purchase, and that, too, had been wasted.
He ground his yellowed teeth and growled irritably, sinking into the high-backed throne when pacing became unbearable. Head leaned against one hand, which splayed cream fingers to filter the sharp light from acidic olive eyes. Sirius could feel his headache returning, a dull pounding behind eyelids that echoed his every thought.
With a long-suffering sigh, the monarch allowed his anger to slide back into annoyance. Itachi would always be offered a spot of favoritism - Like an estranged father, Sirius had formed some sort of strange addiction for the golden youth. Something about his eyes, about his very inability to successfully read or manipulate the Protege, created a small film of adoration between his value for the man and his current distemper. If any other man had committed such a misdeed, they would be suffering intensely for it - In comparison, Itachi had been let off lightly. Cream fingers rubbed pensively at his temples. At least the other slaves were well delivered, safe in the hands of their knew owners. Salsola would benefit from this new livestock.
The thought of livestock prompted another grumble from the Thistle King. He needed to visit the Arbiter, to ensure that the rest of his valuables had arrived in appropriate condition. The lanky, dark male rose to his domineering height, shaking out the dark tangles of his unruly mane until the locks fell away from poisonous olive. Then, with purposeful strides, he moved to the crumbling doorway and started towards the barn.
It had been a long day, but he wasn’t a kid that could skip duties without consequence any longer. The onyx male had been privileged during the half month journey to and fro Freetown and its magic, for he had travelled atop of the King’s own mighty steed. Although the young D’Angelo quickly had learned that the herbivore’s nature was fouler than any of the mares he had dealt with in the past, it had been an adventure on its own. Eris and Larkspur’s children were familiar with the livestock and the horses as it was their father that took care of most of the animals. He had lost control of the stallion more than once, but he didn’t fear being tossed off the saddle.
It was with slow movements he brushed the dark pelted horse’s fur; slow circles travelling down along the silky shine. Both cages with exotic gifts were places at a fair distance in case the short tempered horse decided to boast around with his ill manners. The Bambino wished none of that at the moment, because both man and horse were tired after a long journey. Salvia had received her gift first of all, but no one who counted would know this. Technically, the boss was the one he should seek to please first, but the young D’Angelo was a loyal follower of the heart, and the separation had developed into something close to physical pain.
It was the boy he came across first, the big bear-faced one. In the mild afternoon light, boy and stallion seemed to melt together as one, ebony pelts blending and shifting. As yet unseen, the Hunter lingered in the silence of his observation, acidic olive eyes keenly stalking each movement of luperci and beast.
There were strange cages, dark lumps out of range of a rogue silver hoof. Woven and wicker, gleaming silver in places, the crates held much interest for the Thistle King. When he melted from the trees, it was with silent steps, gaze lingering on the conspicuous items and then on the dark pair.
The stallion knew his scent, but was a foolish, highly-strung beast. Although splendid to look on, Sirius' expression soured with the memory of hours spent struggling to control it. The Hunter was not truly made for horseback - His own feet served him much better. Regardless, he could appreciate the beauty of the animals, and their usefulness, their value. Especially now, when Pandemic's careful grooming made the stud gleam like molten onyx in the wavering light.
"Pandemic," Came the sensual tones, silvery and yet deep, like murky fast-flowing water with no clear depth. Such familiar tones were accompanied by a trademark crocodile smile, yellowed teeth glinting at the boy in greeting. There was a sharpness to him now, Sirius realized - Perhaps he was a boy no longer. "You've returned in one piece, I see... What of your tasks?"
He spoke, of course, of the riddles that had been hefted onto the dark youth's shoulder before he left for Freetown. Bring me a living jewel, a gem with a heartbeat. Bring me the eyes of Midnight and darkness. Such impossible, nonsensical trials. Yet, the Boss and his Auxiliary would not have given them, had they assumed the D'Angelo boy to have no hope at success. Sirius' pupils narrowed in hungry expectation.
This strange uncle always managed to make the youth uneasy. The horse had evidently noticed the approaching leader before he, and it was first when his name was spoken out into the fresh air that he sharply turned to lay his eyes on the present Revlis male. Had he not been so unsettled by the sudden appearance of Sirius, he would have inwardly smirked at the fact that he had surpassed the Boss in height and size. Larkspur’s genes ran strong in his son’s veins.
At the very start of the journey to the trader’s market, the boy had been swallowed by significant amounts of self pity. He was no bright star like his sister was, and he hadn’t been able to interpret the man’s spoken words. In fact, it was only luck that had led him to results he could live with. Yes, in fact he was quite proud of what he had been able to get his hands on. He did not know if the Alpha would be pleased with what he had brought back with him, but the D’Angelo had done his best to please.
Night kissed muzzle bobbed in belated respect for his leader, and the brush was released by dark fingers and followed the irresistible pull of gravity. Ignoring the snort of discontentment from the stallion, Pan immediately strode to the crates. Would the Boss laugh when he saw the young hatchling and its naked flesh? The bird showed no promise; unlike the rare, feathered creature he had admired so in Freetown. But the merchant had promised, and Pandemic had returned to camp with an ugly duckling and a beautiful feather simmering with colour.
”I bring you a living jewel, a gem with a heartbeat.” the boy spoke with hushed tones, eyes trailing the King’s feet. The content of the first container was revealed, and a black hand extended towards the other man, offering the long, flawless feather that could only hint of the hatchling’s future appearance.
The ebony youth jumped to the caress of his voice, those gilded silver eyes seeking the King's dark form before recognizing, and showing proper humility. Acidic olive, so prone to entrancing sparks of venom and danger, did not move slitted pupils from the dark outline of the manchild. For it was true - Pandemic, although vastly younger, already outweighed his monarch, and more than matched the King in height, too. It was a discomforting feeling, to be thus dwarfed, but Sirius had long since grown used to such irritable overshadowing when in the presence of the boy's father. Larkspur was a monolithic beast, proportioned like mountains, and just as dependable.
Stepping forward on silent pads, the Thistle King peered curiously at Pandemic turned to rifle through the motley collection of crates. The youth's dark claws found a smallish one, and Sirius watched intently as it was brought to him, ignoring the shadowed object clutched carefully in the male's other ebony hand.
A gentle murmur echoed words he had spoken weeks prior, and for a moment narrowed pupils lifted from the gift to gaze intently at the face of the Midnight boy, soaking him in that volatile mixture of olive and slate. However, it was with silence that the King took the crate. It was made of dried reed-fiber, tightly woven, and stuffed with soft fabric. With tentative ease, the monarch lifted the lid, and squinted intently inside.
It took a moment for his gaze to focus on the small, naked bundle, shivering amongst the nest of rags. The bird was pitifully small, its exposed skin a mottled pink and brown. Disturbed by the sudden light, it began to cheep in an optimistic tone, seeking parents or nourishment. There was no expression on the face of the King as his eyes traveled now to the feather, held out-stretched. Wickedly curved claws daintily took the extravagant plume, holding it up so that the light could catch it. The feather was splendid to look on - A rainbow of deep emeralds and shimmering royal blues, gilded with gold and black lace. A jewel indeed.
Slowly, a smile spread about the face of the man. He understood the purpose of the bird, and the feather, and an undeniable surge of pleasant surprise proved the Boss to be impressed. Tucking the feather inside, the Thistle King gently eased the lid down on the crate. He paused a moment, before moving to clap the youth firmly on his toned bicep. "Excellent. Excellent!" Yellow teeth glittered. "And the other? You have completed your mother's request also?"
His feelings for this estranged uncle were cooler than they could have been, but Salvia had temporarily soothed the young lion’s jealous heart with her lovely request. And now, he couldn’t help the invisible electricity torturing his skin with the thick flush of anticipation. Pandemic didn’t share his earthen sibling’s brilliance of mind. He had been carved for physical labour, not to ponder riddles made out of words. He couldn’t tell if he had managed to acquire what his two leaders wanted from him. The thought of failure was foul and impossible. He wanted out of the Bambino rank and it had taken them so long to give him his task. What would happen if he failed?
No breath flowed through his parched throat as the Boss lifted the crate. Pandemic had been sick with worry on their way back, especially because of the Boss’ gift. It was a young, fragile hatchling that couldn’t possibly survive a rough ride. The boy had been given instructions on both living creatures, though accidents did happen. The bird was still alive and relatively healthy, but he didn’t feel reassured. Olive eyes squinted into the crate, and the young male’s silver eyes couldn’t resist scrutinizing his superior’s face in search for his visual reaction. For too long, there was nothing, but then, a smile slowly stretched across Sirius’ lips.
The clap on his arm almost caused him to flinch and reveal his internal instability. Dry tongue drily licked dry lips. Excellent. Turning to the larger box, lifted it up before his king. It was heavier, and strong fingers were firmly wrapped about the lower edges of the crate. His muscles were well prepared for the weighty task though, and he would loyally hold it up for the Boss while he examined whether Pan had managed to complete his task or not. Only the dark veil draped around the cage’s was standing between Pandemic and the new pack status he desired so. ”And I bring you the eyes of Midnight and darkness.”
There was such tension within the younger male that Sirius could feel it, vibrating and pulsing out from him in waves. Such discord was something that his senses could easily lock on to - The Hunter found strangeness in all things, and strangeness was most often weakness. The weak in the herd became prey.
But, in Larkspur's son, this discord served as nothing but interesting to the predatorial monarch. His livid gaze prowled the youth's dark features, and found handsomeness there. Unlike Larkspur, who was grizzled and carved from the mountains themselves, Pandemic had some of Eris' mystery about him - His ebony pelt was an absence of light, plush and deep like the blackest midnight Sirius had ever seen. There was beauty in the male; Not like the beauty of his sister, a beauty that was flaunted before Sirius more often of late, but a beauty nonetheless. Approval graced the acidic poison of the Boss' gaze, but it was fleeting, and quickly replaced by curiosity as the second crate was lifted.
This one was larger than his, and heavier too, Sirius guessed as he observed the strain in the younger male's strong arms. It was covered by a sheet of heavy fabric, no doubt to hide the creature within from the rays of the sun as they had traveled. The king could smell the animal within, could hear it shuffling, the graceful sounds of feather sliding against feather. Shifting the box he held with the peacock chick snuggled inside under one arm, the Thistle King leaned forward, his black nose twitching in anticipation.
Clawed fingers hooked the bottom of the fabric and pulled it back slowly, not wanting to startled whatever sat within the dim gloom of the cage. Narrowed pupils were immediately met with ones so large and perfectly round that they, like the pelt of the Arbiter's son, seemed to be a total absence of light. For a moment, owl and King gazed at eachother, unblinking. Finally, Sirius lowered the material and took a step back. His face fell in serious lines, unbroken by the twitch of a smile or the flash of yellow teeth. The owl was a sacred creature, and whatever gods held power over this realm had turned its feathers a dark and mottled black. It was a powerful creature, an omen to all who lived beneath the cold eye of the moon, and it was not something to be smiled at.
He nodded, just once. "You have completed your tasks. By decree of the throne of Thistle and by the law of my blood, I say this: Pandemic D'Angelo, Erisson and seed of the Family, you are now a man." Yellow teeth flashed, not in a smile, but in the primal way of ancient beasts to show their trueness.
The strain from holding up the weighty cage quickly infested well developed muscles, though the young Bambino’s face didn’t expose the approaching pain in his arms. Eyes shaded overcast were hungry to trail the Revils man’s face in pursuit of judgement, but Pandemic managed to control the impulses as they approached. It was important to show self control in the presence of the Boss. Behind shut, black lips, teeth gently grinded together in physical and mental discomfort.
The D’Angelo male’s stare took a lengthy leap as movement was registered. Velvet audits stirred at the silent approval dressed in a nod, and his black, bushy tail could hardly remain emotionless like the rest of him. Had Eris’ only son succeeded at his task? Ears leaned forward on the top of his pitch black head to swallow every word that now was being spoken. The Boss acknowledged him as a man and adult. Delicious air flowed through his nostrils with the same, apparent calm, though there was firework within his wealthy form of black.
Pandemic lowered his face and let his gaze settle on the ground once again. As the young now-man felt the appearance of a tremble in his arms, he slowly lowered the cage to the floor again. Sirius had seen and approved of the black feathered owl within. ”Thank you.” He didn’t quite know what was expected from him now. The dark D’Angelo had never been able to develop much of a relationship with the leader of Salsola, unlike his earthen shaded sister. Sirius made him nervous, and he didn’t like it. But right now, he adored the approval he received.
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