He rode with ease, hips rolling in a calm motion with the walking pace of the horse. The mare was a splendid creature - Even in the cool afternoon light her pelt was dappled with silver, haloed by the color of the moon. Sirius had become rather fond of the beast, for it was known that he was a vain creature and well attached to things of beauty.

From the barn, the pair had traveled West. There was no true aim to his riding; the King traveled with only a vague intention of heading towards the place known as Millstone Village. He passed the markings that let him know he had entered Borgata Coatl; the snakes carved into the flesh of the younger pines that were not plentiful enough to make up a forest on their own. The land here was sparse, wildly and harshly beautiful, and as the silver-tongued monarch's venomous olive eyes graced it he was filled with the familiar sense of deep and wicked pride.

The small village was soon to come into view, and Sirius pressed Luna into a trot, his large coyote ears flicked forward to show attentiveness. Although having settled quite some moons ago, now, the Revlis man had yet to truly explore these human remnants fully. The mare's silver hooves changed from dull thudding to making a sharper sound, and narrowed pupils saw that they had come onto what appeared to be an overgrown, but still recognizable, flattened road. The road was made of compact earth and stones, and although weeds and growth sprung haphazardly across it, it was smoother still than the unruly land surrounding. The road led into the center of the small town, which was little more than a scattering of houses, what appeared to be an Inn, and a few novelty stores. Gaping black windows and creeping ivy tendrils made the place appear rather eerie, but the afternoon light chased away any true ghosts.

Pulling Luna to a halt, the Thistle King smoothly dismounted. With the black leather reigns grasped easily in one wickedly-clawed hand, the tall, dark man stretched and eased out his muscles, before letting out a sharp and commanding barking sound. If any of his subjects were in the immediate area, they would be wise to come to the calling of their King.

The chaotic sounds wafted across to his large ears, and they flicked back in casual annoyance. Narrowed pupils sought the direction of he sounds, now identifiable as the sliding and grating of wood against wood, against metal, against flesh. Was someone in the process of building something? Wrecking something? At last, narrowed pupils found the culprit; A feminine form that slunk from between buildings with a barely-audible whimper.

He observed her curiously, dangerously, with a cool expression best befitting his self-confessed nobility. For what her eyes saw were truth, but not the whole truth; On the outside, Sirius Revlis may have been a beautiful man, but on the inside was a deep and cunning insidiousness that festered along with the wicked madness of his wit. Only acidic olive eyes stood testament to this, brooding from the shadows of the dark locks of hair that fell before his face.

The woman that came to his call was an unfamiliar one, but her scent was Salsolan, and thus she belonged to him. There was a primal way of interaction that not even this humanesque two-legged forms could take from them - A sense of submission against dominance. The Thistle King oozed dominance from every pore, and his scent was the rich scent of an Alpha. Coyote ears were held tall atop his wolfish head, the strange mixture of 'yote and wolf blood resulting in his tall, almost lankily lean figure. The woman he faced was a similar mixture of heritage, and his eyes could note the aspects of coyote and wolf within her, too. Intrigued, he allowed her to approach, moving only to jerk his hand once to still the dancing of the silver mare. The pretty horse rolled her eyes at the approaching stranger, but stilled docilely to the silent command of the Boss.

Venomous eyes appraised the woman, and her accent clearly sparked interest within the wicked monarch. His posture changed from alert and domineering to nonchalantly thoughtful, still lazily emanating the pride and power befitting his rank. Her smell was much less appealing, and his ebony nose wrinkled slightly in distaste at the scent of rotting wood. However, her apparent anxiety at his appearance - his sharp predatorial gaze noted the way her calloused hands wrung the red bandanna as though it were a fowl's neck - softened the severity of his expression. A charming smile, revealing in a flash the rows of deadly yellowed fangs on which his hunting skill relied, was offered to the grimy woman. He wondered if she was beautiful, beneath the layers of dirt that matted her rich earthy pelt, and assumed from the sumptuous curves of her body that she was. "Such a lovely accent," Thin pupils drank her in, while his mind reviewed all the newcomers that Eris had informed him of. Her description fit only one - The Russo girl? Verily. Black lips curved up sensually. "Perhaps you could. But first, whatever could you possibly be doing out here, Liliya?" He rarely forgot names or faces, and having put two and two together, it was certain that he would remember the girl. Only her actions from this point would prove whether that memory would be a pleasant one or not.

It seemed that, by the calling of her name and being, the girl was able to pull together her scraps of dignity. One dark brow-spot rose in amusement as her shoulders straightened, auburn tresses matted with filth falling more neatly about her face now. She was a pretty thing, indeed - Or, she would be, after bathing. His ebony nose wrinkled once more, before returning to a handsome facade.

She spoke once more, in reply to his comment about her delightful accent, and large coyote ears tilted forward in an interest that did not have to be faked. Sirius was a well-traveled man, and prided himself on knowing as much as possible about many placed around the world. He had studied some, while acting the wastrel in London, and although the title of her home meant nothing to him, Russia did. Impressed in spite of himself, the Revlis man made a thoughtful humming sound deep in his throat, narrowed pupils observing her closer still.

The girl seemed to grow more confident as she spoke, and although it took him a moment to tune in to the rusty pleasure of her voice, Sirius was quick to understand her. His predatorial gaze followed the wayward gesture of her hand to the building yonder - A decrepit, withering man-made thing that had no use but for all its parts - before returning mildly back to her. The girl's features were animated, invigorated by the words she spoke; Clearly, this task was a matter of some pride to her.

Another thoughtful purr escaped him, one hand lifting for cream fingers to stroke the dark tuft on his chin as the King considered Liliya's information. A dock would be a most handy addition to Salsola's various useful landmarks - He knew of the little island offshore and its apparent wealth in mushrooms from Eris, having never swum the tedious distance himself. A boat would make for much easier movement of cargo, there, as well as allowing for better fishing. The gentle growl in his throat oozed out into words, a voice so charming and yet so wicked that it could persuade a great many minds to do its bidding. "Very well, then, Liliya. You do Salsola a good service, by making these things," His hungry eyes lingered on her pretty, filthy face. "I wish to reward you for your efforts. What might make this work easier? Some more hands? A beast to pull the wood?" He could offer her a slave, or perhaps a horse. Winter was coming soon, and it was in the monarch's best interests to have this girl's task finished by then.