Eris is by Alaine! Note: witchy get-up worn only when specified.

The afternoon was surprisingly warm. It was already November, and they might see snow soon -- nevertheless, the air lacked the usual chill and nip of late fall. The dark-furred hybrid moved along the outskirts of Salsola, her usual walking stick clutched in hand. Salsola had experienced few problems since its foundation, least of all from outsiders. They had selected just the territory for this: small, compact, and bordered on three sides by water, their territory was easily defended, and its smallness lent to difficulty in penetrating deep within the territory. Eris had considered this, at least part-way, when she had selected this little chunk of marshy land as their home. Sirius had been the one to point out the tactical advantages of such a territory, however. Eris had not known it would be quite so good on this far corner of Drifter Bay, this side of the Pictou.

The coyote now smelled something a stranger. They were deep enough within Salsola's claim for Eris to fly into instant alert. She halted, freezing in place as her coal-colored nose twitched and shifted, tasting the air. The sable Auxiliary did not consider the potential danger to herself: she was on Salsola's territory; how could she be injured on her home turf? Eris stalked forward again, lowering herself into a crouch. She sniffed, and the scent of the intruder was heavy on the wind. He had passed by recently -- she would track him.

Stepping after his scent, the hybrid sorely wished to call to the rest of her pack -- surprise was on her side, however, and she would not spoil her advantage. Adrenaline jolted in her chest, sending shivers and trembles to her extremities. This was dangerous prey to hunt, and the huntress was unskilled -- still, she stalked after him, catching sight of the intruder. He was apparently clueless, or too hungry to care he'd trespassed into pack territory. As she saw him, however, her adrenaline rush achieved a particular tingle, a particular feverish pitch. She knew it well, and as the sable hybrid looked at him, she would have sworn the air about the stranger shimmered, snapping with electric. He was physically weak, but there was power in him all the same. She wanted it.

Now, the dark woman threw her head back, her howl brief and loud. It called her pack to her, demanding their presence to defend the pack.

Eris is by me!

The male spoke in a strange tongue the sable-hued woman did not recognize. Larkspur might have recognized it, but Eris was dull where it came to language. The hybrid did not respond, and instead took several retreating steps away from the wolf. Though he showed sign of submission, the dark woman trusted no outsider; they were all poltroons as far as Eris Eternity was concerned. His submission could easily be a ploy. Her lips drew back and she snarled, pearly teeth revealed in all their deadly-sharp glory.

Later, the trance would set in and she would become passive, but for now, the adrenaline burned through her like fire, setting her extremities to tingling. From somewhere behind the wolf came a voice, and Eris's eyes shifted to see a pale figure standing behind the outsider. The figure was cloaked, but the sable Auxiliary recognized their newest charge, Esmeralda. Behind her, even more distant, was another figure: dark, mottled browns and long, long hair, tied back and away from his face. Miqui advanced to stand at Esmeralda's side, several feet apart from her. The newcomer might try to escape to either side, of course, but his way further into Salsola was blocked by formidable canines.

A blur of motion caught the dark woman's eyes, and she barely saw the knife as it hurtled toward the newcomer. Though the chartreuse-eyed woman did not see whether it struck or not, she chose to recover the ground she'd given to the man as he'd advanced, taking a few steps closer to him. Her dark body was held in a half-crouch, low to the ground. She could still see that surging energy around this strange trespasser, and the desire in her grew. She would have him, she must have him.

Eris is by me!

There was a sharp smell of blood on the air, and Eris saw it staining the intruder's leg brilliantly red. Her chartreuse eyes flared with excitement, and her growl's pitch changed. Both ears were now turned forward in eagerness and excitement, and her tongue snaked out of her mouth repeatedly, fingers flexing. For all her pretend civility, in these moments, the sable werewolf was as feral as the wildest non-Luperci in the most isolated boscage in all the world. There was little more to her than lust and bloodthirstiness; looking at her, one might ponder just how spirituality played into her motivation at all. Such feral perspective was, however, exactly what The Auxiliary sought. One needed to shed all prejudices and biases, all complexities and complications, in order to ascend to that spiritual plane.

Eris half-recognized the golden slave, half-heard the words spoken to him. She was off and after the newcomer herself, having already turned and given chase. His blood was due, not only for his trespass, but for the magic lurking somewhere deep inside him, radiating perhaps from that holiest of holy organs, the dark and bloody center of his being. Eris was not a fast runner, and in her Optime form, her running gait was almost comical. Her short stature afforded her a short stride, and she was soon outpaced by the golden slave-boy. The dark hybrid's pace slowed to a trot and finally to a walk, and she stopped, still snarling but no longer growling.

There was the lightest sense of a presence at her side, and the hybrid realized Miqui had come to stand beside her, glowering toward the stranger. Let the slave do his work, the man said, his gruff voice surprisingly soothing. No danger to The Auxiliary. Eris had been ready to round on him at the first statement, preparing to curtly inform her subordinate that she did as she pleased, when something in the second statement registered with her, and she simply nodded, still displeased enough to deny him the pleasure of a vocal response. Instead, she turned to Esmeralda. The snarl was fading, but the tingle of excitement still ran over her body, and the hair along her shoulders stood, the Optime's impersonation of Lupus hackles.

I should like to see your snake-boy do his work, yes, she said, pointedly speaking to the paler of the two canines and ignoring the dark one before turning back toward the scenery, her fingers itching to tear and cut.

Eris is by me!

The dark coyote peered toward the spectacle with sharp eyes, watching as the golden man bore with his brightly-colored decor bore down on the pale stranger. Eris did not understand her attraction to these pale, off-white canines. They were her preference, but she was not aware of her own preference. Noir had been pale cream in coloration, and this stranger was but a few shades darker. Soon his fur would be stained red, as Noir's had been. Perhaps she would take of his bones, as well. The coyote considered these things as a modern woman might casually consider items on a shopping list. There was one must-have item at the sale -- the liver, so sweet and so imbued with his power -- but there were other things she could pick up, too. Items made from the bones of the dead were especially powerful, and she might be a fool to pass on such opportunities.

The coyote started forward just slightly as the golden man leapt forward to bite the trespasser, bringing him down in a stunning fall. She growled her pleasure, her sharp hearing able to pick up the tell-tale snap of bone even at this distance. With that, her lovely and desired sacrifice was being dragged back toward her in the strong jaws of the snake-slave. Eris watched with approval, turning toward Esmeralda as the woman spoke. Miqui stepped forward to inspect the captured one, though he made no move to interfere with the slave's work. The dark woman nodded, and made no objection when Esmeralda berated her slave. He seemed to realize his error, at least, and the hybrid smiled coldly at this. Slaves who knew their place were the best sort.

The dark woman did not have to consider Esmeralda's question long; the answer was well-prepared, practically rehearsed. His strength will become our own. I have not yet engaged you on subjects of spirituality, if you'll hear them, the coyote explained. But later -- for now, we take him to our western coast. The large, flat rocks, the coyote said, looking pointedly at the dark Family member. He produced a long section of rope and offered it to Daisuke to bind the stranger's limbs. There would be little fight left in him soon enough, but for now, Eris did not feel like pursuing him across the marshes once again. The sprat of a wolf would be best served tied and bound so he could not inconvenience her once again.

Your slave serves you well, Esmeralda. He is a valuable one -- keep him well, she advised, nodding appreciatively at the strangely-adorned man that served Esmeralda's whim. She would have to inquire on Daisuke further -- perhaps he had an interesting tale behind him, as her Molcaxitl seemed to. Eris, of course, found Molca's tale interesting primarily because it ended with her. Eris, too, saw the spiritual meaning behind her slave-girl's beliefs. It did seem like destiny that the small coyote wound up in Nova Scotia, face to face with one who recognized her slave's traits. Anywhere else in the world, and Axi might have lived the rest of her life a free woman.