Eris is by me!

The dark hybrid had traveled north. Just yesterday, she had been utterly blindsided by the birth of her son, Basilaris. Her body still ached from his coming, but she was not incapacitated with her discomfort. His birth had been easier than the one before -- Ataxia, Artemisia, Harrow, Solanaceae, and Shibboleth. Shibboleth, who so looked like her brother. Where Shibboleth had been weak and sickly, however, Basilaris was strong.

She knew enough to know he had come early. He was the only one of his litter, as well -- both oddities. Despite these disadvantages, the puppy had come into the world yowling and struggling. Basilaris's size belied his prematurity; from the looks of him, one might take him for a full-term. Eris did not lay with Larkspur so frequently anymore, however, and she thought she knew when Basilaris had been conceived. These days, sex was at her request; Larkspur no longer approached her regarding the subject.

While this disappointed the sable-hued hybrid in some ways, it was more convenient than it was displeasing. She could have who she wanted, in any case -- she made it clear what happened to those who scorned her. Itachi was no longer among their highest echelons, and perhaps that was a little of her doing. Sirius had his own reasons, but Eris had been a contributing factor, of course; as with many things, her dealings in this change were surreptitious. She could not have all of Salsola knowing she had been scorned, and even Siri did not know the whole truth.

It was not Itachi or Sirius she wanted now, though. Her heart had shifted, however slightly, upon looking at his pale, tiny face. He was Larkspur's child, there was no doubt of this, and perhaps now a part of Eris loved Larkspur. He had given her beautiful children before, but Basilaris? No, Basilaris was something else entirely. She loved her other children no less now that he had arrived, but she saw clearly enough -- he had been touched, caressed by some spirit in her womb.

The night wind whistled as it prowled through the emptied streets of this northerly town. Eris had never been this far north before, and if she had not been in such a glowing haze, she might have pondered at that small fact of life. The tiny town lay before her, and the sable woman and her smaller coyote slave stood on a hilltop, brilliant chartreuse eyes surveying the lay of the land. Larkspur had departed for Freetown prior to Basilaris's birth, and Eris thought he had been delayed -- or worse, perhaps he had chosen to remain in Freetown of his own accord.

He had taken his wretched slave with him, the rusty dog-girl he cared for so. The sable-hued woman cared for Molcaxitl, certainly, but she cared for her coyote slave as one cares for a particularly valuable, irreplaceable belonging. She was property, no more. Eris thought Larkspur's relationship with his slave-girl was particularly unhealthy, but she would be the last to smear her mate publicly, and kept such thoughts entirely to herself, divulging them to no one.

Molca shivered beside her, and Eris spared the woman a glance. Though the slave was bundled tightly, it would not seem she was built for this weather. Build a fire, if you'd like, she purred to the slave, having no intent of helping. She would watch and see if she could see Larkspur's return. He would bring news of Pandemic, but her news was more important, she thought. The dark woman stood as her slave built the fire, lighting it after struggling in the salty breeze. Eris settled next to it, though she kept her back to the fire, unlike her slave. She would not have the light ruin her distance sight.

(409)

The mare she had been so pleased to receive had proven very quickly that there was a reason for the gift. Siv had little experience with horses, and while she found the blue-black thing pretty, she did not see the true value in her breeding. In fact, it the course of two hours she had learned exactly what sort of horse this mare was. Stubborn, headstrong, and in many ways, too smart. Yet Siv would show her Lord Hunter exactly what sort of prowess she could manage with the beast, whom she had taken to calling Hildr. There was no storage for her at the barn, but Siv was searching for a space to make her home and would certainly keep the mare in mind.

Her intentions had shifted when she had caught wind of the Dark Lady. Though she had intended on presenting her gifts sooner, it had been a long process to strip the color from the hide. She carried them with her always now, and they were carefully wrapped up in the bag resting behind her and on the spotted rump of the horse. Siv turned the mare north and rode well into the night, unaware of how dangerous such a thing was for a horse. Luckily, Hildr was not a spring filly and knew very well how to travel in such conditions. A large part of this was from the lack of fear (which was truly due to ignorance) that came from her rider. While inexperience, there was no lack of confidence, no hesitation—and the mare responded to this. With a rider, the balance of power was determined quickly; while Hildr was dominant on the ground and certainly around the other horses, she was a mare who had carried many riders and knew the difference between cruel, kind, green, and confident.

The starlight gave Siv enough to see the open land before her, and she wondered just how far the woman had gone. Smoke was what gave them away, and as she followed this scent, she soon found the pinprick of light in the darkness. Without hesitation she rode closer, mane billowing around her willowy frame as the wind howled. On the ground alone she was a sight to behold, a behemoth herself—on the horse she was a thing of nightmares, a giantess. There was no formal announcement of her presence, for the noise of the horse would likely announce her well enough.

Eris is by me!

(366)

The dark woman had been poisoned by thoughts of Shibboleth through her pregnancy. She wondered if these thoughts had been enough to spoil the unexpected child in her belly. Surely, if Eris had known, she would not have spent even a moment contemplating her dead daughter. Now, however, the hybrid thought perhaps it was Basilaris's sister-spirits that had shaped him so delicately within her. Perhaps Solanaceae had carried him into the breathing world early, for her body would not hold him any longer. Certainly -- she had engaged in her rituals and ingested her chemicals prior to realizing her pregnancy.

Now, her thoughts pointed forward; she thought only of Larkspur's return, and how she would show the child to him. Her old triumph would be present as it always was, but there would be something else there, too. Perhaps it was the return of their initial spark, whatever spiritual chemistry that had drawn them together returning to them. Eris thought not -- this felt like something entirely different. Where he had consumed her at first, this felt less like burning need and more like simple desire. She wanted him to return to her and be hers, and she wanted him to share this lovely son.

A sound drew her attention, and the dark hybrid turned to meet it, though without any of the ferocity she might have greeted sounds from the north. She inhaled sharply, but smelled only the fire and the salty breeze. A large figure, enshrouded with shade, loomed before them. Molca cowered, but it did not seem an exceptionally fearful cower; Eris took it the slave, with her closer position, recognized the stranger still several feet away. For her part, Eris stood, rounding the fire with slow steps. Her chartreuse eyes were narrowed to discern the newcomer's identity.

Siv, the hybrid said, her greeting colder than it might have been to one of her preferred Associates -- no, Family. Siv was part of the Family now, she must not forget this. Eris remained where she was, eager to undertake -- and end -- the customary nuzzle greeting. She could not until the woman dismounted, however, and so she stood, faint annoyance rising within her.

There were two of them, hovering around the small fire as if this might hold off the night. Siv did not fear the darkness, nor did she fear the things within it—she was a realistic woman and knew that while gods and demons were capable of being real (for hers were, truly) they were unlikely to walk with earthly feet. Men were beasts, of course, but she trusted the horse and she trusted her own instincts to guide her. Still, she did not fail to miss that there was something—aggression, perhaps, or simply avarice—within the Dark Lady’s tone. A pity; Siv had hoped that Eris would at least show her some respect now that she was Family.

The dismount was slow, but she did so careful of her step. With the reigns looped around one arm, she advanced towards the smaller woman and dipped her body gracefully, exchanging the customary greeting before she rose to address the woman. “Eris. You are a difficult woman to find,” the witch smiled to show this was a lie. This was no fault of her own; she always seemed to miss the Eternity woman by mere moments. These coincidences had been piling up since her arrival and stuck to the back of her throat in an irritable way. Yet she did not speak this aloud, though it was apparent in her amethyst colored eyes and subtle smile. To outright disrespect the Auxiliary would be blasphemy, and Siv was anything but foolish.

(314)

Eris is by Poppz!

The dark-furred hybrid had not been avoiding Siv, exactly, but perhaps she had been careful to wander away at any indication the newly inducted Family member was headed her way. She had made no move to seek the sable woman out, either. Eris wasn't sure if that could be called avoiding Siv, exactly, but perhaps it was, all the same. After dipping forward to receive and deliver their customary nuzzles, Eris smiled, although it was a shade of her usual devilish grin. Molcaxitl bent to the fire and put another small log upon it, though she dared not interrupt the palaver of her superiors.

She did flick her ears back, showing a tinge of remorse in withdrawn ears and a look of faintly troubled consternation. I will seek you, Siv -- I did not realize I was making myself quite so unavailable to you, Eris added, though this was as big a lie as if she'd said two pale white wolves stood here conversing. The dark woman did not apologize for her transgression, and she did not exactly admit fault, either -- the sable Auxiliary was not so careless as to openly admit having ignored one of their family, especially not to that ignored soul's face.

My son, who surprised me and the world -- he will keep me busy, as will winter, but I will seek you out, the coyote said, perfectly aware such phrasing might spin an accusation back around to her silver-tinged packmate. Who was Siv to demand her persence, if Eris had a child to care for? There was, of course, no direct accusation within the sable Auxiliary's words. She was not so careless as to state such a thing openly, but the implication was there, if her larger companion chose to detect it. What brings you this way? the coyote inquired. Surely not my scent alone?

(333)

There were rules and protocol within the strange pack of thistle and shadow, and Siv was cautious where she tread. An intelligent woman by birth and by upbringing, she knew the laws of hierarchy and leadership because once all had bowed before her—save those elder sister-witches who had once served roles like Eris. Sharp purple eyes turned dark as she studied the shade on the hybrids face. There was power in her, but it was not simply power gained by rank. Magic lived in her even if it was not the magic that Siv understood. They were so similar in many ways; with doubt and logic and such things, but they were yet so different that Siv could not touch this shade.

A low bow of her head was offered, and the smile upon her face did not falter. There was fault through both of them, though Siv was almost certain it did not belong to her alone. Respectfully she remained quiet, only shushing the mare behind her at a slight noise, though the spotted horse was content to go about grazing when her head was given slack. Siv would not allow her to roam; she could not risk that the mare might flee with such opportunity.

“Forgive me, Auxiliary,” the dark woman began, keeping her eyes low on the obvious swollen breasts of the new-mother. The signs would have been obvious, she thought…but one child was rare, especially for a mother who had boasted such large litters before. “I was out trying this gift from our Lord Hunter,” she explained, motioning to the mare behind her. “Yet indeed, I came seeking you.”

To move this along, she returned to the saddle-bag. A package wrapped in hide was produced, a soft-leather thing that was without interest save for the exquisite merchandise within. “I could not properly present alms for your gift of a home, Lady Eris.” She extened her hand, and the package, carefully as if she suspected it might be rejected.

(315)

Eris is by Kiri!

Why should any of Salsola know of Basilaris yet? She had told no one; she awaited the pale child's father and would give him first rights over his child. His, she was sure of this. Basilaris would carry her surname, but he would be Larkspur's son. She would make sure of this. They had their daughters and she had her Pandemic, but Basilaris lived for his father. Larkspur should be the first to know of Basilaris, not the peons and proles of Salsola.

There was perhaps an instant of hesitation from the sable woman, a momentary reconsideration of her avoidance of Siv and subtle remark. It passed quickly in jealousy as her chartreuse eyes shifted to the horse just behind Siv, and the sable Auxiliary saw the giant horse for its worth. Though she knew nothing of horsemanship and less of how to deal with her own horse, Eris was jealous all the same, and the faint smile she gave might have been chiseled from ice. Why should Siv receive gifts from Sirius? Eris loathed that any other woman of the pack received his attention; though she had a man of her own, and a good one at that, she wanted her Boss all the same. Perhaps that was as it was for all the women. It wouldn't surprise her if this was so.

Jealousy was forgotten quickly, however, as the dark woman's gaze lit on the package extended forward. It was large, and wrapped with leather that gave beneath her fingers, pressing into whatever was wrapped into the bundle. She looked at it a moment, turning it over in her hands. What loveliness is this? she murmured, tugging gently at the wrappings. Come here, the woman commanded, and her coyote stepped forward, extending her hands to take the package so Eris might unwrap it without anything falling to the earth.

(360)

There, she saw the glimmer of jealousy within the green-yellow gaze of the hybrid and saw that she too had been caught within the web of their Hunter Lord’s seduction. Siv alone seemed immune to it—she reckoned this to her own magic, and to her high standards. Obviously, power made a man great. Siv was petty, though, and she was petty enough to think of him as somehow lesser because of his size. She would not have hybrid children. They would be strong and tall as she, and this was what prompted her to eyeball a mate who was physically capable of such a task. The strength of a man was not spirit alone, as some of her witch-sisters seemed to believe.

Yet Siv said nothing of this, not believing that Eris had yet earned the right to learn of these old ways. This black cow had been nothing but rude to her upon arrival, and since avoided her as if she carried a plague. It was valuable to overcome her own spurred feelings, if not for her sake, for those of her girl-child. Salsola would make the strange girl strong, even if it cost Siv to see such an idea through. She was patient, though. Reykr had proven himself a disappointment, growing mouthy and self-righteous since his departure. Siv had no use for a man who would spurn her, especially give their history together. This was why she would not tell him of their daughter. No one would know as long as she lived, come hell or high water.

At the command, two slow and graceful steps were taken forward to present the package. She lingered just out of true reach, letting her horse trail behind her. “There are some secrets meant for women alone. This is one I know; such color is not seen outside of my home unless we trade it, and even those who know such skills are few.” Blood ties alone kept white leather flowing through the Hearg; it was a complicated process of little value within their pack, but outside, she had been told of the worth of such a rare dying technique.

(462)

Eris is by Kiri!

The dark woman would have attributed Sirius's attraction for the simple quality of his leadership. Alphas were always desirable, regardless of their physical appearance. It helped they were typically regal, physically befitting their rank. Sirius's draw, however, had existed even before he had become a leader. She had felt his sway even in Anathema, and although perhaps that might have been attributed to his incipient leadership, as they were planning Salsola even then, Eris thought not. There was something more to the tawny wolf, she was certain of it. A king's blood flowed through his veins, perhaps some ancient remnant of a dynasty extinct long before even the humans suffered their own extinction.

The coyote slave held the package delicately, and Eris pulled at the wrappings even more delicately, unfolding the sleek white leather gift. It unfurled as she grasped it by the shoulders, a long and beautifully white thing. Eris could not suppress a soft growl of pleasure at the sight of the thing, sweeping it toward her and holding the silky garment to her body. This is truly magnificent, the woman said, no hint of begrudging in her tone. Molca squeaked, and Eris looked to find she clutched something else in her hand, what appeared to be a shoulder-slinging bag with a thick attachment of fur. The hybrid exchanged her pale leather clothes for the bag, clutching at it fiercely and stroking at the mottled fur. Molca stood awkwardly, holding the white garment above the earth so it would not be dirtied.

Thank you, Siv, the coyote said, turning back toward her Family member with genuine gratitude somewhere beneath her entitlement. Yes, as The Auxiliary, Eris was entitled to such gifts, but such finery did not emerge from one's hands when constructing a gift such as this without real and true love behind the it. How wonderfully pale and soft it is, the coyote said, reaching an admiring hand for the white leather again, stroking at it softly. I should like to wear it now, the coyote directed to Molcaxitl, who obediently lifted the dress above Eris, bunching it so the dark hybrid could slide into the bottom.

The dark woman exchanged the purse from one hand to the other so she could slide her arms into their places, and gave another pleased growl as the thing slid comfortably over her, fitting tautly over her curves. A pale cape extended from the back of it, reminding Eris of the pale silver fox's cloak she kept at home. The warmth, for such a small garment, was strangely palpable, and Eris gave a half-spin and a devilish grin, presenting herself with a flourish of one hand. Lovely, the coyote said, clearly satisfied with this gift.

(219)

While she did not think of herself of egotistical, or even a creature driven by such things, Siv was not above such emotions. She beamed clearly at the praise, aware of the time and the talent put into the product at hand. White leather was a commodity rarely made. Ammonia needed to be collected, and this was best procured through her own body. This was why she did not enjoy the process, but it produced a truly remarkable outcome. As long as she kept her secret (and Siv was great and doing this) then white leather would belong to her bloodline alone.

Another bow was given to the dark woman to show her pleasure. When she lifted her head again, the dark woman had begun donning the clothing. This was where she worried; her measurements had been guessed on appearance alone, for Eris was far shorter and heavier than the willowy witch. She was pleased to see they were close, if not perfect, and perhaps just a tad off in an area or two…but they looked pleasing on the dark woman well enough. “It suits you,” Siv echoed, purple eyes dark with pleasure. “I would like to make you something to match your eyes, but all of my green dye was used. Perhaps early spring will provide suitable resources.”

(306)

Eris is by Kiri!

The dark-hued woman marveled at not only the color, which was pale as the silver moon, but the fit, as well. It would seem Siv had gotten her measurements perfectly, and yet Eris knew the ash-tipped woman had not actually taken measurements of her body. The sable woman would have remembered such a thing, and she had been actively avoiding Siv, as well, so even a visual estimate of Eris's measurements would have been difficult. The chartreuse-eyed woman peered at her companion as she spoke, her grin growing broader at the promise of further gifting.

That would be lovely. You should wear your color, as well -- purple is the hue of royalty, after all, the woman said, giving little thought to the comment. Perhaps Siv would interpret it as Eris meant it, that the tall woman had exquisite eyes, but perhaps she might take it as a challenge, as well. In either case, Eris did not consider the ramifications of such a comment, and its potential weight slipped her mind entirely. I must ask -- how did you know my shape so well? Even my cape -- well, Larkspur's slave is skilled, no doubt, but I might have liked it a little shorter, so it doesn't drag on the ground and get so dirty. This is perfection, the hybrid said, caring little if she appeared to gush at the gift. She was so very fond of things given freely to her, and this was just such a lovely gift.

Besides, who was here to see them? Only Molcaxitl, and the slave-girl would never speak at such about her mistress without permission. If Siv later told the rest of Salsola how Eris had fawned over her gift, they'd likely think the Family member boasting and exaggerating the truth in her boasts.

(277)

Royalty. Siv did not speak on this comment, but her mind was sharp and this did not go unchecked. Purple did not merely signify such noble blood but also a spiritual connection; she believed this was not entirely strange after all. A true witch, especially one born with such talent, would have eyes of an unusual shade. This was a superstitious belief but one she had not seen disputed yet. Who, after all, could dispute her own claim? Reykr knew the truth of her magic, and she was weaving yet further spells upon the men here. Sirius would take time—he was wary of her and distractions abounded. A coyote girl with a soft face or a harlot with perfumed hair could distract their Hunter Lord long enough to keep her intentions in the dark until it was much too late.

She smiled secretly and felt the pride in her chest swell to bursting. “Some eyes are made to see what others cannot; your daughter knows beasts, after all—I have seen her with the horses. I need only study a person to make them clothes; odd shapes are harder. Now that I have seen you in this I will better be able to make you such garments in the future.” There was no mention of the flaws she herself now saw; likewise, Eris would eventually lose the baby weight that clung to her frame. Of course, Siv was not sure that the dark woman would ever be truly lean—she was too thick of frame. Broad shouldered and hipped, and long-since widened from birth, her body would never tighten and shrink as a young woman’s might.

(308)

Eris is by Kiri!

At the mention of Salvia, her ears flicked backwards, and she peered at Siv with a novation of strain upon her dark face. She loved her Salvia, it was true, but the girl had been distant, at best, since before Ataxia, Artemisia, and Harrow were born. How would she look upon Basilaris? The dark hybrid did not know, and part her did not even wish to know. Her son could not be tainted with rejection, and there was something greater to fear in Salvia. Inhaling sharply, the woman shook her head, the faint smile upon her coal-hued muzzle tinged with sadness.

Beast-magic is all Salvia has, I think, the coyote confessed. It was alright to confess such things, even to one such as Siv. It was not her own failing she spoke of, but her daughter's. It was not Eris's choice whether magic ran in the blood of her daughters or not -- this was chance and fate combining, the simple luck of the draw. Where Basilaris seemed dipped in otherworldly spiritual soup at birth, Salvia's magic was dead and dull, restricted to that of beasts. No doubt, a useful skill, but certainly not magic as powerful as Eris's own, or even Siv's.

I would look forward to your gifts, cousin, the woman said, allowing the term to fall from her maw cautiously. Siv was no sister, she was no Tlantli and no Xochime, but she was Family, all the same. Distant cousin or not, Eris was required to show her due respect, and perhaps Eris would from this moment forth. It was the least she owed Siv for presenting her with such finery as this white garment and the colorfully furred purse. Trust was a matter entirely separate from respect, and Eris knew she could keep that to herself easily enough.

(220)

“There is no shame in her skill,” Siv countered quickly, though her tone was respectful. If Eris thought that her daughter was without power she was wrong. A brief encounter had proven such a thing to the tall woman, who had a talent for recognizing the skill that others did not see. It was one of many powers she claimed to have—it was why she so quickly saw and recognized Eris for a witch and Sirius for what he truly was. “Nor,” she went on, smiling more honestly now. “Do I think that is all she can claim.”

A moment of doubt lingered in her. Siv was yet a stranger here despite her title, and she feared what could be said would be taken wrong. Suddenly serious, her smile faded. “I think I must speak to you of my magics, my Lady. Though,” her tone shifted, suspicious and cold. “I do not think it is for all ears.” She did not look to the slave, though it was clearly implied this was whom she meant. To teach someone unworthy of the gift (for slaves, as this culture taught, were lesser) would be to hand an apprentice powers without training. It went beyond her realm of trust to speak to someone she did not consider v ölva on the matter.

(394)

Eris is by Poppz!

The dark woman looked up at Siv, ready to rally her defenses. Eris should have known better than to let the novation of genuine appreciation for Siv creep into her. She had been right not to trust the sable woman -- here she had been given perhaps an inch of rope, and she'd taken it in her teeth and gone running. The hybrid was just readying herself to speak, already storminess showing on her coal-hued face, when the lavender-eyed woman again spoke. This stunned Eris into silence, and the woman peered at her curiously now, all anger drained from her face.

The dark hybrid listened in earnest, turning to Axi without hesitation when her larger counterpart had finished speaking. Molcaxitl, leave us. Head south to Salsola. Stop walking when you've left earshot, the hybrid said. She did not think the little coyote would have cared one way or another, but Eris did not wish to be left entirely alone with Siv out here. Surely, others would know both women came out to Amherst, but that Siv would be caught and punished for her murder would make Eris no less dead. Or no less mad, if Siv chose instead to cast some spell which induced such a state in the coal-hued Auxiliary.

Yes, mistress, the woman murmured, keen on Eris's meaning and without any questions for her dark owner. The tawny coyote scurried away, head and tail tucked low. Her pace was even low to the ground and hunched. A stab of pity struck Eris; it was a good thing Molcaxitl was her slave, else she might face all manner of injustices in the cruel world. Eris at least did not inflict terrible cruelties on her coyote slave. The dark woman watched her slave go, turning toward Siv when the little woman was nothing but a distant shadow.

I would be interested to hear whatever it is you'll tell me, the woman said, her voice taking a queer grave tone. It was not one Eris adopted often, but she felt matters of spirituality carried heavy importance. This was no exception, no matter how much she distrusted Siv. The woman's magic was utterly undeniable; Eris could very nearly see it in the air around her, bubbling and boiling forth from every pore of the dark Family member's skin.

(832)

A part of her was sympathetic towards the woman who was thus exiled from the fire and from the heat. Siv, however, said nothing of this. It was not her place to tell anyone, especially the Auxiliary, how to treat their slaves. It was not if, truly, the woman was being abused. Only one of the slaves showed true signs of abuse, but the witch-womanw as certain it had not been unjust. There were obvious rules when it came to such things—as property, destroying or damaging this would cost Salsola and therefore cost the member responsible. She slackened the reins of the horse and allowed the mare more room to graze so that the women might take advantage of the warmth. How long ago had it been now, since she had done this with the silent girl in the forest? She did not recall; while she tracked days in her own way, it was either early morning or still very late now.

With a gesture, Siv indicated that Eris should take her place back by the fire. It was not until the leader sat that she followed suit, purple eyes gleaming in the yellow-orange light of the flames. “I knew you were völva when I first saw you; magic flows in you, as it flows in the symbol you wear.” The spiral was not unfamiliar to her, but she had not seen it used exclusively before. Hearg artists favored sharper lines and diagonal corners as opposed to curves. “One is born with magic in their blood. Men are less likely to have such gifts; they are not favored for it. Magic belongs to women, and this is why I know your daughter has more magic within her than the gift of beasts, of the Hunter.”

Siv spoke in a very animate way, using her hands to accent her words. This too, was done out of habit. Motion distracted while magic occurred—she did not use her words as a spell here, but it was obvious that she was a powerful speaker and confident with her words. Even the swell of her voice, rising and falling as she breathed, was planned and thought out. She never stopped entirely to gasp for air, even though she spoke without pause. “My fellow völva taught me of old magic. I will one day share this with your Family—with my Family,” she added, correcting herself. “If you would allow it. It is ancient, and very powerful; one does not invoke my Father or his children unless they truly believe.” She said this with a conviction that had been lacking within her for months. Yet now she had seen, and heard, and knew the truth. Things had simplified for her again.

“Men’s magic is collected within their wand; their organ. A man can hold no power over a woman without such a tool—he may speak and fight and go on living, but he has no magic left. Some men are given greater magic than others. Our Lord Hunter can speak in such ways I would not doubt it may linger in him, but like your daughter, he belongs to other worlds.” Siv did not even think of explaining the realms to Eris yet, well aware of how peculiar the idea would sound. Stories needed told first; she would have to convince them of her claim and of her gods validity before she even attempted to convert.

The dark woman leaned forward, thick hair tumbling over her shoulders. In the firelight, the gem on her head glimmered brightly—almost, but not the same shade, as her eyes. “Women are stronger then men when it comes to this magic because we have the power of weaving. If we so desire, we can capture them body and spirit. I myself,” she began, wondering if such admittances would be in her best interest. “, hold such a claim. It is why I use his name and not my own; if I take a mate, I will do the same. There is power in using such titles—for you to use the name of your father is to pull upon his strength, you see. Your children claim such strength by the titles given.”

This was a simple way of explaining the surname she carried, and justifying its use to the dark coyote. Siv did not think she needed Reykr’s name anymore, but she would use it (and her daughter would continue to use it) until another man presented himself. Magic was not one-dimensional; she could lay her traps throughout the vast collection of those around her, as she was certain the other women might one day try. After all, she had not been blind during their supper; she had seen how the dark stranger had looked at their Boss, and knew she too was seeking to control him as was the way of women. Perhaps, if Eris was unaware of this, Siv would make such a point to her tonight.

Eris is by me!

A great part of Eris was endlessly glad she had not been raised within Inferni. Harsh as Eterne had been to her in the end, the dark-furred coyote thought Inferni was, for the most part, without its magic. The blood that ran through the old woman's veins held its own power, true enough, but whatever lurked in Eris's mother's blood was far older than even the ancient and scarred woman herself. It was of an utterly feral nature, and Eris felt it course through her veins like fire at times, all the rage and madness of generations boiled and distilled into her.

She knew only what knowledge Kaena had passed along regarding Salvaged, as well as Tayui's slander, but the sable-furred woman did not think her father had been entirely absent from her life. He was certainly dead as a doornail shortly after she was conceived, this was true, but she had seen the shifting, green-eyed monster in her visions and in her dreams. She had seen him more times than she could count -- perhaps a part of her had always known, but all that she had suspected was confirmed upon her mother's story, that night when Eris had been just showing with Salvia, Pandemic, and Wretch.

The coyote settled beside her fire, onto one of the larger branches Molcaxitl had struggled to bring to Eris. She tucked her legs up and into her body, pulling the white cape around her body so it would not drag against the ground and become dirtied. She knew from her fox-pelt cloak just how quickly such pale garments could become irrevocably dirty; already the lowest edges of her fox-cloak were turning gray with age, and Molcaxitl dared not soak it completely. She could deal with silver rather than pale white, however, and she thought this leather would hold its color much longer than the fox fur.

Her chartreuse eyes turned toward her companion, and she listened to Siv speak at length. Her ears curved toward the woman, and her eyes rarely left the sparkling bright gem on Siv's forehead, despite the silver-tinged woman's motions and movements. The thing captivated her eyes, it seemed, and for once, there was no jealousy in the sable-shaded Auxiliary's gaze. Instead, she listened with an opened mind, as was typical when others shared their beliefs with her. The dark woman picked and chose what she would from the beliefs of others, and it dismayed her to know of Siv's gods. She paid her respects to Larkspur's, for she had seen what befell those who spoke ill of them. Were these more powers to which she must bow her head?

She found herself agreeing with the silvery woman as Siv elaborated. Men were not without their magics, true enough, but a powerful man was rare. Eris thought her dear Pandemic was dead with magic; what her dark son held in power, he derived from Larkspur's gods, and not his own self. She nodded enthusiastically as the woman spoke of Sirius. Their Boss would never admit such, and he might have gone so far as to silence those who would suggest such to his face, but Eris knew it to be true, and she would not punish Siv for speaking such truths to her. This was, after all, between women.

The coyote leaned in involuntarily and subconsciously as the dark woman before her did, the heat of fire against her face burning like fever. Her bright gaze caught the fire's light and swallowed it, both eyes seemingly lit from within. The coyote's head tilted almost imperceptibly, however, and a look of consternation came across her face. She did not understand this last thing Siv suggested; was it to take Larkspur's surname, or for him to take hers? She thought the former belittling of herself, and the latter likely to anger Larkspur's vengeful gods. Still, this one inconsistency did not make the rest of Siv's words any less truthful. The woman found herself needing to pause and collect her thoughts a moment before responding, which she did after she had leaned back to take stock of her own mind.

You speak truth of names, of women and men, and truth of our dear Boss. Men are given the physical strengths and dominance, but women hold truer power. It was like Eris to agree with one who gasconaded the superiority of women. This belief had held true from Eterne, and the dark-hued woman would be unlikely to relinquish it in life -- things that had held fast from her time in the far south were near permanent. Itzcitla would never be traded, though she might someday tire of Sandalio, rare as the owl was. Her spiral necklace might be temporarily removed in favor of more extravagant accessories on special occasion, but she would always replace it afterward.

But what you suggest of surnames -- am I to take Larkspur's, or he mine? Her tone was dubious enough, but the furrowed brow spoke her rejection of the idea all too plainly, her ears flicked half-mast to show further doubt. I would learn what you teach me, Siv, I would -- but I hope you do not expect me to blindly accept all you teach, the coyote said, entirely forgetful of whatever earlier resentment she'd held toward the silver-hued woman. She would remember it later, but for the moment, the conversation had enraptured her, and the dark-hued woman was barely aware of her conversational partner, instead stuck on the word the silver-hued woman had used, and its strange sound -- völva.

Eris hesitated a moment before continuing. I have told you my surname's origin, but not its importance to me, nor of the man who sired me, the coyote said, wishing to delve no further into this derailing tangent while on the subject of spirituality. There is power in it, as you've said, and I would not like to upset the balance I have crafted with it and Larkspur, the coyote added. She wished to share the same name as Basilaris, as Artemisia, as Salvia. She almost spoke of Reykr, and thought better of it -- she would see if they sang the same songs of their gods, or if she would find a radically different Father in Siv's life. It would not have surprised her -- for one who spoke of men and women as so separate, it would have been as she expected if their homeland segregated their religious teachings and services.

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As part of her training, Siv looked for the signs Eris gave so clearly. She did not need to look into her eyes to see which parts of this speech bothered her, nor did she need to study the way Eris moved to make sense of her as a person. Faith was a hard thing to discuss, and she was certain her ways were not those of this place. To make waves, though, she needed to throw stones.

Siv smiled knowingly when her Queen spoke of the true power of women. It was a nearly universal idea from what she understood, though her world was very small. She would have balked to hear of a land where women were seem as less, as property, and this was perhaps why she disliked seeing them as slaves…but again, she was a woman who found power and took it when she could.

So to hear the doubt in regards to her claim of names, the witch-woman lowered her head and shook it slightly. “I suggest nothing of that nature, my lady. A name can only be taken by a woman; if you chose your father’s name then you claimed the power there. It would be no use to you to claim that of your mate. If Larkspur,” she said the name hesitantly, unsure of her place to use such informality. “Does not carry as much magic as the name you chose, you have chosen wisely. I am sure you did not doubt it when you claimed the title.” No, she was certain Eris did not doubt many of her choices. She was too proud a creature for such a thing.

“I am honored for your ear, Lady Eris. You know much of magic, and I too, would like to learn from you. I know only a little of this place, of your faith, and I wish to know all I can.” She smiled. If she understood what it was that held this faith she would be able to better manipulate her own position within the Family. This was her ultimate goal despite her newly-restored faith, and she would see to it one way or another.

Eris is by Nat!

Siv was a creature of the night, as was Eris. The raven-hued Auxiliary, however, could not help but feel a twinge of apprehension in her still as Siv spoke again, clarifying her meaning with a firmness that startled -- but did not agitate -- the dark-hued woman. Siv seemed utterly confident in herself, and the dark-hued woman could certainly understand why. Looking as she did, living where she'd lived... there was no doubt to the coal-shaded wolf what magic and power Siv held, she clutched it behind her back, concealed as a shiv meant to stab an unsuspecting victim.

And yet, despite her misgivings, the sable Auxiliary could not help herself where it came to these powers and magics. She would have them and know them all, damn the cost to her soul. Eris did not believe in sin or heaven and hell, anyway, so what did it matter? The only thing that mattered in the end was her own advancement, and in amalgamating Siv's magics with her own, Eris grew more powerful still. She nodded, agreeing with the the purple-eyed woman's words. Larkspur's surname contained plenty of magic, certainly, but it did not equal to that of a dead demon. Her own father's soul had possessed a shadow, rather like that which had obscured Haku Soul's soul -- perhaps Eris had taken some of that shade with her surname, but if not, the name alone -- which she alone had, delivering to her children alone -- held power in and of itself. One need only peruse a dictionary to be certain of this.

Then we shall give and take of one another, she declared, grinning her toothy serpent's smile. I was fearful of you at first, Siv, the coyote said, the smile disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared on her coal-hued muzzle. This was honesty, and the dark-hued woman hoped her companion understood the price of honesty within their pack. I am not stupid or cowardly to fear powers greater than my own. On the contrary, the coyote said, her chartreuse eyes shifting to the fire. It was growing steadily lower without Molcaxitl to tend it, but Eris was not cold. No matter, though, for we can each learn something of one another, she finished, quite certain of this. Fusion was strength; this was the very policy on which Salsola was formed. They were one cohesive Family, regardless of blood.