power is power
#1
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A curious tiger’s gaze watched, silently, full of pent-up violence, as her mother faltered. To mourn was one thing; she had seen them mourn at the pyre despite the witch-woman’s words of providence and celebration. It perturbed some part of her to see her mother fall, but she was a rational girl, and she had been rational for eons now. Sirius had begun it when she was a child and still green with envy. Salvia did not feel much at all these days. Her world had been shattered but she had endured as was the destiny of those held to higher purpose. One did not need to be magic to understand that.

She was nude, well-muscled and compact despite her height, glistening sandy-black in the foliage. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a careful ponytail, fashioned by a slave stolen from her very mother. TK’s purpose was still great, but for Pandemic now, and not his clever sister. Her aspirations required something much greater.

Boldly and without trepidation she stalked forward, following the black shape of her cracking leader, following now because she would never do so again. Her shoulders were set, her back straight, her head high. She looked nothing like a subordinate should. Acidic eyes bore holes into the back of the woman’s head, but Salvia, while fully capable of stalking and taking down a living creature without mercy, owed that much to her mother.

“Auxiliary,” she barked. “I would speak to you.” It was a demand. It was a command.

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#2
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Eris is by James!

The world was reduced to a dull ache around her by the smokes. She did not have so much that she could inebriate herself nightly as she wanted, but she was in a bad way today and had needed its comforts. The liquor was next, she knew, but she had not dabbled in that as of yet -- tonight, anyway. Frowning, she took a step toward her ruins, and then another, and then one more. The whole earth seemed dizzy and blurred, and the ground would not remain still beneath her feet.

She was unaware of the stalker until the voice cut through the spinning world and turned her around, slowly and carefully, as if she were afraid turning too fast might make the planet spin off its axis. A deep frown set in her muzzle and she glowered toward her daughter. What -- she started, leaning over a bit too far with the cock of her head -- do you want?

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#3
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Salvia did not believe in destiny. She was a creature of the earth, fashioned with reason and logic in tow while magic and those black arts fell aside. Once, she had looked down the rabbit hole and emerged bloodied and far from enlightened. The world was savage, and only those true savages would survive and prosper. In her world, the strong would lead and the weak would fall in line or perish. She was a true wolf in this fashion, one long fashioned by the blood of her ancestors, demons and hellions they were. It therefore was of little surprise that she would turn on her own mother, as was the nature of younger rulers.

Her mother was sick, but not by any true disease. An illness had sunk into her mind through the weak part of her body—her heart—in the aftermath of Larkspur’s death. There had been a hole before (Salvia did not know this, of course) and a worm had made root. The blonde wolf, who was more this than the faint lingering of coyote and dog blood within her, was not so weak. Salvia loved so few, and none of these were of similar sex. Men she valued. Men had power. Her mother was not capable of standing next to a man now, while she gave into this weak impulse that belonged to lesser, pathetic creatures.

The tigress crinkled her muzzle, black whiskers curling away from pink gums, and showed her teeth. “What is mine by right,” she hissed, and took one stiff legged step forward. Her body was already tensed, her hands half-curled at her sides.

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#4
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(--)



Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

She laughed. She laughed so hard she lost her balance and fell backwards, abruptly, and landed on her rump, long black legs stretched out before her. She was still laughing, great choking laughs that were turning to coughs rapidly. When she'd caught her breath, she glowered at the tawny-pale woman, looking her over. She would have to shed blood to keep her crown, and she would surely die. But maybe that was best? Perhaps that was what she wanted. If she could not be queen, what was the worth of life, after all?

She stared up at the other woman, still breathing hard, and finally snorted. She wanted to live, crown or not. Take it, she said, wearily, and waving one hand. I am done with this mess. Take it and let it bleed you dry, darling daughter, she said, pulling her legs close to stand up again. She could not catch her balance, and slipped, frowning at the quaking ground. She gave up and sat back down, dipping her head low. Auxiliary, she said, spreading both arms out as she gave the deepest bow she was capable of, sitting on the ground as she was.

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#5
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Conquest was not what she imagined. Salvia faltered in her fierceness, if only momentarily, and blinked at the display before her. Who was this woman that would fall before her? It was not her mother. Her mother was dead to her now, gone with the corpse of her father. Eris was nothing now. Salvia could not—and would not—allow herself to be somehow owed to this wretched sight. The worm had not only rotted Eris’ mind, but her pride. This was cowardice. This was pathetic.

So she stood, looking down on the dark Queen, and took her crown with no blood and little effort. Auxiliary. No; that was her mother’s title, her mother’s crown. Salvia would fashion a new one of blood and bone and see her world rebuilt on the ashes of the pyre that had taken her father. She had not nearly died to watch Salsola fall to ruins.

“Go home,” she ordered flatly. “I will send a slave to attend to you. Do not behave in this manner in public again.” There was a faint warning within her voice. Above all others, Salvia knew the laws of her home. Disgrace from any member of her family, mother included, was unforgiveable.

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#6
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(--)



Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

The great emptiness she'd expected came flooding in all at once, and her ears pressed back into her skull, looking up at Salvia. What did she have left? All her power was Salvia's now. Even the good graces of their king and beloved boss were hers, and a great jealousy flared deeply within the woman, though she kept her face masked. Salsola was hers, built on the whispers in Anathema's caves long ago and Sirius's strength; did she have no place within it anymore? But she said, and said meekly: Yes.

She tried to rise and slipped again, grunting as she hit the ground. Huffing her displeasure, the hybrid extended both hands toward Salvia, clutching toward her. Help me, she pleaded. She did not want to be on the ground anymore; she wanted to return home as she'd been bid to do, and sleep forever underground. Please, she added, chartreuse eyes never meeting her usurper's brilliant gold-yellow gaze.

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#7
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Even though she did not love her, Salvia felt obligated by her bond to do as she was bid. The tall girl bent and helped to hoist her mother to her feet. Even though she half-cradled her, the grasp was firm and made to lead. She did not trust Eris, fearing some late-hour retaliation, but as she felt the way her body swayed and saw the glaze in her eyes, she knew there was nothing to fear. Whatever power her mother once wielded was now gone. She, by her own fruition, had claimed power with less effort than it was to slaughter a newborn fawn.

A black nose lifted to the sky and demanded one of the slaves to come to her mother’s home. With slow and patient steps, Salvia helped to guide Eris back towards her residence. They were nearly there when she spotted Darijus, hurrying as fast as his lame leg would allow it. He dropped quickly in her presence, and she showed him no quarter. Of all their captives, he was her most hated. “You are to attend to my mother,” she growled, and removed herself from the older woman’s side. “Do whatever she asks, and give her whatever she needs.”

Meekly, he nodded and took a tentative step towards the dark coyote. Though he did not speak, he extended his hands as if she might need his assistance.


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#8
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(--)



Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

Their bodies pressed close, and Eris could smell Salvia's scent. She knew it well, of course -- it was the same one she'd nestled close to her body in the Anatheman caves, the same one she'd raised and brought life to. The woman's throat was there, as well, and Eris's yellowy eyes appraised it silently, eyes roving over Salvia even as she wrapped an arm around the hybrid's ribs to steady herself. In the end, her muzzle bent toward the ground and she allowed herself to be led back to her ruins meekly, head lowered and tail tucked between her legs.

The dark hybrid spied their mauled slave, and when Salvia stepped away from her, she moved into her ruins without his assistance, swaying beneath the ram's head perched on her doorframe, such as it was. She did not turn back to look toward her daughter; instead, she merely disappeared into the lean-to shack at the rear of her cave, slipping beneath the pelt coverings that served as its door. The sounds of a match and coughing were heard shortly thereafter, along with the pop of a bottletop.

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