Bring the rolling thunder
#1
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Word Count :: 415for Siv so they can have crazy feminist moments; she's looking for a slave to help build her tree shrine. (also could talk about Siv getting Isa a slave since I have the points for one cSmile

Her lips pursed as she watched the flame putter out on the candle's wick. The smoke drifted up and she leaned back onto her rear. She had been kneeling for the past five minutes when she noticed the candle flickering to death. The small corner was too small for her tastes. It was no longer acceptable that her shrine to the Mother was hiding in her house instead of outside where it belonged. She had found a hollowed out tree that would have worked beautifully for a shrine, as long as a shelf was placed into it. Even more wonderful was the fact that the tree was charred from a lightning strike or a fire of some sort so any candles would not set it flaming. It could be tucked against her home, so that she could pray and muse under the Mother's sky and open to her green breath.


Yet, Isabella found herself stuck. Her body was designed to give allure and make men eager for her touch. Her curvacious body was not made to move heavy things and to dirty her hands with charred tree hollows. The most her hands could dirty themselves with was gardening and trimming bushes for their flowers or scented leaves. A slave would have to be found to do this for her, a male one so that the work would go fast and she would not need to find herself a replacement. She really needed to get her own slave, a male one with the strength to move whatever she needed. But that would have to wait for now, since she desperately needed one to do her bidding. Normally, she would not have been glad to have a slave focused culture in her home but the Mother would forgive. And it was downright convenient.


The gypsy woman headed to the shack the slaves were given to live in when they weren't owned by anyone specifically. She desperately wanted someone who could simply do what she told him to and he would get it done. Even someone who could listen and do whatever she wanted him to do. It was simple. For now she was stuck getting a communal slave to do her bidding, but it was not the same. She did not want to go find one that was available. A personal one would always be on hand. Hands crossed and face serious, Isabella strolled to the slaves' home, hopefully to find a waiting slave.


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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#2
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Gjalda is still there, so pp him as much as you want.


Three slaves was not enough. To be fair, they had more than three, but Siv could not consider those who served a single master amongst them. Each wolf seemed to think their way of discipline and training was the best, and she supposed this was fair. It kept the other three open to those who might call upon them, and she suspected, in the days to come, that this would become more common. With so many children underfoot, there would be needs and demands for more—more eyes, more space, more things that needed done or watched or built.

She was busy overlooking a wound on Gjalda’s arm. It was minor, but he had expressed concern about it. Apparently, or so she gathered from the garbled mess of words he used, something had fallen on him while working on further expansion of the barn. Siv decided it was minor enough not to truly cause concern, but gave him a clean strip of cloth to wrap it up. He had been cautious about telling her about the pain, but she gave him something none the less. Once he had been bandaged and medicated, she turned to leave.

To her surprise, the doggish gypsy she knew only by sight and scent entered. Siv towered over her, but she towered over nearly every member of the Family. She smiled faintly and dropped her head to exchange the proper muzzle-to-muzzle greeting. “Isabella, isn’t it? What brings you here?”


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#3
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Word Count :: 261Sounds good Big Grin

Isabella glanced up in surprise to see the Thistle Kingdom's slavemaster before her. The woman was tall and she was familiar, only from her presence at Suppers and other meetings. Other than that, she knew nothing about the woman nor her presence here. The dark woman initiated the muzzle touch that was a greeting, and the gypsy woman returned it with a faint smile on her lips. It was not a greeting she was accustomed to, but most of her visitors wanted nothing to do with affection. They were interested in other things, varying by their needs.


"Yes, Isabella it is. You are.. Siv? I'm sorry, we've not been introduced," she said apologetically, shaking her head slightly. Isabella let the French lilt in her voice drop a bit, to keep her words slightly more understandable. "I came to find a slave. I have the need for one to move something for me. It's too heavy for me to bother trying." She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. It was a simple thing, but she had not been expecting to find the slavemaster here. Perhaps she would know of a slave that would be suitable for the work.


Isabella looked around the woman at the slave and furrowed her brows. He seemed to have been hurt. Turning back to the dark tall woman, the gypsy inquired, "Is something wrong with him? Did the fool hurt himself?" There was tangible disdain for the slave, with the male pronouns accented with a certain vocal change. Men were such stupid creatures.


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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#4
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(305)Slight PP, figured they could go to Isabella's place? :O SECRET LADY MEETING. Also, I totally picture Irene Adler when I think about Isabella. :|


As she understood it, this woman was much like the coyote who had just recently bore Sirius’ children. She was chosen, perhaps not for her worth, but instead for how she fit into the jewels lining the Thistle King’s crown. This was what Siv suspected, though she saw something sharp and dangerous in the pale eyes before her. It was carefully hidden, but oh, she sensed it because a liar will always know another liar. Her lips came together in a faint smile, the too-long canines glinting from where they hung, always visible, the true sign that she was not what she seemed.

“Yes,” she affirmed, and lifted both ears high at the mention of the need for a slave. Being her realm of expertise, she was quite certain that the communal ones they had were hardly able to be spared. They needed more, and soon. Her smile faded into a contemplative frown until the question cut through her thoughts. Siv’s eyes trailed back to Gjalda, who kept his gaze on the ground but was obviously listening. Good—Siv used the moment as an opportunity to further enforce her authority over him.

“He made a mistake while working; he’s lucky the wound was not severe, or he might find his use wearing thin. You,” she said sharply, and the slave looked up at her voice. “Come with us.” Siv motioned for Isabella to lead the way, but kept at her side. She was curious about the woman. “I’m sorry we have so little to offer you; I must travel south soon and procure more—perhaps you would be interested in having a man to serve you solely?” Her tone suggested that she suspected Isabella was used to making men bow to her, something that Siv could have noticed even without Sirius’ obvious gift and favors.

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#5
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Word Count :: 376I am replying right now because that is the best thing i've ever heard. I love Irene Big Grin (and the pp was tots kay)

The gypsy could feel the other woman's gaze peering into her. Whatever the other woman was thinking, Isabella could not fathom. It was definitely intriguing, especially with the way the woman smiled slightly. Whatever opinion she had made upon her inspection was a good one, hopefully. But she could see that this woman was cut from the same mold as she was, though she wore her intelligence more upon her sleeve than Isabella did. Certainly nothing wrong with such a thing, as they had different purposes and duties in life. Siv was taller and clearly more of a match for a male physically, so perhaps it was less necessary for her to disguise herself. Or perhaps it was all in Isabella's head.


She shook her head at the slave's folly, then let a smile poke at the corners of her lips at the woman's authoritative orders. The slave rose and followed behind the slavemistress, and Isabella found herself respecting the woman all that much more. A firm hand with slaves always seemed necessary. Bowing her head in slight thanks, she began to lead the three of them toward her home in the ruins. She did the best she could to keep her hair over the scar across her chest. What a disgusting thing. "At least he is still good to work. A slave who can't do anything is certainly no use to anyone," she said with a glare to the slave.


They truly did need more slaves for general use. Isabella waved her hand and rolled her shoulders in another shrug. "It's alright, I can hardly always expect a slave to be lazing and ready for my orders." She had been damn lucky to find one the last few times she had needed one. In the future though.. she might not be so lucky. But the other woman's suggestion was definitely something she had considered. "I would never say no to a male slave. They have their uses. And it's always a pleasure to see them meekly obey," she added with a grin bearing pearly teeth. "I would be happy with more communal ones, though a personal slave..," she paused, looking at the injured Gjada. "Would be preferred."


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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#6
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For as outspoken and commanding as she was, Siv hardly betrayed her true nature beyond glimpses of intelligence. Enough, of course, to make her look wise. Enough to suggest she was somehow given greater power, greater purpose. In every truth of this one could find her. The gods had blessed Siv Helsi, one might think. Her Kingdom had seen fit to give her power, another would read. She is wise, others whisper. For all of these things there was a twin, shadowed truth, and Siv held onto her secrets with sharp claws and sharper tongue.

Yet some truths are obvious to those who are liars. It was a sensation more than a scent, a sign, any sort of cue to suggest that one spoke to a creature of their own nature. Looking at Isabella made Siv’s lies feel closer to the surface. Isabella felt, from the way she spoke and carried herself, like velvet. Velvet wrapped around thorns, Siv reasoned, and thought this appropriate as she caught a whiff of some flowery perfume. The woman had talents, of this she was certain.

“I intend to acquire more, with Lord Sirius’ blessing, of course,” she said, smiling secretly. “But I’m certain it would be no trouble to find a male eager to serve for you solely. They’re made for such a thing.”

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#7
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Word Count :: 334I'm sorry I keep replying uber fast :C

Isabella gave a light laugh at the woman's words. "I'm sure our King will happily agree." He seemed to be the kind to give into the demands of the female kind, and she was sure he had noticed the lack of general slaves to perform various tasks for the community of liars and sneaks. It was a little lacking and he had to know that the slaves were in high demand. Well, problems would be solved if everyone was to get a slave of their own. Isabella had to wait for that day to come, so she had to used the general stock. "He has to understand that we need more of them." The slaves were useful, and more was always good.


Raising her brows, white blobs moving up with the motion and under her long hair. "A male slave.. now wouldn't that be something," she said gently, rubbing her hands over her arms. Though at the last bit of her words, Isabella gave the other woman a sidelong glance, a coy half smile cutting across her maw. "Oh?" she said coyly, rolling her shoulders in a shrug. "I certainly agree with that. Though I am surprised that you agree with that statement." Granted, she didn't know anyone else who agreed with her, but it was not something that commonly came up in conversation. "Now I am curious as to what you think, madam," she admitted, cocking her head to the woman, then glancing back to make sure the slave was still following the pair.


They arrived at outside of her home and she led them to the stump further past it. A shovel was propped against it as the gypsy gestured at it. "Get to. I need it moved to my walls." The bark rose up from the stump, charred and hollow from when it had split from the rest of it's trunk. It would do nicely. Isabella eyed the other woman, wondering what else lay hidden within.


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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#8
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There was never, and would never be, outspoken rebellion from the Helsi woman. She was too clever for such a thing, and instead slipped in her venom with subtle whispers. She had no intention of leading, though she thought herself capable, having watched countless leaders rise and fall and proclaim themselves righteous. Her place was in the shadows, by his side, watching and listening and whispering. Kings could fall—their Council would remain, until some new King thought himself so mighty as to not need allies. She had waited long enough; what was a few more months? A year? Eris would be gone by then and her place secured.

Purple eyes, the color of a fresh bruise or storm clouds, trailed back at the words of place. Certainly she was not alone in this thought, and so Siv smiled in a way that turned her pale eyes dark. As the slave went to work, she cocked her hip to adjust her weight and folded her arms under her breasts. Though tall and massive for a woman, Siv was willowy and thin of waist. Only powerful, thick thighs and legs suggested she carried the amount of weight she did. “Where I come from,” she said, her slight accent present. “Women have always had more power than men. It is our…grace, our patience, that allows them to lead. Men are strong, but not in all things.”

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#9
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Word Count :: 314I'm so sorry Mel D':

Isabella hummed a brief note, her amusement plain with her lighthearted attitude. Such a place sounded quite farfetched to her, living under the eye of a man almost her entire life. Granted. often these eyes were not of her fathers or her brothers, but of men who saw her as a pretty object glinting in their memory briefly enough to give her their attentions before passing on to the next pretty thing to wake by with a sway in her hips. For some, they would consider this world oppressive and difficult, where woman were clearly not valued, and the strongest women dominated over everyone but were killed the moment weakness was visible. No, the smartest played the background and wove across the tapestry of the world, plucking at threads and then fleeing. A woman that knew how to handle someone discretely, be it through backhanded means or persuasion was another true power to be reckoned with.


But where women truly ruled over men? Too good to be true. "That seems hard to believe, madam," she said truthfully, suddenly snapping her hands as the slave broke off a bit of bark that was protruding. Isabella barked at him to be more cautious and he grunted in reply as he began to roll the large stump toward her home. Isabella huffed at him, then turned back to Siv. "But there are plenty of things a woman can do, even if a man thinks he's the only one in charge. They may think they are the head but we are the neck that turns them, if we want to be, of course." Isabella bobbed her head almost modestly, but her smug grin ruined the effect entirely. "I wonder what your home would say to our Roi?" she asked the woman in all honesty. She herself was still unsure of what to make of their poisonous king.


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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#10
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It was not that men were entirely without use, and Siv had seen many that deserved the positions they had earned. The Hearg was not a place where praise was given easily, and indeed, some superstitious lot still thought that such open praise was bad luck and offended the gods. Her world had been much different than that of this long-haired woman, and had fashioned her into a creature that needed not only to rise above all others mentally, but physically as well.

“The world is very large,” she said gently. “One must do what it takes to live, and live well.” It would not be enough to scrape out living under a rock, or begging for scraps. Vines like themselves could weed up through the healthy plant though, and strangle it. At least, Siv could—she was above nothing and lived without compromise.

So when it came to talk of Sirius, she remained unmoved. “They would see him as all see him,” Siv breathed softly, her words carefully toned and chosen. “He is a man that commands power; he was blessed with a silver tongue and a steel heart.” She watched the other woman curiously, unsure of her relationship to the King. Perhaps it was more than Siv suspected. Perhaps less.

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#11
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Word Count :: 303-

Isabella looked wistfully at the woman, wondering if she knew the truth of Sirius' mind. She would never dare to think she understood the devilish man, but felt a kindred spirit of a sort within him, even if it was only partially, and a small part at that. "Do you think our King's heart beats more fiercely for himself?" she said softly, knowing her words were semi-treasonous, though an observation. He did seem to care for them on the outside, but all his tendencies pointed to the fact that he was a King first and foremost for himself, and for his ego. She had seen the way his eyes had glittered in victory when he took her, and she could see that his lust for her had always been about himself in the end. It was to pleasure him, to please him, so that he could benefit from the couplings. He paid willingly and well, but it was all the same in the end. A woman submitting to a man's lustful will and him gaining what he sought; release.


Their King was king in all aspects; he played the part well and the crown sat heavy on his head. It was hard to imagine him as purely noble, good, or even pure at all. A tainted King he was, and it suited the place he ruled. "Well, we cannot really complain if we are all doing well." She gave the other woman a withered look. It was directed at the pack itself, and though the woman did enjoy Salsola, she felt that things were too quiet. But that was stability. And if that was boring, so be it, right? "I wonder, the slaves. You procure them, don't you?" Isabella changed the subject, wary of the conversation around their King.


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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#12
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I suck. Could wrap this up soon? ;-;


There was between them a small thread of trust being sewn. Isabella proved this by her words, which might have been blasphemous was she any other. Siv merely smiled to show she knew it was the truth. There was much that could be said for the needs of men, and it most certainly was true of their King. The peacock that strutted about his home was proof enough of that. Vanity was not something above men and Siv often found that they preened and strutted about with more flair then some women.

So smoothly, the subject quieted. It remained like a cobweb, clinging to them, uniting them. Having another ally (and specifically, another woman) stirred some deep desire for what the Hearg had once represented. She was content to let other topics come into play, and nodded slightly at the mention of her job. “I have been given that task, yes. Our leaders have mentioned wanting to gain another…are you after one yourself?” She asked, inclining her head to look at the deep chestnut colored woman. Siv towered over nearly every soul within Salsola, and enjoyed such a thing—it helped further stroke her own massive ego.

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#13
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Word Count :: 285feel free to close this if you like.

The topic of the king fell off their lips, but it felt like it lingered in the air. But it would not be brought back up; they were in agreement and it satisfied the both of them, it seemed. Isabella, however, knew that the King was easily susceptible to the wiles of a woman, even if he thought himself in control. Silly men. They were so naive to the truth of the world. The gypsy woman let a slight snigger escape her but she looked apologetically to the other dark woman for her rather unattractive outburst.


A slave? "Oh, yes. I'm rather tired of having to go looking for our communal stock. While they're helpful and nice, but a personal slave would be best. I could keep him at my side for whenever I needed him." It was all about convenience. A slave would make her life a lot easier, and she would dirty her hands significantly less often. "Someone pretty, of course, and male. A woman in bondage seems a little.. much for my tastes and I'd much rather have a man at my beck and call; they do have their uses in strength." The slave finished rolling the log and them propped it up straight. He brushed away the dirt on the flat surface and then his hands.


Isabella moved in to examine the work, waving the slave aside. It looked good and the woman smiled. It would be fun to decorate this with trinkets and candles. "Yes, this is good." The woman turned to Siv, smiling at the dark woman. "If you can get me a slave, I think I'll be in your debt for a long while."


Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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