[P] [m] show you a world apart
a tear in the tapestry; camp in gaspesia/border of NC, frost reaches (For Delphine La Weir)

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: just in case - vague reference to sex, cursing, violence etc..

Tigraine slept twisted around Silivren, her fingers twitching against the unbound length of her pale hair. She was peaceful when she slept, her long face balanced against the crook of her arm. Silivren watched her for a long time, until the weight of her gaze roused her wife from sleep.

”Hmm?” she purled, one brown eye peeling open sleepily. ”Stop watching me sleep.”

Silivren growled softly, leaning in to run her tongue against her throat.

”I’ll do as I please.”

Tigraine rolled closer, tracing a finger over the markings which were splayed across the paler womans shoulder. Her eyes flickered darkly, a stirring in her belly forcing a deep rumble into the tent as she claimed a kiss that left them both spinning.

Later they emerged from the tent lighter than air, frost nipping at their long-clawed feet.

There were signs that some of the others had come through the camp earlier, and the extra bedroll still lay cushioned against the long dead coals.

”Start brewing the tea.” Silivren stretched her hands above her head and leaned, groaning as he body creaked back into place. ”I’m going to scout.”

She dressed quickly, pulling on a tunic that hid her tattoos and belting it around her waist.

She fastened the medallions and glanced back at Tigraine with a grin that showed all of her wolfish teeth.

”I’ll be back with someone.”

It took time to find the border, and she ignored the way the shadows changed around her. The morning had been wasted on other pursuits.

She set off towards the border on foot, slinking cat-like through the thickest foliage until she found a vantage point that would allow her to spy upon the border.

When she saw someone, she whistled sharply to catch their attention.

(///) | NPCs: Tigraine (cNPC)
Late afternoon - clear day, thick puffy clouds up there!
Delphine La Weir Dates at Camp: --
Delphine picked her way amongst the path, one of many that lined the Realm. Her eyes were bright as the sun crept its way higher in the air, a glassy sheen coming over them as she rounded the next corner. Well rounded clouds dotted the sky, puffy and serene in their fullness. Glancing at the ground, the jackal scanned the undergrowth for anything that piqued her interest. 

She knew what shape of leaf to look for but her pickings as the cold season trudged on had become rather scarce. Leaning over now, Delphine plucked a few scattered and greying stalks of Foxglove with a noise of satisfaction. Thick leather gloves protected her when handling such things, one could never be too prepared searching for poisons she had reasoned to herself. The petite female was not aware others lingered near the borders and jumped in surprise at the unexpected, sharp whistle. 

Turning in the direction of the whistle, Delphine clutched her basket full of crisp foxglove a little closer. A wild thrill spiked through her center at the strange intrusion and with a toothy grin she began her search for the owner of the whistle. " Hello? I venture you might wish to catch my attention, whoever you are?" The commoner asked, adjusting the bone mask so that it slid down her face and sat comfortably.

The darkness in a woman is such that, stripped of our sight, we must feel our way through it.
 We crawl, we enter her circles of Hell until we sympathize with her sorrow, until we learn from her rage.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the little jackal with the bone mask was a surprise. Silivren couldn’t help the wide-toothed smile that crept to her features, the swagger of charm sparkling brightly in her eyes. The girl had eyes the color of clear skies, her length of hair partially hidden beneath the shadow of her mask.

It was feral and dark. Silivren felt her interest peak with a hitched breath.

They were getting better at this.

”You would be correct!” Silivren bowed her head, twisting the pale braid around her hand before throwing it over her shoulder. ”We’ve been wandering a long time, I didn't want to miss asking someone for directions.” She blinked slowly, flaring her nostrils as if to assure that they were entirely alone. She bunched up her sleeves as if to show that she hid nothing in the way of weapons, the loose-fitting tunic tucked neatly into her trousers.

”What’s in your basket?” Silivren slid closer, peering curiously between the vessel and the womans thick leather gloves. "Do you collect plants? My wife has quite the collection back at our camp." The mercenary pointed with her long nose and then offered another winsome smile.

(///) | NPCs: Tigraine (cNPC)
Wc – 271

The woman wasted no time in showing herself, white in coloration with crimson eyes that were a stark contrast to the washed out hues of her environment. Delphine was still new to these lands and didn’t feel any attachment to them just yet. She was grateful of course of the haven she’d been admitted to – but no red flag or warning came with the arrival of this friendly loner as it should. Instead, a pale grin matched the strangers and she nodded in understanding.

The woman drew closer and asked after the contents of her basket. “ Where might you need directions too? I’m a recent arrival myself so my travels have been limited. “ Delphine asked hastily, not wanting this lady to think her rude for nearly ignoring the first question. Eagerly her eyes dropped to the dead wildflowers and the jackal hesitated for a second. Poisons weren’t for everybody, but the temptation of learning more herbology was too great. Perhaps if she displayed some of her own knowledge, this woman would share what she knew.

“ It’s Foxglove. “ Delphine said in a hushed tone, raising her gaze slowly until it was fixed on the crimson pools of the stranger. “ Better in the summer when it’s fresh, but the entire plant is toxic – so dead will do just as well. “ Licking her lips, the jackals overly long tail flicked behind her in trepidation. “ I do collect plants, I’m always looking to learn more. “ Glancing over one shoulder, Delphine loosened her grip on the wicker basket and took a step forward. “ What’s your name? “


The darkness in a woman is such that, stripped of our sight, we must feel our way through it.
 We crawl, we enter her circles of Hell until we sympathize with her sorrow, until we learn from her rage.
Silivren settled into the conversation easily, mimicking the facial expressions of the young girl as she proudly showed her what she had collected in her basket.

”We’re trying to head West, then towards Portland.” Silivren plucked a thread from her tunic and sprinkled it into the grass, ”You know, before the weather takes a turn for the worse.” It was her favorite season. There was something about the crisp chill in the air that made her feel alive. She pointed with the long slant of her nose, "What's back that way?"

She knew. The other child had given her a basic frame work of what made New Caledonia. The others would prove useful in their own way - this young girl showed that they had someone who worked with plants... a healer, a gardner... based off what she worked with she could also be a poisoner. Silivren mulled this over as she flicked her ruby eyes back to the jackal.

”Foxglove?” Silivren gave a nod, ”My Wife might know more about it –“ She offered another wide grin, ”Come, come – we can offer you food and a safe place to hear a story or two. Perhaps we can trade, hm?”

”Silivren. She said, What’s yours?”

With a friendly gesture she turned towards camp, ”It’s this way. Just watch for Tigraine.”

(///) | NPCs: Tigraine (cNPC)
Wc – 233
hell yeah hell yeah give me DRUUUUGZ

Delphine observed the woman and couldn’t find a red flag, anything subtle would have been lost on her. “ Well, that’s my home. New Caledonia. A pack, of course. Couldn’t you smell the border markings? “ Perhaps the red hue of her eyes was indicative of poor breeding and the woman not only was blind, but had no sense of smell. Contemplating this privately, the jackal nodded along absently and trailed behind Silivren.

“ My name is Delphine La Weir. I’m from Virginia, originally. I passed through Portland. How fortunate. “ If she didn’t notice the border, maybe they really did need directions. Perking up at the thought of free dinner, Delphine quickened her pace to match that of the hybrid, soon arriving at a camp that smelled and looked inviting. Something bubbled in a pot and the former priestess sniffed at the air, trying to place the herbs that hung cloyingly in the air.

“ Tigraine is your wife? What do I smell – it’s lovely? “ Delphine said through a smile, long tail swaying gently. It would be rude to keep wearing her mask, after being invited to this hearth and with pale hands the female reached up and undid the morbid decoration – carefully placing it within the safety of her woven basket. " What stories do you have? " She asked plainly, eager to talk to someone new to this area. 


The darkness in a woman is such that, stripped of our sight, we must feel our way through it.
 We crawl, we enter her circles of Hell until we sympathize with her sorrow, until we learn from her rage.

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