you told your daughter she was ordinary

Wisteria!

POSTED: Sun Jun 02, 2019 6:18 am

Word Count → ??? :: made some assumptions, let me know if any of them need changing!

The air was heavy with the smell of rain.

It hadn't arrived yet, but there were deep bruised clouds growing on the other side of the grey loch. A coy wind ran like children, wild through the many little paths of the Ruins proper. It hassled the people as they went about their daily chores, tossing clean clothing into the dirt, ruffling neat hair into disarray. It was an ill wind, mischievous.

The queen drew a strange sigil in the air as it brushed by her: A warding. She smiled, but it was a cold sort of smile, the kind that pressed her black lips tightly together and made her face less lovely.

Then she continued on down the path.

The hedgerow was growing in thick and green. Already it teemed with life, eager for the summer that would supposedly find them in the not too distant future. In the early morning, the air was still cold enough to numb the tips of her fingers. But the warm buttery sunlight did not care for it, and Salsola was well adapted to the fickleness of its weather.

She saw the young woman by a makeshift archery stand, shooting at a straw dummy that someone had tied dangling from a tree. Syringa's daughter had hair the color of reaped wheat, so bright a gold that the sunlight made a halo of it around her pale face. Curious, Elphaba deviated from her intended path - the one that curved north through Tantramar and headed straight for the dark woods - and instead went to watch.

When Wisteria noticed her arrival, she held her hand palm-up in greeting. "Don't stop on my behalf," her eyes, cochineal and terrible, drew over the woman with covetous interest.


we need a forest fire
Salsola
The Boss
User avatar
Alaine
Luperci Witch she hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit the queen is dead, long live the queen
hierophant
burn the witch
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POSTED: Mon Jun 10, 2019 3:10 pm

()

No matter how hard she tried, each arrow, each release of the bowstring could not drown out the turmoil of a mind, a consciousness that did not feel entirely her own. She strung the words through her thoughts over and over again, and still could not make sense of them. The only real link between the broken sentences she’d uttered in the cold watch of night was the raven Whisper. She could scarcely forget the day they visited her cousin when the bird had spoken in a haunting mimicry of a voice she’d never heard before. The bird, Mort— renamed Whisper— was often in her company these days. She couldn’t recall the moment her regard for the creature had warmed; when she went from loathing his presence to accepting it— even welcoming it. It was very much the same with the flaxen mare, whose naming had been sudden, unplanned.

The percussive thud of each arrow was to some satisfaction. Each landed on the dummy for one. Her upper arms had gained a good deal of muscle as the months wore on, though it wasn’t enough to compromise the lean, sloping build her blood had gifted her...If only she knew how to use it.

Wisteria had neither the feral bent of her cousin Symre, nor the refinement of her friend Clementine. She was somewhere in between. Her height was imposing, while her build was distinctively feminine, her pelt and features near-white and the soft gold of wheat. Her hair was long and lustrous, however she often wore it up. It was so now, twisted up into a lax bun with wisps of hair framing her wolfish face and drawing attention to her striking fire-bright eyes.

She was about to loose another arrow. It’s dark feathers caressed the hair’s-breadth of space between her fingers when she heard the footsteps and saw the gleam of a golden crown. She lowered the bow and let the string go slack, released the breath that inflated her chest. Her ears fell and her head followed.

She observed the grass and weeds before her sovereign’s feet as she searched her reasons for being here. And yet the ruby-eyed witch-queen made no demands beyond the acknowledgement of her presence and urged her to continue. Wisteria had neither the social grace of her mother nor the bright, playful charm of her father. She made no quips and offered no empty pleasantries, but she was not without their wits. She lifted her bow. “Yes, ma Riene.”

Her lungs inflated as she breathed deep into her diaphragm, nocked her arrow, and drew it back until she was perpendicular with her target. She loosed, feeling the soft feathers brush her fingers as they fled. And landed solidly in the straw. She blinked, disbelieving to see that the arrow had not only pierced the dummy- she’d struck the heart, or where the heart might be were it a living thing and not a hay-choked sack.

Wisteria Valentine
Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Stormie
Luperci In memoriam

POSTED: Wed Jun 12, 2019 2:10 am

Word Count → ??? :: oops Elphie is being a perv

She had more of the looks of her mother, Elphaba thought as she watched the young woman at her sport - it was the build, feminine but strong, taller than the queen by a wolfish amount. Weaver had been a handsome man too, for what she recalled of his grinning face; But there was little of the joviality of him in the huntress. Wisteria had a seriousness to her, quiet and composed. It made her... Interesting.

Leaning against the stone wall, she watched the blonde woman notch an arrow. Even though the Pentiti had been an infamously skilled archer, Elphaba herself displayed little interest in the bow - perhaps the affiliation brought her no joy, or perhaps she simply enjoyed the closer contact her staff-fighting allowed.

Nevertheless, when Wisteria's arrow shot true, the queen's countenance changed.

THUNK! It hit the straw dummy right where its heart would beat, if it were a foe of flesh and blood. A killing blow. A perfect shot.

Elphaba's fingers tightened against the stone. She ran her tongue over her lips to wet them, a quick unconscious motion. Her pupils were wide, circles of tar surrounded by a ring of brightest ruby.

She straightened after a moment, and clapped her palms together, slowly at first but with growing enthusiasm. "Molto bene! Very impressive!" Her gaze roved Wisteria again, more slowly this time, as though she were looking for something. "I did not know you were so skilled, Tradesman Valentine. Have you been hiding this talent away from me?"


we need a forest fire
Salsola
The Boss
User avatar
Alaine
Luperci Witch she hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit the queen is dead, long live the queen
hierophant
burn the witch
↟ ↟ ↟

POSTED: Tue Jun 25, 2019 2:41 pm

(242)

She stared at the point where the arrow pierced the straw, the faint trace of disbelief fading to a subdued and silent admiration for what had been a well-placed shot. Her body was warm from the use of her muscles, the flesh taut beneath her plush pelt. She lowered the bow and chanced a look at her ruby-eyed queen, her eyes downcast in deference and acceptance of the woman’s power. Her heart fluttered beneath her pale breast, her breathing soft but audible as she tried to smooth the subtle hitch in it’s tempo. Not fear, but anticipation.

It was quiet at first, the sound of the queen’s palms joining together, but then it picked up and up, hastening and jubilant. She praised the shot, her skill, her words becoming covetous with mild accusation. Wisteria could feel the hairs prickle along her spine, electric, and not at all unpleasant as the queen’s gaze sharpened on her form. The words came unbidden. “Only until I was certain I would not miss,” She said with wit and cleverness that often went unnoticed owing to the cool crisp countenance she maintained. After a beat, “ma Reine.” She stooped again slightly, her eyes peering up from under her lashes.

She ignored the slight tremble in her fingers, wondering instead if she should return the bow to her back. The feathers beside her ear fluttered lightly in the breeze, but remained affixed in the clasp that held them.

Wisteria Valentine
Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Stormie
Luperci In memoriam

POSTED: Sun Jun 30, 2019 1:24 am

Word Count → ??? :: ---

"And are you?" She liked the color of the young woman's eyes - Orange like a sunset, like a coal about to burst into flame. "Certain, that is."

There was a hunger to Elphaba that seemed indescribable. A hunger not only for life or power, but for the people therein that took her interest; A possessiveness, zealous and volatile, reaching out to pluck each beautiful gem from among the rolling hills of the Ruins, there to be better placed in her crown. She was watching Weaver's daughter in this way now - Like a hawk who had spotted the fattest rabbit down in the field, or a merchant who has just seen the exact item he is willing to spend big on.

Graceful, she swung first one leg and then the other over the crumbling stone wall, and closed the distance between them.

With more wolf in her blood, Wisteria was the taller of the pair. This did not seem to perturb Elphaba all that much; Hers was an authority that superseded height. She lifted up slightly on her toes to brush cheeks with the golden woman.

After settling back, the queen said: "How about a friendly wager?"


we need a forest fire
Salsola
The Boss
User avatar
Alaine
Luperci Witch she hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit the queen is dead, long live the queen
hierophant
burn the witch
↟ ↟ ↟

POSTED: Thu Jul 18, 2019 10:05 pm

(204)

Wisteria assessed the target once more and when he queen questioned her, she didn’t hesitate. “With this?” Her eyes remained on the dummy. “Yes.” It was the living, moving targets that gave her pause. She was still young, still learning. But she practiced here often. She’d practiced and practiced until her arms were sore and heavy, her back rigid and aching. “Not as much with moving targets. Yet.” The yearling spoke matter-of-factly her voice lacking the good humor the many would have striven for. Honest, open. She had no secrets to hide from her queen, no need to cower beneath her majesty.

She had her queen’s attention, but didn’t crumble beneath it, didn’t balk. She was still as a glacier, head turning to watch as Elphaba climbed the wall that rose between them. Her eyes were sharper than any Wisteria had seen, a vivid red like the cardinal birds that often nested within the sprawling pine forests of their home...and they were fixed on her, rapt and hungry.

She stilled the errant beat in her breast. And lowered her head just slightly without bending to reciprocate her queen’s touches, warming to the soft breath against her cheeks. “Anything.” She said. And meant it.

Wisteria Valentine
Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Stormie
Luperci In memoriam

POSTED: Sat Aug 17, 2019 1:51 am

Word Count → ??? :: ---

It was not hubris that decorated Weaver's daughter - she had a serious face, measuring and calculated, and considered each question carefully before giving an answer. Elphaba liked to watch her face move as she spoke. Her people were curious things - each driven like little mechanical beasts by the cogs of their own desires. Even the staunch and the stoic had them somewhere, buried deep within; Little carnal dreams, longings, lusts.

She wanted to know them all, each and every one. They were beautiful. They were terrible.

Most importantly, they were hers.

'Anything,' The young woman answered, and Elphaba's sigh was a sound of pure delight.

"Archers have the hardest path among all weapon wielders, I believe," She sounded conversational, convivial, as though speaking with a close friend. "You have chosen a weapon that requires great skill, great precision; But also great conviction. You must be certain of your mark before you release an arrow, no? That certainty is an admirable thing."

As she spoke Elphaba reached into the folds of her green traveler's cloak. When her hands reemerged they were holding a bright red apple, one of the best of the orchard harvest. It was a large fruit and vividly pigmented; She rolled it between her palms and polished it absently on her hem.

"In battle, if you hit your mark, you are almost instantly victorious. A whole fight averted with a single shot! What an incredible power." She threw the apple up in the air and caught it, almost lazily. "But if you miss? Well... There are consequences."

Wisteria was a clever young woman. As she began to figure it out, Elphaba smiled, and her hands stilled.

"So here is the wager," She said, and went to stand with her back against the tree that held up the woman's target. Carefully, she rested the apple on the top of her head, between her two ears.

"Shoot the apple," A simple instruction. The queen ran her tongue over her lips. "You hit it, and victory! I will give you a great reward. You miss?" This time she laughed, and it was a lovely sound, musical, "It is as I said. Consequences!" There was no fear in her, but an almost manic kind of calm, as though her will alone could ensure the young archer would shoot true.


we need a forest fire
Salsola
The Boss
User avatar
Alaine
Luperci Witch she hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit the queen is dead, long live the queen
hierophant
burn the witch
↟ ↟ ↟

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