black mambo

POSTED: Sat Oct 17, 2015 4:16 am

Great white nortH

It still kind of amazed Urho that he had been speaking to the leader without being told who she was as she approached. It made sense why from a neutral perspective, but he was always the polite sort, wanting to speak to others the way he was supposed to, whether it was just a loner or the leader of a group. Maybe that was just the civilized part of him, despite being born very far from civilization. Spending as much time as he did in Stockholm did refine those parts of him; the part of him eager to please and the part who liked to treat others respectfully were likely the thing that bolstered his merchant-like personality.

Ondine had led him into the village as Salvia had instructed, telling him where he could put his things and leaving him temporarily tend to other duties. There wasn't much he could really do at this point, being in the tentative trial process, not quite a member, but not quite someone considered an outsider. Urho never had been part of a group at all, let alone a group such as this one. The Family... it was something that he hardly believed was becoming real. Real for him of all people, to have a family worth talking about, instead of a lonely single mother and a ghost.

Carrying the heavy rucksack in a single hand and the buck on his back, Urho trudged through the village, looking for a place he could butcher the deer without making too much of a mess where someone might not want it. Hopefully enough, someone would notice the large mass consisting of the Finn and the things he'd brought within Salsola, both as gifts and as his own possessions. It wasn't as if Urho was hard to notice either — there were not many who had the same girth as him, one like a solid block of stone.

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POSTED: Sun Oct 18, 2015 11:13 pm

oh hey der


Adelia lay sprawled inelegantly across Hyacinths lap while she leafed through a leather-bound book, her head propped regally across the crook of the woman’s knee. The smoke-spun Associate ran her delicate fingers over the slope of the cats forehead, gently kneading the swatch of fur that grew thicker along her throat. The book was written in tiny script and in some places she found it was difficult to interpret. Her brows furrowed as her gaze flowed over a particularly long word, and with a soft sound she glanced towards Adelia, ”You were right,” The cat allowed one chartreuse eye to peel open at the voice, ”This histoire is not as good as ones you tell.”

The cat chuckled, stretching as a warm sound that rumbled loudly from such a small body. "Je sais," She leapt nimbly from Hyacinths lap, stretching each of her legs separately as she stood in the small dugout before their home. She flicked her tail and disappeared up the stairs – pausing for a moment to inspect the hulking form that slowly made its way through the Associates homes. The cat stared unblinking, and as he passed her she sprang off into the comfort of shadow; something of which Salsola was in no short supply of.

The Silvue woman stiffened at the scent of blood and offered a short chuff as she rose to her feet, quickly taking the steps to peer out into the dusky road. The heavy-set man walked slowly, the deer thrown over his shoulder causing each of his steps to be heavier then the rest. Hyacinth flicked her ears at him curiously and called out to him, ”You,” She blinked her fiery eyes at him, ”You I have not seen before.” She lifted her creamy muzzle to gesture at his bag, ”Do you ah-“ She paused as she sought the expression, ”Need a hand?”

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POSTED: Sun Oct 18, 2015 11:52 pm

Great white nortH

The village had seemed like a ghost town as he arrived, left alone to listen to the birds and insects chittering to fill the air, but as soon as he started to move around, things started to stir and come to life. Someone had come out to greet him, tossing a nose at him and asking if he wanted help. Well that was fast, he thought to himself, giving the woman a bright, friendly smile. "You have not," he laughed in reply. "I was just accepted earlier today. My sponsor led me here and told me to wait for her to come back."

Looking to the bag in his hand, without feeling much of the weight of the deer, Urho shrugged with a chuckle. "To be honest, not really — but if you really want to help you can." He dropped the bag with a heavy thud by her feet. "If you can lift the bag, by all means, but if it's too much for you I can carry it on my own. I'm not offended by not getting help." The bag itself weighed much less than the deer on his back, but he couldn't assume the woman could carry it on her own and then leave her behind to try to drag it.

"What I really need help with, though, is where to hang this deer so I can harvest it. Need to make sure I keep everything fresh and get it butchered before anything goes bad." He bucked the carcass on his back so it settled better on his shoulders, letting himself stand up straighter. "I wouldn't want to make a huge mess on my first day," he guffawed with a hefty breath, patting his stomach with a heavy hand. Besides, all that work would probably just make him even hungrier than he currently was.

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POSTED: Mon Oct 19, 2015 12:18 am

:D :D :D


The dark man was instantly friendly, and somehow his demeanour reminded her of Weaver -- the easy smile, the laughter that bit at the air so soon after speaking. Her ears flicked back, the gold in them shining as she stooped to pick up his dropped bag. It was heavier then she had anticipated, though she adjusted her grip and slung it with a soft huff over her shoulder. The muscles in her arms flexed, though with a forced smile she fell into step beside him. She wondered at who his sponsor was, and inhaled at the air sharply, her gaze curious.

"Mm, I too am new." She ran her tongue over her dark lips as they rounded a corner, "There are some trees along the edge of la campe." She shrugged, "One will be strong enough to carry your stag and it will be far enough away that you will not disturb the other Associates."

Hyacinth had wandered Millstone Village almost everyday since arriving -- making the trip between her shared cabin and the ruins often to visit her sponsor. There was still much to learn, but thankfully she was able to navigate with a confident set of her feet. Adelia had gathered what little she had been able --simple things like where each of the Associates lived, and sometimes whether or not they had been visited by higher ranked delegates of the Thistle Kingdom.

Millstone Village was mostly silent -- and so it was when a new member joined that Hyacinth was eager to learn what she could even if it meant carrying his heavy bag.

She lead the burly Finn through a small copse of trees and brush, a dilapidated cabin nestled amongst the trees spewing smoke as someone began their meal preparation. Her nostrils flared hungrily, though she slid her gaze back to the man who padded along at her side. "I do believe there are worse things to be done on someones first day." She adjusted the bag against her shoulders, her smile suddenly wry, "Imagine if you had arrived with nothing at all." Salsola took pride in its trade and the usefulness of its members -- based on the wares that the man had upon his day of initiation he had proven useful on first sight.

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POSTED: Mon Oct 19, 2015 1:04 am

Great white nortH

It was nice to know that the woman was also new, finding an immediate kinship with her as she continued. Urho nodded, noting that her voice had tinges of an accent — one that was not from here, he noticed. "Excellent," he grinned excitedly. "Let's get to it."

"I do believe there are worse things to be done on someones first day. Imagine if you had arrived with nothing at all."

Urho snorted a loud laugh, nearly dropping the deer off his shoulders. "How true," he replied as they arrived in a copse. "But I'm afraid I had the opposite problem; I arrived with so many things to carry!" It wasn't as if it was difficult for him, but not having anyone else to help him along the way did make things just a little bit harder. "I had to bring everything myself. Unfortunately, horses do not take well to me — plus I would crush the backs of many!" Tossing the deer onto the ground, he motioned for the woman to toss him the bag so he could grab some rope. "And I do not wish this on any horse, I find them too good for that kind of fate."

It didn't take much effort for him to tie the back legs of the deer together, tossing the other end of the rope over a branch of the strongest tree and pulling with a heave, lifting the carcass up carefully a foot or two above the ground and tying the rest of the rope around another tree.

"That should hold for now," he nodded, turning back to the woman. "By the way, I am Urho Rask." He offered his customary bow, fist on his chest, before grabbing his khukuri out of the sheath on his back and beginning to cut into the deer. "I hope you don't mind if I work and talk at the same time," he added with a chuckle. "I am used to multitasking."

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POSTED: Mon Oct 19, 2015 1:47 am

pretty sure I am obsessed with Urho.


Hyacinth handed him the bag when prompted, flexing her hands as she listened to him speak. The man had a rhythmic timbre, and she found that she enjoyed listening to him speak. "I understand." Her family had been able to cover vast distances with the help of their horses and the caravans that they pulled.

She gave him a wry look, leaning against a nearby sapling as the man began to truss his kill. "You mean to say that you came with more than this?" The french woman couldn't help the short chuckle that rumbled from her chest.

"It seems you have just not found a large enough horse," She scratched at her dark shoulder absently as the stag was raised to hang swinging between them. She placed one hand against the smooth hide, steadying it with a gentle push. His bow caught her off guard, though she returned the gesture with a curtsy, Je suis Hyacinth Silevue." Her eyes glittered, "Newly christened Associate, though not so new as you."

She did not reveal her familial connection to the packs Ambassador, nor her cousins -- and instead flicked her tail idly side to side.

"Please, continue. I do not mind." The fire-eyed woman watched him as he prepped his work station, and twirled a piece of raven hair between her fingers as he set into the deer. "So Monsiour Rask, where is it that you come from?" She paused, "There is somet'ing about you that seems... foreign." She smiled from her reclined position, and allowed herself a moment to observe the burly man.

The dark set of his eyes was concentrated on his task, and it was obvious by the size and strength of his hands that he was used to manual labor. She wondered at this but kept silent, toying with the golden earring in one of her ears.

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POSTED: Mon Oct 19, 2015 2:58 am

Great white nortH

It was true, horses large enough to carry a hefty man like Urho were hard to come by — and trained ones every harder. Someday, he hoped, he could find his horsemanship skills bolstered enough to obtain one of his own, a horse he didn't find flattened into an unfortunate pancake under his sheer weight. "You're right, I haven't," he replied with a cheeky grin. "Should you find one, I would like to be the first to know."

A loud, deep cackle rang out from his throat. "You don't think a man able to carry a hundred pound stag and an eighty pound bag on his back alone wouldn't have a few extra pounds? Besides — I already ate the few extra pounds I came with." He slapped his gut loudly with a guffaw, feeling the meat tremble in his stomach.

Her introduction gave away her heritage, it seemed, in combination with her accent. "A pleasure," he regarded with a deep rumble in his throat as he expertly handled the knife, skinning the deer with ease. "I come from Finland. Across the sea in the Great White North." Not many knew it by that name, but that is what Urho had called it — like an arctic desert, in a sense. Tundra had been the proper word for it, but Urho never found this word until later in his life. "I spent some time in Stockholm, though, before traveling to take a ship to the Far West."

"There's something foreign in you as well — French, if I'm not mistaken." His burly hands grabbed onto the loosened skin, pulling roughly until the pelt peeled off almost entirely. "I passed through there on my way to Lisbon. A strange language, indeed." The pelt was cut away and tossed towards his bag, his knife now digging into the gut of the animal and his hands reaching inside to pull all of the offal out of the carcass to dump it on the ground. "It's very, umm... in the nose," he described with a scoff, making a motion in front of his own nose with a bloody hand. "Everyone sounds like they're sick with allergies."

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POSTED: Mon Oct 19, 2015 11:23 pm

i smell frendship!


Hyacinth watched with rapt attention as the Finn split the carcass open, his arms turning slick beneath entrails and blood. The woman did not shy away from the display, and instead found herself inhaling the thick scent hungrily. He worked quickly, and as he worked the skin away from muscle and bone she clicked her teeth. ”Finland,” She repeated the word softly, burrowing her nose into the crook of her elbow to shield it from a cool breeze. ”Where is that?” Despite the nature of her upbringing, the gypsy knew little of the world beyond her tiny caravan.

Weaver lived up to his name in this regard, and constantly wove stories with his silver tongue. It was one of the only things that he and Adelia had in common – and together they would stay up long into the night trading stories to one another while Hyacinth listened silently near by. ”My accent sounds like allergies?” She said it with a shrug of her shoulders and couldn’t help the chuckle that built in her throat, ”I’ve never heard someone refer to it like that.” She listened to the rhythmic timbre of her voice, the heavy consonants and soft vowels.

”I do not find the language strange. Perhaps on your heavy tongue, Monsior – but I find it quite delicate.” She grinned, pushing herself to a stand so that she could help him steady the swaying carcass, ”There are many English words that seem sharp in comparison.” Her gaze landed on his short muzzle, the rich mahogany fur that gathered at his throat. His eyes were bright despite the morbidity of their task, and Hyacinth licked blood from her finger with a cant of her head.

”Teach me to say something in your language.” She clicked her teeth and scrunched her nose, her lips grinning fiercely. ”Like that you stink.”

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POSTED: Tue Oct 20, 2015 1:09 am

Great white nortH

It was sometimes hard to describe his homeland to others, especially if they didn't have a good idea of how Europe was laid out. "Hmm," he hummed, thinking about how to explain the location without access to any kind of map. "It is in the far north. Right next to Russia with the sea on the left side." That was probably the best he could do on such short notice, perhaps. "You should remind me to draw you a map sometime," he laughed. "It would probably make a lot more sense than me trying to explain it to someone who's never been there."

He snorted a laugh through his nose, tossing a joking look over to her. "Well of course it doesn't! When you grow up with something, it's always normal to you." That had always been true in his opinion. Even the English language sounded very similar, with a lot of nasally sounds present in many words.

His language was a vague term however, considering that he didn't consider a single one as his own in particular. "I do not have one language, per se," he began with a loud snorted chuckle, hacking off the legs from the deer and separating the sections of cuts from the meat. "I can speak Finnish, to which you would say someone smells like hevonpaska." The idea of teaching someone how to swear in a different language was a funny one, but Urho never found swearing to be offensive, it was just a part of every day life. This felt more like a sharing of cultures than anything else.

"But I also speak Danish, where you can call someone svin or røvhul, which both smell the same, I imagine." The deer was about as harvested as one could get it, with Urho chopping off the head and snapping the antlers off as a final touch. Each cut was organized into piles on a small square of cloth before he pulled out a large container of salt, starting to pour and rub it into the meat.

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POSTED: Sun Nov 01, 2015 12:49 am

Sorry for the wait t!!!!


Hyacinth had learned from an early age that home was where your family was. They had not had a territory to call their own and had constantly been forced to be on the road – dodging mercenaries and looters with well-practiced ease. Father had always believed that it was a noble thing, to be able to pack everything into a caravan on such short notice and take off into the unknown – he had always been prepared for adventure, and in some ways this had passed down to his children. He had preened them, taught them what he knew of music. Weaver played his lute as well as he did because of the time their father had spent with them, and Hyacinth had been eager to learn what she could until she understood the true reason for her lessons.

Her eyes darkened, though she was brought back by the Finns words – the amused expression that had settled about his heavy lips giving her pause before she responded to him. ”I would like that.” She twirled a piece of raven fur between her fingers and glanced at the man as he began to section his kill, ”I have never been very good at drawing.” She shrugged her shoulders, and for a moment there was mirth at the edge of her mouth – bountiful and open as the sea. ”I am good at other things.” She blinked at him, and just as quickly as the smile appeared, it was gone into the smoke spun gleam of her pelt.

"Hevonpaska," She repeated, the word sounding strange against her tongue, "It sounds pretty if you do not know what it means." She steadied one of the hacked off limbs with her foot, "In french you would say--" She flipped her head, thoughtful, "Quelque chose comme ca," She searched for the words, and when she finally said them, laughter bubbled warmly in her throat. "Vous sentez comme le boeuf et le fromage." She clamped a hand firmly over her muzzle as she chuckled, "My brother enjoyed saying such things when we were cubs."

Her ears pricked at him, "You speak other language too?" She stepped closer, careful to avoid the mighty swing of his knife-hand, "I speak spanish aussi -- though french is my mother tongue."

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