you play a game of pressure

POSTED: Wed Mar 30, 2016 10:36 pm

the dawn will break before you

She thought she had forgotten how to ride, but she hadn't.

Lyris was not an abandoner. She had always been the abandoned, and so swore never to switch sides. This was not an abandonment- it was a reprieve. Just four days, she said. She would return in four, but today was the second, and so she had time still. And so the Knight rode; on, and on, and on she rode. For months she had not urged her steed to move so quickly for so long, and they were both thrilled at the glory of it. The windburns she could feel arising on her scarred cheek, the blown mess she could feel as her hair, and even the aches she discovered in her thighs and arms were all far from the hindrance they should have been. Being a mother was exhausting, and though she loved it, it was a sacrifice. Lyris was quite simply not cut out for nonstop motherhood, so she raised her daughters quick and well so that they could fend without her at the first moment feasible. Finally, Luca had given her the break she had begged for several days, agreeing to take on the girls and put his Lune duties on hold. She would have to give him something good in thank-you when she returned, but that would be thought of later. For now, there was traveling to be done.

Inferni's land was a pain in her neck. The coyotes just had to balloon out to block out every path for easy passage, and so she was forced into the foothills of the mountains. That alone took a full day, as Halcyon was not forgiving. But horse and woman made it through without injury or unsurmountable obstacle just as the sun was beginning its descent. Admittedly, Lyris had not a specific a location in mind when she began her little excursion; it was only to get away. So she decided this was good enough. Too exhausted from hours of navigating through the mountain on horseback, Lyris set traps instead of hunting. They would camp here for the rest of the day and overnight.

The Cavallo sent Kenyon to graze on his own, hoping that he could punch through the frost to find something still alive. The horse was then sent off, but he stayed always within her sight, as was their silent pact. Reverently, then, Lyris scoped out the shelter of a grandfather tree to build and light a fire beneath, sighing with relief as the flames licked life back into her stiff fingers. Kenyon quickly abandoned his post to seek the warmth she had kindled, and with a roll of her eyes, Lyris butted up against the stallion, leaning back into his painted side and snatching the bow from where it was hung on his saddle. It was completed in every way; the dark oak had been sealed, tested, and fitted with a leather grip, but Lyris had yet to leave her mark. Lifting her dagger from where it was stashed against her fur and the leather of her arm band, the Stryder began to carve, humming a very quiet, sublime tune. The stallion dozed off at some point, and the sun continued to sink, and Lyris had a fragile, complete peace that she had not felt for months upon months.

((500+)) Near the edge of Halcyon Mountain, dusk.

Last edited by Lyris Stryder on Thu Mar 31, 2016 12:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
User avatar
Ann
Luperci Mate to Luca Stable Master The Brotherhood: Master of Tooth and Claw 2013, 2015 SoSuWriMo Champ! Stryder
princess cut from marble
smoother than a storm
these scars that mark my body?
SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Wed Mar 30, 2016 11:45 pm


thank you for starting!

The red star that lingered in the sky seemed brighter today - Bright enough to be seen even before the deep bruise of dusk stole up from the horizon.

Lokr cast it one last baleful glance before turning his eyes to the path ahead. He and Borya knew this track very well - even though it was overgrown and sometimes difficult for the large Siberian reindeer to traverse, it wound through a second of the footfalls of Halcyon that were particularly bountiful. Prey thrived here, beyond the reach of any nearby pack - And the mountain was largely quiet, perhaps awoken only by the occasional traveler or merchant skirting Inferni to head north, or south.

As such, it was a relatively peaceful trip. The Lord Commander had already caught two hares - Both had been a surprisingly easy hunt, so much so that the latter one Lokr had been able to shoot from Borya's back with hardly any effort at all. If he thought on it overmuch, it seemed that the small animals were as much transfixed by the strange red star as he was.

The two hares were slung across Borya's shaggy withers ahead of Lokr, who sat tall in the strange leather half-saddle that had been crafted specifically for his unusual steed. Large leather saddlebags made muffled creaks as the giant stag loped easily onward, tossing his large antlered head. The dark Revlis man wore his simple high-collar leather hunting vest, a soft tanned doehide quiver bristling with black-feathered arrows, the occasional obvious (and perhaps additional hidden) hunting daggers, and his own confidence that fit him like a glove. He held the dragon-carved bow loosely, but with such skill that in a twirl of fingers it could be brought to the ready.

It was the flickering of the hearthlight that caught his attentions; It shone like a small beacon from between the clusters of great old pines, and drew the gaze like a moth to flame. Instantly, Lokr's calm demeanor hardened into something dangerous - Salsola had wearied immensely of Outsiders, particularly seeing as a dangerous group was currently haranguing their borders, leaving dead women in their path. As he rode closer, he drew an arrow to the bow; Steering Borya with his knees, they came slowly upon the small campsite.

When he was near enough, but still at a distance to hopefully evade detection, Lokr dismounted. He crept closer, bright green eyes flickering back the reflection of the fire that the white-furred woman had skillfully made. Though it was hard to peer clearly through the thick pine-trunks and undergrowth, he could see a single lady resting by the hearth, with her back leaning casually against a large brown-splashed stallion. When he was near enough to the edge of warmth and light that the flames cast, the hunter spoke - His voice curled in the crisp air, cool as the breeze that came down from the mountain peaks. "Who builds this camp near the foot of the mountain? Are you a traveler - a trader? Or perhaps something more nefarious..." As he spoke, his dark-clawed fingers lightly caressed the feathers of one arrow in anticipation.



slithered here from Eden

User avatar
Alaine
Luperci /
wrath of the north
a voice in the deep

POSTED: Thu Mar 31, 2016 12:18 am

the dawn will break before you

The symbol that she crafted was the same one carved by dark ink into the thick of her thigh, and she needn't even look at the tattoo to remind herself of the self-imposed crest. The design came naturally, now; from the tens of bows she had created, none of them left her hands without the mark, engraved just above the leather grip, small and nearly undetectable but odd enough to be an enigma to any that held it. Lyris was silently spreading the mark of her family, but she had told none what the tattoo on her body or in her work meant; not even Luca. She would, one day. But it was still too precious a secret for her loosely bandaged heartstrings to release. She needed more time, even after all these years.

Lyris loved the stillness for the beauty of it and also for its practicality. Yes, the forest was serene, but when there was no pollution of noise, it was also vulnerable. She would be ashamed should she ever find out she had not noticed the man before he got within range of her. He was stealthy; excessively so, because few could evade her detection with such ease. The scars that marked her were products of ignorance, and she had learned her lesson long ago.

There was not a crack that alerted her, nor an unusual flash to the corner of her eye; instead, it was the displacement of air; the prick of fur on the back of her neck that told her unwelcome eyes were here. Lyris ceased her work and returned her dagger to its band, ever so casually reaching a hand over her head towards the saddlebags of her slumbering companion. And then, just as the first note of a voice confirmed her suspicions, Lyris clasped her fingers around an arrow, snapped her arm back, and nocked it into place, in the same fluid motion rising from her once-peaceful sit to the ever-so-familiar defensive crouch. The stone point of her arrow was pointed towards the base of the shadows that hovered just at the edge of her dancing flames. "I do not identify myself by either." She replied, her voice perfectly still, only interrupted by the faintest crackle of the fire. Her gaze, black in the lack of light, searched endlessly for the unidentified figure, and eventually she was able to pin the two glints in the dark, betraying their holder by reflecting the light of flames. She did not, however, point her bow directly at the concealed face; she was not one to push the stranger into action. Her shot was aimed towards the ground, inches from the slythering Luperci that evaded her sight. "And I am not the latter unless driven to be," She continued, unmoving. "...but I do not hold conversations with shadows. Come out." She commanded, the tips of her teeth revealing themselves in the early stages of a snarl. There was a very fine line between her trigger finger and the male's- she had not seen his weapon, but she knew he had one. Nobody made such a dramatic appearance without the security of a long-range weapon. Lyris had not come here to give or receive an arrow in the throat, and if she could help it, she was hopefully going to leave without one.

((500+)) o boi

Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
User avatar
Ann
Luperci Mate to Luca Stable Master The Brotherhood: Master of Tooth and Claw 2013, 2015 SoSuWriMo Champ! Stryder
princess cut from marble
smoother than a storm
these scars that mark my body?
SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Mon Apr 11, 2016 11:50 pm


MEOWWW someone is feisty and I dig it (and Lokr digs it too)

The woman moved quickly; So quickly that he would have commended her for it, were she not a well-armed stranger. In the darkness, his livid eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment even the stealthy hunter wondered if he had stumbled across something worth leaving hidden.

Her apparent skill was a lure all it's own, however. Salsola was ever wanting for skilled blood to add to their great poisonous stock; The prevalent families could not mix with their own kin forever, else he knew the blasted mountain would be born here again (damn Bane and her Khalif hoard; damn the witches for their feudal acceptance).

Holding himself still - a statue in the forest, the blackwoods that welcomed him and made him their own - Lokr watched the white woman with great anticipation.

"Strange," He replied to her clean-spoken words, his own voice roiling like silk around the crackling of the flames. "A woman warrior, alone on the mountain - No crafts to trade, no pelts to hunt, no children to guard; You cannot chide me for making assumptions," The latter words were a cool purr, grim black lips curling about the syllables in curious contempt.

"Forgive me, Valkyrie," He amended at last, and took one light-footed step into the ring of light cast by her hearth.

Nearer now, he could see the little details that made up her visage; Fur so light that in the reflection of the flames it was pearly, and silver against the gold - A curious crisscross of scars, lattice work along the side of her strong-jawed face. She was a handsome woman, tall and lean in the way of those wolfish ancestors to dwell in the deepcold, and this marked her also by the white snow of her pelt.

He had lowered his own notched arrow in some semblance of politeness, and offered her now a charlatans bow, curt and bent at the waist; Though his terrible eyes never left her, and they were the green and poison hue of Salsola.

"You've a bright fire, mistress; Too bright for a night as dark and long as this," His tall and tattered ears lifted sharply toward her, a familiar and lonesome echo of the coyote blood that ran in his blue veins. "What brings you to the mountain?"



slithered here from Eden

User avatar
Alaine
Luperci /
wrath of the north
a voice in the deep

POSTED: Sun Apr 17, 2016 9:08 pm

the dawn will break before you

This situation was unfamiliar. Since the unfortunate series of accidents that made up her past, the woman had considered herself superior in physical ability, if worse for wear in both marks of war and cracking heart. Rarely had there been a moment in time where she doubted herself, or doubted the outcome of any confrontation. Even should all odds be stacked against herself, Lyris was confident to the point of unreasonably so that she would persevere and be the victor. That was precisely why she seemed so prideful and almost dull in sense of self-preservation. But here, the understated figure draped in shadow and just out of her sharp sight had already began with a small victory of their own. The fact that this man, whoever he may be, had managed to intrude so close upon her camp before she gathered hint had Lyris' feathers ruffled. Second, that the eyes she caught only the slightest glimpses of seemed to burn green and deep had her under the impression that this shadow was intelligent. Lyris was often struck by the stupidity and ignorance of her foes, all of them had a series of flaws she could pick out upon sight, except maybe this body. His voice, his stealth, and the echo of his appearance had the Cavalier doubting who she was up against, and so her only surety was to grip her bow with all the technique she had been taught, and have her finger remain terrifyingly close to slipping hold from its string.

He spoke again, and Lyris did not move even an inch from where she remained poised, though her wolfish ears did flick back as her eyes narrowed to chips of ice. "I suppose not." The woman replied, though the sharpness in her voice betrayed her lack of trust. It was true, in the other's place she would have undoubtedly assumed the worst, as well. He was smart in the fact that he did not blindly approach, she had to relent as much. Then the shadow melted into a figure, and Lyris was finally allowed the ability to try and decipher the sly individual. She rose to her full height, feet staggered and bow pointed.

She was immediately put off by the amount of garb that was clasped to him, and what she considered the unnecessary gaudiness of his own weapon. Likewise, she was certain he had thoughts of his own about her apparent bareness, and how simple her own weapon and supplies were. They were exceedingly different in this way, but perhaps that was the largest point of diversity between them. Lyris had the impression that the stranger was held high in regard, from wherever his origin may be. Whether it be by his clear wealth in materials or advantage in skills, she was uncertain. Lyris lowered her bow, holding it still nocked and pulled, but towards the ground, now. Kenyon opened one cold eye from where he lay behind her. The stallion had undoubtedly been awake since the beginning of the exchange, but the war horse to-be had been Lyris' companion for long enough to realize the smartest thing to do here was to remain low, but ready to react if the need arose. The stranger was tall and sharp, and was comely in a cold way she was not certain was more alluring or repelling. "I beg to differ." The Knight responded, if only to say something to oppose whatever it was he said. "A reprieve, or a trade, or maybe just a venture. I have not decided yet." Lyris slowly lessened the pressure she had placed on the string attached to the bow she held, but her posture was never lighter. This male was not someone she would be trusting anytime soon. "What are you called?" Aside from shadow.

((600+)) i dig it third :')

Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
User avatar
Ann
Luperci Mate to Luca Stable Master The Brotherhood: Master of Tooth and Claw 2013, 2015 SoSuWriMo Champ! Stryder
princess cut from marble
smoother than a storm
these scars that mark my body?
SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Tue Apr 19, 2016 1:07 am


excuse me ma'am that is a nice bow

Her shaken confidence was largely unnecessary. Lokr was a hunter of the Blackwoods; He walked on ghostly feet, and watched from the shadows as his prey would falter. Thus exposed, with the golden effigy of the flamelight flickering against his dark pelt, all his arts of subterfuge and stealth were at a loss.

He had exposed himself, and at dire consequence. Had she the martial prowess that her scars proclaimed, she might easily destroy him in combat. Lokr was a hunter, an assassin, a ranged sort of monster; Not a warrior.

A similar mistake had stung him in the past, when Marlowe had gutted him and left him to die.

So he played upon his other skills - A silver tongue, a black charm, the memories of ancestors who had crawled out of the bleak loam and lorded themselves above all sorts of strong beastlings. Feigning unconcern about her agile prowess, Lokr tucked away his bow entirely, slinging it with nonchalance over one leather-clad shoulder. As she spoke, he welcomed himself to her fire; Crouched easily before it, lifting his sinning palms to warm them against the glow.

He thought perhaps to unsettle her, to throw her off-guard with his casual confidence. Even as his face turned toward the fire, his eyes peered hungrily from their corners to watch her still.

A smile curled about his black lips at her question. It amused him to know that Salsola's secrecy prevailed itself so much that even its leaders might remain unknown - Built only by reputation, as insubstantial and dangerous as the ill mist that sometimes rose up from the sea on this side of the mountain. Choosing to delay his answer, Lokr motioned his head toward her stallion, who seemed attentive if not relaxed in the control of his mistress. "A handsome horse," He commented drolly, sharp black pupils flitting quickly over her small camp, "And a handsome bow, if not rather plain. How did you come by such a weapon? It appears of good craft," The hunter rose from his crouch, and though he did not step any closer toward the white woman, his shadow seemed to spill across the space between them. "And you know well how to use it - I appreciate that, being a bowsman myself. It seems we have something in common, Valkyrie," He smiled at her, a quick flash of sharp, slightly yellowed teeth.

He paused then, regarding her with a lightly tilted head, a curious glitter of cunning green eyes. "I am called many things, by many people. You can call me Lokr - and how may I return the honor?" He was close enough to smell her, now, and black nose twitched as it drew deeply of her scent; Trying to decipher her story from it, where she had traveled from, and whose people were her own.



slithered here from Eden

User avatar
Alaine
Luperci /
wrath of the north
a voice in the deep

POSTED: Sun Apr 24, 2016 10:53 pm

the dawn will break before you

She was being paranoid. It was one of her less useful skills among the many she possessed, and while she had managed to improve upon that particular flaw over her years of usurping enemies and killing the creators of her tragic past- bears themselves- Post Traumatic Stress would never leave her. Lyris was an expert at hiding it, and she didn't feel the effects of the condition like most would have. Hers transformed into aggression and excess caution, as opposed to cowering in fear over every crack in the woods or glare from any creature that breathed. Rather, she kept a very trigger-happy finger close by, coupled with an endless lack of trust. Lokr, as the dark king named himself, was quiet on the opposite edge of the fire and had put his weapon away. If he wished to make an attack, he had put himself in a very unfortunate position, and from the few moments of interaction Lyris knew that he was not dumb enough to make such a mistake. Unless she was expecting him to sprout wings, it was impossible for him to make a move on her without her reacting first. He had seen how quickly she had snapped her arrow into place. Still, she waited, weapon taut, if pointed down. Several more second of unnecessary wariness later, and Lyris came to a logical conclusion that they were not in the mood to attack one another, for now. The Cavallo lifted the arrow from its perch and slid it back into the quiver attached to Kenyon's saddle bags, instead choosing to hold the bow loosely at her side, claws clicking along the dark wood of its slender frame.

The fire cracked, fingers of flamelight throwing every curve of the scene into over dramatic shadow. The man's serpentine gaze flickered to her companion, and Lyris' claws stopped their clicking, if only for a second. "Yes." Any eyes rested on her stallion had Lyris feel immediately territorial, and she did only relax when the comment just skimmed his tongue, to be engaged in other conversation. Kenyon could sense the thick, strange energy between his female and the stranger, and he snorted white smoke in recognition. Lyris reacted only by a flick of her tail, and the animal remained silent thereafter. "I should hope it was. Any weapon less than handsome is not one I composed." She did something very odd, very uncharacteristic, then. Quickly and lightly, she tossed the dark-wood bow towards him, her intent for his reflexes to be sharp enough to catch it before it fell to flame. Lyris' icy eyes never left his as she dared him to run with it. He would not; if he did, she would be surprised, but would undoubtedly relish the chase. It was a challenging gesture, but also one bilateral; she only meant for him to examine it. "I mayhaps came to trade it; I have created many similar." His comment among bowsmen drew from her the faintest of barely detectible nods; she, too, could respect another who knew the art of shooting, especially should they manage to practice it within the shroud of stealth. "Lyris." Said she, crossing her arms across her chest if only for some place to set them other than by her sides.

The air was stagnant, and his scent was a melting pot of things she could not decipher nor associated with any certain place. Should he know the tells of Casa di Cavalieri, she bore them, but had always tended to avoid bathing in the smells of her home too deeply. Her individuality was important to Lyris, and she was careful to preserve it. "Who is Valkyrie?" The question was random and sudden, but she was intrigued, and so she wanted an answer. She was not afraid to ask.

((600+)) she likes 2 throw things

Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
User avatar
Ann
Luperci Mate to Luca Stable Master The Brotherhood: Master of Tooth and Claw 2013, 2015 SoSuWriMo Champ! Stryder
princess cut from marble
smoother than a storm
these scars that mark my body?
SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Tue May 10, 2016 4:30 am


resisted the urge to have the bow smack him in the face, but only just

He noted the energy that radiated within her. It was impossible to ignore, and would have been visible to the man even if he hadn't been born with serpent's eyes; Hungry, watching. She was battle-ready, he understood, and would leap into the fray at any given opportunity. Seeing as he was rather fond of living, Lokr made certain not to give her one - He moved with the slow ease of a panther, a beast comfortable within its body and confident in its apparent safety.

But he was not foolish. There was no real safety here; He did not doubt that at any moment, at any perceived slight or threat, that she would be upon him like a hellion.

This made the nickname even more suitable, and Lokr smiled in satisfaction to himself.

Maintaining the illusion of companionship, his black-lipped grin grew even further at her words, till flamelight glittered against the curve of many sharp off-white teeth. "You are the crafter of such a weapon?" His dark clawed hand snatched out at the air, deftly catching the supple bow before it fell to the hungry maw of the fire. He held it a moment in one palm, before tossing it lightly to the other; Back and forth, testing its weight and balance, its line and character.

It was as he had seen, and as he had thought; A plain weapon, but of exceptional make. Appearances would deceive the unskilled weaponeer into thinking it something paltry. But between his skilled fingers, the bow was a thing of beauty, of great value.

He felt the woman's gaze watching him from across the fire as he, in turn, watched her bow. Scales shifted inside his gut, warmed by coals that had begun to glow.

"Lyris," He echoed at last, rolling the name off of his tongue like a priest giving sermon. He could smell it on her, now; The significant markers that defined her, faint though they were. Casa di Cavalieri, the Lord Commander thought, but it was a lazy realization and did not give him grave concern. "You are an excellent craftsman, but if you hope to fool a man into paying a worthy price, your weapons could use some ornamentation," He continued, gesturing lightly to the dragons-head carved into his own longbow. "I know it might seem ridiculous, but not many will know the value of your craft as well as you or I - and so many fools are waylaid by glitter and charm," He smiled at her again, a perfect representation of both.

Instead of tossing the bow back to her, Lokr took the moment to step closer; Around the fire, nearer to her glowing white form.

"Valkyrie is a goddess of the old world," He would curse the Helsi brood later for bringing such things to mind, but Siv and her kin had always spoken of their gods, and Lokr retained all things regardless of wanting; "A woman-warrior, a champion to the victors of war," He stopped some few paces from her, and held out the bow. "It seemed a fitting calling for you," Said the dark man, eyeing her lithe form and myriad scars with dangerous appreciation.



slithered here from Eden

User avatar
Alaine
Luperci /
wrath of the north
a voice in the deep

POSTED: Wed May 11, 2016 8:57 pm

the dawn will break before you

He had caught what she'd thrown him, and so she fell to silence, watching. The crackling of fire and dancing of flamelight was the only thing to fill the quiet His question went unanswered; yes, obviously she had made it- that is what she had said. Lyris had never understood nor much liked the need people felt to ask things they already knew the answer to. This dark prince was obviously a man of words- she could not say as much. Maybe he understood the subtleties and art behind queues that Lyris had no taste for. If such was the case, then they were superior in very different aspects, though equally deadly in each term.

Her name was spoken, but not by her. Lyris' ears shifted with the syllables, uncertain how to feel with the roll of her identity off his tongue. Then he continued, with what he thought as constructive criticism. The Cavallo was no tradesman; she only knew the very basics of value in accordance to quality and time, and was aware her bows were traded for probably less than they were worth. She never minded all that much, given she had never been very attached to things of physicality. Her eyes, black in the dim light, flickered once again to his weapon that she had immediately judged by sight earlier in their confrontation. With further examination, she was aware that the dragon's head was elegant and interesting, but still entirely unnecessary. Lyris tipped her scar-laced jaw to the right, giving a hmm low in her throat before responding. "I assume that you would be numbered among the fools, then?" Though her voice was flat, sarcasm was the reality, however hidden. Lokr was no fool, that much was clear. He was only drawn to beautiful, unique things- a tendency that she could not relate to so quickly. "I am aware. Adding gaudy things to a weapon created for functionality has never been a practice of mine." Her eyes shifted, again, from the man to the fire, and then back to the man. "It is something more to consider. Perhaps I will return with something worthy of a fool's cache." Lyris could not say she had not wondered what her bows would look like with adornments. Already, the archer pictured possibilities in her mind. It would take experimenting, but with time, she could perfect even the unnecessary additions. The shadow moved.

As the fire-eyed man chose to answer her question, he came closer, boldly sidestepping the fire to approach. Lyris was fully torn between standing her ground or shifting a half-step back, to show she was not comfortable with the change. Her arms uncrossed, falling lightly to her sides, able to be used in a second's notice. He did not attack, however. Instead, her bow was re-extended. The Cavalier met his eyes and took it back, drawing her fingers along the curve of the wood. She had decided to stand her ground, but her eyes had become narrow again, her posture just as tall and cautionary as before. "Lyris is even more fitting." She shot back, clicking the line of her claws against the dark wood of her weapon. "Should you be set on nicknames, however, shadow is yours." Lokr's eyes were sharp, and Lyris was still curiously weighing her attraction and repulsion. Now she took that half-step back, though it was more towards the fire than away from him. She was cold. "Where may it be that shadows come from?" Her eyes were flat, and her voice just as dead.

((500+)) 'scuse superfast post i am bracket-cramming. and also how did you resist

Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
User avatar
Ann
Luperci Mate to Luca Stable Master The Brotherhood: Master of Tooth and Claw 2013, 2015 SoSuWriMo Champ! Stryder
princess cut from marble
smoother than a storm
these scars that mark my body?
SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Wed May 11, 2016 10:19 pm


you smash those brackets, dear! I believe in you!

She was obviously displeased with his suggestions. Lokr had expected as much, and was warmed by the disdain in the woman's expression; They were beasts of a different nature, certainly, fired in separate kilns. But that did not make her a hateful enigma - It made her a precious curiosity, something worth probing further.

By his nearness the woman - Lyris - was made uncomfortable. The hunter could see this too, in the way her weight shifted lightly on her feet, the way her arms uncurled from her sides and were made ready. But she did not step aside from him, nor display submission of any sort. It was surprisingly welcome, this standoffish resistance; He was a prince of the dark soil, and all Salsola bowed before the right hand of the Queen.

But of course, the ivory woman did not know this, for all she saw was a man - A man of shadows, a man of cruel green eyes that glittered with draconic interest as they watched her.

He laughed at her jibe, and it was a surprisingly warm sound, crushed velvet like the rustling tones of his voice. "I take no offense, Lady; Perhaps you speak the truth, and pretty things do make a fool of me," By the sharp line of his gaze he accused her, though she was no pretty thing; That was too weak a word to describe Lyris.

As she stepped nearer to the flame, Lokr gave her distance and approached no further - Though by their nearness he could smell deeply of the pack scent on her, and wondered at it. Casa had no business in Halcyon. This range, by extension, was the patrolling grounds of Salsola, Inferni, and further east Anathema. The wide and choppy bay that separated the thistle kingdom from its stoic knightly neighbors meant that they rarely saw much of one another; This seemed particularly fortunate, considering the bad blood that lay thick between them.

It did not frighten him, nor deter him. Even if she had been able to discern the truth of his scent, which even now was hidden beneath layers of pine and salt, to attack the leader of an opposing monarchy would be an act of war.

Salsola had been preparing in the event of such a war since its foundation.

"Shadows come from all corners of the earth," The words were a sigh upon his black lips. He supposed all truces must end, at one time or another, and moved in caution to the opposite side of her fire.

Having done so, he pulled aside the collar of his leather hunting vest to reveal the scar tattooed upon left pectoral. A mark was carved deep into the flesh there, such that fur did not grow over it, and it stood livid against the mottled darkness that made his body.

"Do you recognize this sigil?" The hunter asked slowly, prepared for her fury or hatred. The Hand of Eris bound him to Salsola, as did his blood. The crackling flames danced between them, and he watched her avidly, keen for any movement of threat; Keen to see the flicker of realization in her eyes. "I am Lokr Revlis," He said again, slower this time, savoring the taste of the words, "Lord Commander of Salsola."



slithered here from Eden

User avatar
Alaine
Luperci /
wrath of the north
a voice in the deep

Dead Topics