Real Loyalty

Alaine!

POSTED: Tue Dec 25, 2018 2:17 am

[[Gift Giving from Shaamah to Elphaba - I didn't know how best to start this, so the starter is small. <3]]

Claws braced against the cedar box as he moved with direction through the territory. His own tower loomed in the background as he neared the crossroad of Idrieus and Loki's residences and through to the heart of the ruins, his lone eye placed on the tower of the Boss of Salsola. He was still a family member withing Salsola's walls, and while that wasn't a 'bad' thing, Shaamah wasn't one to stagnate long. It did take some doing to learn the finer details of the culture of this place. However it was that he fit in, it would ensure that it was seamless. Though, in Salsola, morality was questionable at best.

Then again, that suited him just fine.

There were things lacking in the mountain of a man, but debts were not something that went unpaid. He arrived through the castle ruins to the castle proper, and through that he stood at the threshold of the Throne room tower. Strong arm lifted and three raps echoed through the wood and into the space behind it. He wasn't so much a coward as to drop the box and avoid the woman's calculating stare. No. He invited it. There were a few things he had to discuss and the gift he had stationed in this box was just the beginning.

Salsola would know of his loyalty and he would prove it to the only soul that it truly mattered to within the territory.
Show'em the Ol'Razzle Dazzle
Salsola
The Tradesman
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Luperci
War is in My Heart

POSTED: Wed Jan 02, 2019 12:58 am

Word Count → ??? :: ty so much for starting love!!

Another miserably cold day peaked beyond the last remaining glass windows in the tower. Narrow, miserly slits, they allowed only spears of the pale sickly light to break the cold grey shadows of the stone tower. Underfoot the wide slabs bit with chill, and even through the pads of her feet Elphaba could feel winter's force.

She walked carefully, using the furs spread out like rugs as stepping stones. With the season in full menace she felt her hybrid blood more keenly; The Pentiti had been a lanky, yote-ish man, and much as she had craved it in her youth Elphaba had never inherited Osrath's plush wolfish beauty.

To guard herself against the grim air, the young queen wore a thick woolen overshirt with braided patterning, rustic but of a high enough quality to show her veritable wealth. Bare aside from this, she looked like a dark splash of ink in the largeness of the chamber, the waist-length tumble of her raven hair flowing with liquidity through each motion.

Though no suitors or reports were expected today, the sharp knocking came as little surprise. More often than not the Family sought audience with her here, as the only times she was liable to leave mid-winter were on her pilgrimages to the Blackwoods. Most knew better than to disturb her there.

Reclining in the highbacked stone throne with a steaming clay mug of brew in hand, Elphaba's sparkling vermilion eyes rose with curiosity to the doorway. "Come in!"


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: Mon Jan 14, 2019 7:18 am

[[He's wearing second to last outfit. White shirt, no black tunic. - https://i.imgur.com/751Cga8.png]]

The summon came from the belly of the throne room at the beck of his gentle rap, her tone lost within the wooden configuration of the entry to her chamber. He could not assume her mood by an inflection he could not detect.

Bolt clattered as he pulled the door askew of it's frame and the hinge protested with a groan of metallic timbre. As the chill of the earth swirled within, his silhouette scattered cast gamboled rays and shadows that danced with his movement against the masonry. The crack of distant thunder roiled in the northern most point of the Halcyon range. The clouds had not yet eaten the brightest star, but the whisper of wind through the hollow cracks and spaces offered insight, a natural discourse, to the slow approaching, frigid tempest. Obsequiously, he delved deeper into Salsola's citadel, now snared in her abode as the ruin was staved of the bitter chill by the solid clap of it's threshold.

The variegated hermit hovel from where he had come upon his trophy seemed to have had hand in the fortuity his home trip provided. Strange, the woman there, with her cascaded threads, and what she was to him yet didn't matter. Fruitful, he had found his journey, and that was where his distinction remained. Culled on his return from a neutral territory, the feline within his case had been taken with precision, purpose, and prudent forethought. Circumspection found the corpse in the hands of a proper tanner, undamaged, and thereafter a masterly tailor. It's features fine and stately, to be august on the shoulders of the Queen it had been altered for.

Foot pads scuffed with sweeping stride as canine talons scratched mercilessly against the cold floor. Without word, he entered the full breadth of her keep. Nails were patient at the end of ebon digits. His breath, at rest. The grandeur of the central nested, fortified palace came as little surprise. Here the atmosphere hung heavy, weighted with power of a soul that could rule with a single word and steadily measured by cardinal eyes, contriving and dissecting all that was held in her vista.

“My Queen,” With a tact that had not become him in the venomous strangle that was Sapient, Shaamah spoke on his own behalf. He would no longer trudge that unseen line, to communicate in a way that would acquit him from the deeds of the myriad he claimed. This world was different. He was an agent, for her empire. A soldier, for her cause. It would be her will, alone, that would be his incentive and today was the day he would undertake the oath of that fidelity.

His posture, ordained by his birth rite and the social constructs of the most basic canine understanding, yielded. Brow moved forward as he arched in bow and ears rolled aft, his edges stripped clean of all supremacy that could ever be held of a warrior with his exposure. Even so, the cedar wood crate was handled with care, regardless of his subordinate gesture.

When he righted, his full stature stood and the threads of his finest attire draped from shoulders, just barely kissed by the flurries that threatened the tower's outer facade. Strong arms presented the scented chest with an outward stretch, bracing the box away from his breast for her to declare what would be done with the initial reason he was here,” My offering to you,” Baritone lexis barely a hum, abrasive in guttural tone, even in it's most placid form. Textured alabaster upon his biceps, braced at the wrist with leather bands, creased upward to his shoulder with his presentation. The high waist of drop crotch pant, bound in leather as well, gave a more discerning look to the both rare and functional clothing that actually fit him rightly.

In her repose, he did not meet her gaze. Lone cerulean eye fixed on the steaming figuline grasped within her paw. Helena was keen to educate this warrior in a way that would have her commended and Shaamah, an intelligent man despite what he'd let believe, avidly collected memory of her law and culture. Before, his method had been to adhere to the better judgment of those above him in title. Here, he wouldn't dare give the Thistle Kingdom any less than what it was worth.

He did not utter out of turn. Properly, he bid his silence until she'd have him speak.

“A commander that has well defined a position of claim, deserving of well maintained regard,” Some might boast or brag, other's dare to stain their nares with earthen hues, but Shaamah thrived on the structure, the respect, and the order. His remark wasn't hollow with the expectation of reward, or seeking advantageous domain. He lived for these traditional values and had desired them for too long. Where on his first weeks within Nivosus' poorly scrounged land claim, his own people spoke ill of their Sagax. In Salsola, not a murmur dared reach his ear of Elphaba in any gross constitution. Such an illustrated definition of her authority surpassed her. Notwithstanding his commendation, he wasn't here to explain to her that she was likely well aware of.

He had more presents than his presence and in addition to the item that had been fashioned solely for her, exquisitely crafted, hidden in the obscurity of an unassuming casket. This was a homage of his loyalty, an item that had yet to be earn by any face in Nova Scotia. To Elphaba, it would be offered, without question, but not quite yet. First, the gift. Then all else would follow.


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Show'em the Ol'Razzle Dazzle
Salsola
The Tradesman
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Luperci
War is in My Heart

POSTED: Sun Feb 24, 2019 8:00 am

Word Count → ??? :: five thousand years later, a reply from me!

Come in he did; And for all its grandeur the tower seemed scarcely big enough to hold him. She had seen O'Riley duck his head to enter through the doorway here and it was no less an obstacle for this man - Shaamah - whose size and breadth recalled him to her well before his scent and face. Elphaba had a good memory. This was a Revlis trick, and one well learned. But even so she thought that he had grown larger somehow, or that her first impression of him must have been from the lofty view of horseback.

It was of no matter other than to impress her, for in this tower no man nor woman was taller than the shadow of reputation cast by the Queen herself.

The deep, rough baritone of his voice provoked her to sit a little straighter with interest. With her fingers twined around the mug, Elphaba leaned imperceptibly forward in her seat, the black smile on her lips growing sharp with pearly teeth.

She saw that it took some manner of effort for him to bow. It wasn't the height of his physical stature that seemed to be an impediment; Rather, the height of his own personal value. She had seen this before; Pride was not uncommon here. But it made it all the more valuable when he dipped, surprisingly graceful for a man so large and encumbered.

Helena had taught him well, but this was to be expected. She had failed to disappoint with any of her wards yet.

"Well!" A single word to grant him with the fullness of her pleasure - Elphaba held no reservation of it in her tone, brimming with the warmth that an unprecedented gift warranted. Another ruler might have fawned, but certainly this was not the first nor last offering the young Queen had received, and she reserved greater fondness for the quality revealed on inspection. A gift was customary. A valuable gift?

That was... Favorable.

She set aside her drink and rose. Though average in stature and lean in build, there was something to be said for the way that Elphaba's force of presence could fill a room. It was both natural and learned; The privilege of her birth had made her destined to rule, and Salvia's lessons had reinforced the raw materials that had already existed.

Her feet were utterly soundless on the floor as she stepped forward to take the pretty wooden box from the warrior.

His second sentiment caught her unexpectedly, and she held still for a beat, regarding him with a scrutiny that made lesser men wither. "You speak cleverly for a man who once wore the mantle of Outsider," His words were not pretty, but direct, a sword meant to cut through flowery niceties and deliver the message directly. Salsola was full of silver tongues, but few had such brevity. "Kingdom life must suit you, just as your presence suits me well enough. But all this," She gestured to the box, held carefully under one arm, and then to his refined posture, "Suggests to me that you have something more to say."

Because it suited her to do so, she reclined once more on the stone throne. The wooden box sat heavily in her lap - he had made carrying its weight look easy. Her fingers ran over the surface eagerly, but she did not open it yet; The man was of much greater interest than the gift therein. "You know me for a commander, and you know my land to be wealthy and strong; But how do you know that I am worthy of high regard? How do you know that I am worthy of your regard?"


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: Sat Apr 20, 2019 6:04 am

Nuances.

The two souls within the breadth of Elphaba's tower held an enormous ability to command such slight things. Small motions moved more powerfully than words, with a might that even large actions could not contest. It was a hidden conversation aside the one that echoed in the stone hall, where only trained eyes could find the meaning beneath what was and more importantly what wasn't done.

History was in his words, in the very way he spoke them, and in what ways they rose and fell in baritone tune they found the Boss in her grandeur. A King does not forget. Without a single word, it was clear that her opinion of his presence shifted as her back straightened. Her grin, achieved by her title. Her respect, honored by his lurched shoulders in a gesture that was so much more than simply custom. Of course, he wasn't such a fool as to think these would be the only things to please her. To think she wasn't so much more complex than she led on, would be digging a grave. His death wouldn't be in a conversation. Despite his countenance, he was much wiser than his figure lead on.

It was the emphatic expression of interest that rung through the hall, whether it was expectation, surprise or mirth that she held would be defined easily, later. A woman so powerful in her own might would let it be known what this items worth was to her, if the item could even shadow what it was Shaamah truly had to offer this bleak and frigid day.

She came like a bird of prey she down from her roost, silently and intently, for her quarry. Yet, it wasn't the gift that she took carefully into her talons that was her true target. The brilliant rubicund gaze found him, and while he held his stature as subservient to her, he did not falter. So close as this and she would smell fear. No, Shaamah was a different breed. A man who feared nothing, but knew his place beneath the crown, was a gem in a world of calm just as much as it was an unerring blade in war.

Eyelids closed, accepting her observation with a silent, slow dip of his muzzle. Cold glacier blue revealed to the world again, but came no rise to his maw. Elphaba noted his mind, as well as his previous stature. A rise and a fall, an admirable quality against a terrible lacking. It was a statement that might make a man feel pride in himself, simply for words. It was a test, and he was not blind to it.

Like an omnipotent force, Elphaba reached for more than just the box that had been offered her. Her claim to his purpose was more than simply a shot in the dark. He'd think her the wiser Queen for it. Simple gifts did not distract her, and it sat in her attention as she waited patiently for the true purpose of today's calling, which she had not yet asked for. In that, Shaamah gave her silence rather than the loose flapping of idle an idle maw. She poised herself. Digits trailed over the container, though she did not crack it open. Shaamah knew the worth of the gift, and it made no difference to him whether she chose to find it's contents now, or without him present. Should she wear the item when he might see her in the future, then it would be spoken whether or not she saw it fitting for her stature. The waiting had never bothered him before, as his patience for such simple things was greater than the strength of his body.

Lips parted, finally, with a question worded specifically to taste exactly what it was that Shaamah was worth to her. As every question she had ever asked of him did in true fashion, she was gauging him in the very same way he had measured so many before him. Why did he choose to serve her so? Could it be that the mirror, though warped with features more feminine that were not his own, resembled him through the shadow of meat and bones and into a fundamental groundwork of being at it's core. She suited him, and in that, he knew very well that he suited her.

“A kingdom so vast, though it yields barely a footprint, is not lead by one to be taken lightly. A Queen, name unknown beyond her walls 'lest she let it be, with fingers that reach into every corner of this land in alias claimed shadows, may hold the very world around her at the throat. It is your power that proceeds you, My Queen,” A dash of her earned respect, so that she might not forget that while he claimed the name of Salsola, he belonged to her, and what he saw in her did not lift him above this corporeal state in which he stood.

Her first inquiry answered, he beget her an answer for the latter,” In your silence, there is strength. Your cunning cannot be so easily duplicated. True monarchs know this, and I will be ruled by less no longer,” The heft of his body shifted. Down, his weight came, to one knee as it rested against the cold stone beneath him. Forearm planted it's center firmly upon his raised knee, and his crown turned to the earth below him. There was no reason for him to speak more to her. She knew her worth, and now she would know that he did as well. He kneeled to her, and thought he had no sword to give, it was his body that was his weapon to offer to her.

“I, Shaamah, shall be your shield, that I may shed my blood for you. In that, As you stand unmarred in the wake of war, your enemies will indelibly know you to be immortal,” Knuckles met the floor like knotted roots of an aged oak. It would be her call that would have him rise, and until then, the fervent cerulean gaze would burn into the very stone at her feet.


1041
Show'em the Ol'Razzle Dazzle
Salsola
The Tradesman
User avatar
Dark
Luperci
War is in My Heart

POSTED: Sat May 11, 2019 4:01 am

Word Count → ??? :: ---

It was left to them to see the echoes of familiarity that existed, shared as all living things might share. Even in their worst enemies they might see something of themselves. Men were not all so different, though they very much liked to pretend at it.

For Elphaba, who was both rightfully a dangerous, powerful ruler and a fallible creature prone to her own vices, what she saw of herself in Shaamah, she admired.

When Osrath had lived in the tower, there had always been a mirror at hand. Worn, silvering, polished or cracked, it made no difference. Beauty was worthy of reflection on every surface, and many agreed that Elphaba's mother had been the most radiant gem in Salsola's enviable crown.

Under the witch queen's inheritance the halls were darker, less extravagant if still luxuriant. There were no mirrors.

Her eyes, fixated unerringly upon the kneeling man, were bright as fresh blood.

She let him wait, but not for very long.

"I accept," You are mine. Rapturous with inner fire, Elphaba felt that at any moment smoke might curl out of her nose, out of her eagerly parted lips. Her pupils were pinpricks of darkness, voracious for all they saw. "My Oathsworn. Rise and know that your queen heeds you. I am the Law, and the Law is wielded and obeyed by beasts of honor. May it look upon you with favor, for all the days that you serve me loyally."

The curved swell of her chest rose and fell with an excitement she did not care to conceal. In another young woman it might have been sweet. There was very little about Elphaba Revlis that could be considered such a thing.

Her fingers pried the edge of the wooden box open, and at last she looked inside.


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
↟ ↟ ↟

Salsola