interlude - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: interlude (/showthread.php?tid=23615) |
- Siv Helsi - 12-22-2011 [html] # :: This is what the horse is wearing.
It had been a long process, but Siv was thrilled with her results. She had been careful to go when the Hunter was not around, and only run into Salvia once. She had not given much information as far as her goals of the time, but measurements had been easy enough to gather. Fixing together the hides had been more difficult, but she was a skilled woman, and with little duties beyond this, time was hers to kill. Two reindeer, each females (she had realized this from their antlers, and given them to her daughter to chew on) had gone into the contraption. Making the dye was harder. A massive collection of pine had gone into the green, and once satisfied with the cut and construction of her leather, she had allowed it to soak for two full days. A rich, beautiful shade of green had taken away the light golden-yellow. It had been left alone along the edges, though she had gone in later and brushed this in with a secondary piece of leather. To accent the orange, she had used alder. Yellow came with sumac, and it was a brilliant shade she was truly happy with. It had been harder to find something useable for the blue, but dogwood had suited this need. The horse was calm enough for her to strap on the headpiece, and the blanket was slipped on with ease. It was held together around the chest by simple loops and long buttons made from bone. Pleased with her appearance, the woman looped on Luna’s lead and pulled her out into the land outside of the barn. A single call was given for the dark man she called master. <style type="text/css"> #sivtext { min-width:500px; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; } #sivtext p { text-indent:0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-peft:0px; } #sivtext .ooc { float:right; text-align:right; font-style: italic; } </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 12-23-2011 [html] unnecessarily huge post :/ -> 5+
As it was, Sirius was approaching the location of the woman before her ringing cry pierced the crisp air. He had been prowling in the Northernmost plains beyond their territory, near to the base of Halcyon. The mountain had been exhaling cold breath down on Salsola for some time now, and already its peaks were capped with telltale white. Often, the monarch's serpentine gaze could see the ominous curls of bruising clouds, looming on the other side of its breach.
Sirius Revlis Hail the Conqueror Worm .gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;} .gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;} .gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;} .gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html] - Siv Helsi - 12-23-2011 [html] #409 ::
There was still a very primal and very simple way about her life. She had gone through the wilderness with very little tools at her disposal, and less aid once the stupid horse had broken its leg. Caring for a child during this was an insane, but not impossible, feat. Finding the others was what had made her wait—she had not stopped until the land spoke, and until she caught the whisper of power in its breath. How right she had been, now. The gods had proven this the night that the moon bled red and she had collapsed on the shore. Power coursed through these lands. Such power was no better exemplified than in the man who came forth from the underbrush. Siv subconsciously stiffened in his presence; his musk radiated forth and practically screamed what he was. Master of this land, Hunter, Lord. He was in his prime, her elder; he was old enough to know the difference between youthful cruelty and elder wisdom. There was an instant repelling force from him, but it was like that of a riptide. Deep in her loins she felt the familiar stirrings of heat, but he was not a man who could so easily be conquered. She could tell this from the scars on his chest, the very way he carried himself. Deep in her eyes a dark flame flickered, perhaps the only hint that she found him attractive. This was not even a physical response—he was too short for her liking, though instinctively, her body recognized the alpha male’s power and desired it. Siv would not have been able to properly submit in her form without dropping to the ground, but she made a display of doing something similar. Head dropped, knees bent, and she sunk briefly to touch the ground with one dark palm. This done, she returned and while her head was high, her eyes remained carefully locked at the clasp around his neck. “My Lord Hunter,” her voice rolled forth, formal and trained for public speaking. “I wish to present you with a token of my appreciation.” With this, she held out the reins to him and crossed one arm over her bare, still milk-swollen chest. It was a formal motion, but one done in order to best present her sultry shape to the man. Regardless of his rank, power, or might, he was still a man and all men were, ultimately, simple things. <style type="text/css"> #sivtext { min-width:500px; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; } #sivtext p { text-indent:0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-peft:0px; } #sivtext .ooc { float:right; text-align:right; font-style: italic; } </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 12-23-2011 [html] *gurgle* -> 3+
Although submissive, he felt a distinct lack of fear within her, as he had from the mare. It was not a response that the King received often, and when presented with a lack of it, his dominance felt innately threatened. In a cruel and harsh land that sought survival over all else, fear was power - Although their culture had become more civil from these primal and wicked notions, the instinctive root of it remained. Slightly unnerved, the monarch's narrowed pupils were extra sharp in looking for signs of rebelliousness of rudeness; Such things, accompanied by her apparent lack of modest fear, would have been unrelentingly punished.
Sirius Revlis Hail the Conqueror Worm .gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;} .gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;} .gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;} .gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html] - Siv Helsi - 12-23-2011 [html] #306 ::
Even though she did not look at his face, his body spoke to her. There was a flutter under his bear-pelt, a shift of his head. What a prideful creature; he was like the very peacock. The corner of her lips pulled back in a faint smile, but it was one that did not linger. A command was given, and while she was hardly stooping now, Siv adjusted her position as if she had been waiting. It felt peculiar to be subservient to a man—but she had not missed the scrutiny of his eyes as they followed her body. Baby-fat still clung to her, but it was a sign of good breeding to be able to hold onto such. A skinny waif would die under the harsh hand of winter. The horses were things she did not bother with, and so Siv ignored them and focused her attention on the man alone. It was he she had intended to impress, he who had the true power. She smiled at the slippery coating of his words, wondering how many women had fallen to such tactics. “Siv, my Lord Hunter.” No surname; she did not need one here. If things moved along as she had planned, in time, she would claim another. “When I came to your land,” even now she phrased things in such terms; there were games played with words, and she wove them well. “I came with little. I could not properly gift the hospitality of your kingdom.” She flicked her eyes to the pale mare’s blanket at the mention of it. “I was trained by various hands; the secrets of the craft were passed down to worthy apprentices of the bloodline. I have been practicing since I was a girl.” There was no boasting from her, for her skill showed itself clearly enough. <style type="text/css"> #sivtext { min-width:500px; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; } #sivtext p { text-indent:0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-peft:0px; } #sivtext .ooc { float:right; text-align:right; font-style: italic; } </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 12-23-2011 [html] 3+
Still, that feeling of impudence seemed to linger about her - As though he wielded no true power over her, but that which she allowed him to think he did wield. It was disconcerting, and put the King ill at ease. He was a master at confrontation, and had she openly opposed him, it would have been easy to school her; easy, and possibly brutal. But she was inexplicably well-mannered, in spite of the strange self-possessed control that he calmness emanated.
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Perhaps he had expected her to be physically capable; it did take her a great deal of strength to rip away hides, to strip the flesh from them, but she was no warrior. This was, perhaps, an understatement though. Her people were all fighters. They were not a soft bunch and they did not care for weaklings. If she had been attacked, she would have been more than capable of defending herself. Size alone granted her this. Experience was limited, but she had something to live for—and her daughter was worth dying for, as far as Siv was concerned. She smiled mysteriously at his question, that same black fire flickering in her eyes. “I am völva; it is what The Dark Lady called a witch. She, too, is völva. I saw that when I first came.” There was no doubt in her about this. Eris had projected an image that Siv could not ignore. She had sensed it before, even, when she had scouted the borders and tried to spot the orange-eyed girl that had alluded her. Behind Sirius, the gray mare snorted at the younger, paler horse, and stamped one hoof loudly. <style type="text/css"> #sivtext { min-width:500px; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; } #sivtext p { text-indent:0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-peft:0px; } #sivtext .ooc { float:right; text-align:right; font-style: italic; } </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 12-23-2011 [html] 3+
Her smile caught him unaware - It was a wicked thing, and now he felt the prominent heat of her power, curling out from the dark woman. Although he found her physically attractive - She would bear strong children, her strangeness held within it a certain lure not misused on the eyes of the King - this whisper of otherworldly presence about her, of mystery, made him far more nervous than he was aroused. Wariness and appeal conflicted, leaving him uncertain, a state which he found himself in rarely, if at all.
Sirius Revlis Hail the Conqueror Worm .gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;} .gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;} .gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;} .gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html] - Siv Helsi - 12-23-2011 [html] ::
There was an instant—and only an instant—in which she saw something that could have been fear pass through him. It was a cloud passing the sun, a severe and surprising darkness that set the hair under her thick mane all on end. This was not because he was afraid, no, but because she was certain in that moment he was not a man who would stand idle by if her magic turned ill omens against him. Yet…and yet she had seen it. Already, a raven-black part of her soul had struck out and hooked talons into such knowledge. She decided, then, that while he would not break under her grasp that he could at least bend. It would be like playing with fire. Acidity burnt in his eyes, and that fear turned into a severe and savage hatred for the unknown. There was power here. She had been right all along and Siv felt her bones settle. Eris must have sensed it to bring them this far. Purple eyes narrowed as a faint smile brushed her face, though it was startled off at his sudden gift. Siv visibly gaped, as if the gift was overwhelming. In a way, it was. She took the leather (poorly made, she noted in a disconnected sort of way) and drew the spotted thing towards her. This was not without a solid yank, though it earned her a set of pinned ears and a sharp look that promised retribution. Wary of this, Siv took a step and once more sunk lowly and gracefully in a show of submission. “I will not disappoint you, my Lord Hunter.” Yet even as her thick hair tumbled about her shoulders, her mind flew up from the ground and sought out all the years-gone-by teachings. She would find a way into his heart (if he had one) and she would ensure her destiny was one that was predicted. The gods would help her; they, after all, had a stake in her claim as well. <style type="text/css"> #sivtext { min-width:500px; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; } #sivtext p { text-indent:0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-peft:0px; } #sivtext .ooc { float:right; text-align:right; font-style: italic; } </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 12-23-2011 [html] 3+
Her response to his gift was pleasing, soothing some of the male's metaphorically ruffled feathers. Her hand grazed his again as she took the leather thong from him, but this time the contact merely left him uneasy once more. She was a witch - To be respected, but not trusted, and only this for as long as she acted compliantly. At the first sign of danger to himself or his Family, the Hunter would come for her. It would be the same way with any Luperci of great power, be they a warrior or an assassin. If the power could be used against him, it had to be most carefully monitored.
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