I will face my fear

Sirius Revlis · 07-31-2011, 09:53 PM

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Word Count » 3+

ooc: ALAINE, Y U SUCKSOBAD. he's giving her the hunting dagger, like we discussed, and the leather and wool pouch/satchel thing too.

She followed behind him, a silent wraith. Sirius' sharp claws clicked softly against the stoned floor, but apart from that he too was silent. This was a natural thing, as much as it was a taught thing - Salvia had inherited her grace as much as she had learned it. Silence was something an individual had to be born with; A skill that could be sharpened, but not produced.

He entered his lair with an air of nonchalance, aware of how mighty and vast it appeared, but also well used to it by now. The high ceiling crumbled in some places, allowing rays of sunlight to pilfer through the mottled chamber and spill across some sections of the floor. Apart from these weathered gaps, the Throne Room was easily one of the most well-preserved in the Ruins; its walls were all intact, an effective barrier against all sound and sight and smell from the world beyond. This was a small world of its own - The world that Sirius retreated to for much-craved solitude and thought.

Towards the rear of the room was the throne itself, a large stone monolith with a high arching back and arm-rests that jutted from the spine. It was solid and thick, carved from the stone itself, and must have been as ancient as the castle, if not even older. His bearcoat was thrown haphazardly across the monolithic seat, used to add comfort where pillows should have been.

Apart from this, and a small wooden chest near to the throne, the room was almost empty. Without looking to his niece Sirius crossed to the chest, and flipped aside the broken lock to open it. For a moment, he rummaged within - The sound of items clinking and scraping against one another rewarded such efforts. Then he stood, and turned back to the girl.

In one hand he held a small bag made of cured hide and wool. It was soft, expertly made, with supple leather, clean white wool and neat, basic stitching. It had been made with the hide of one of Larkspur's beasts, and by the hands of the slavegirl Rowan. Regardless, it was a simple, but efficient object.

In the other hand he held a dagger, something of his own. it was twisted slightly, and the light gilded its keen edge a murderous silver. The hunting dagger was beautiful, as Salvia was beautiful - A weapon, a thing of elegant destruction. Sirius stepped toward the girl with the acidic tiger eyes, and with a solemn expression, held the items out to her.

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