the longest night

Siv Helsi · 12-24-2011, 12:11 AM

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A part of her magic was the ability to see and to read people. It was instinctive as much as it was learned. People betrayed themselves in such subtle ways—she had seen it happen a thousand times over now, and knew what signs to look for. Every gesture, every shift in tone, it meant something. Magic was the art of manipulating these. She had done so in the Hearg, and she would do so again to secure her future (and in turn, her daughter’s future) in this strange Thistle Kingdom.

The girl was no different. In her steps was the wariness of a startled doe, in her breath a bird once bitten by a serpent. Siv watched her hand out of the corner of her eye, wondering what it meant to touch that snow-gray throat. She said nothing and asked nothing. As she had with Sirius, a great and dark bird waited behind a mask made of amethyst and slate-brushed shadow. It held aloft and kept talons wide, searching, for there would be a way to capture and command without ever raising a hand against those she sought.

Siv stared at the girl as she settled, but it was not with any true ease. She was jumpy, but yet…

The scent of burning fur broke her reverie and Siv bristled. She was on her feet as the girl cried out, her face twisted into a savage frown but it was not truly aggressive. One hand shot out and grasped the wounded wrist. Though firm, she was not cruel. Siv drew this forth with the strength to fit her size. Thick and pale-streaked hair tumbled abound her as she bent her head and looked for the wound. It was slight; she sighed and leaned back, releasing the girl. “Brush your hand in the grass. If they are cold, sit and place them here,” she demonstrated, lowering her own hands towards the supple triangle formed by her pelvis. “Your body will warm them.”

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