the colors of the mad and the wicked

Eris Eternity · 01-21-2012, 03:13 AM

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This is why I should not post right before going to bed. ;_; /PLAYS OFF AS ERIS BEING CRAZY ERIS, TRIES NOT TO FEEL DUMB ;_; XD

Eris is by Alaine!

The inquiry regarding her home surprised her; Eris was not quite accustomed to receiving questions, herself. Others generally dove for her ploys and were all too eager to discuss themselves; she generally did not need to interrogate others to start them talking about their histories, their past, their aspirations -- them, them, them. Eris was not particularly amused by such conversations, but the dark-hued woman endured them, for they kept her informed and kept her from oversharing regarding Salsola. This man, however, did not seem quite so eager to take the offered bait, and the woman was left slightly flustered, one ear half-cocking as she considered him.

Had she introduced herself already? The coyote's mind scrambled to recall, and could not. Her mind had been faulty as of late, it seemed -- she lost time and space frequently, and the dark-hued woman felt rather like she was transcending planes without realizing it. What other explanation could there be? She frowned, and shook her head quickly, her locks waving with the motion. No, either address is fine. You must excuse me, she said, giving a girlish wave of her hand, both to dismiss the mistake and apologize. What they say about new mothers and mush for brains must be true, unfortunately -- and I am a new mother twice over, it seems, having just acquired an unwanted child. Her smile was broad as she thought of Basilaris and Salvador, curled up together back in her den. Perhaps this was a better explanation -- it was the only one she would offer verbally, in any case.

As for my home... the hybrid said, her frown dissipating into an expression to rival his own -- giving of nothing, it was a facade of stone to cover her inner workings. There are things I may tell you, and things I am forbidden to speak on. You may not have our name, but I can tell you, for example, that we do like our secrets. Her expression had shifted to one of the faintest amusement at this small jape. She need not have told him Salsola prized its secrets -- he might have inferred such himself easily from what she'd told him otherwise. I may not tell you where we are located, but I may tell you our group holds together like blood family -- closer still, I think, she said, her voice now dropped to a whisper. To emphasize this secrecy, she leaned toward him and over Molcaxitl, who stirred just enough to avoid an accidental bump from her mistress. The slave's orange eyes remained focused on the dirt and the hooves of the big gelding, unwilling to meet even the outsider's gaze.

Trader extended his nose again, but did not bump against the stranger; instead, the gelding seemed to be taking in his scent. Now, Eris's voice returned to its usual volume, and the coal-hued Auxiliary straightened back in her saddle, awkward as she felt in it. If you would have a softer existence, one that does not bind you to your pack and hold you to your oath of loyalty -- head south, or perhaps over the mountains. There's a lovely bunch of cave-dwelling wolves to the north, she said, more than willing to usher him along to one of the other packs if Salsola's premise did not interest him. She wished to have those genuinely interested in her Family and its beliefs; those who found them distasteful could make their home elsewhere. She would tell him all she knew of these other packs, even if she did speak of them derisively.

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