Word Count :: 590 This sucks, I typed half of it and lost it because I am a durdur and just closed the thing without saving document. Whaaaaaaargarble. x_x
The sable-shaded woman tried her best to quell the anxiousness that had risen up in her; it would not do to be too nervous going into things such as these, whatever Larkspur wished to do over this night. There was too much energy within her, trembling in her calves and the tips of her fingers and all throughout everything. Leaning back into the grass, the coyote mix closed her eyes, drawing her breath slowly into her lungs. There she held it for a few long moments, exhaling it as slowly as she could stand to. She focused her mind on nothing in particular, tuning her senses out and ignoring the noises of the forest and the faint scent of death that permeated this area. If Eris had tried hard enough, perhaps she would have even heard the tireless maggots working the flesh of the white wolf's body, but she did not wish to hear such things at this moment. She wanted for her mind to empty, and in concentrating on nothing she eventually achieved this, drowning the hustle of the world from her consciousness and drawing that energy back and away from her extremities, bottling it down somewhere deep within herself. The sable-furred woman did not wish to lose this spare energy and excitement; she would need it later to pull herself back from the void. For now, though, it was best to keep it tucked away from the forefront, buried somewhere deep within herself for when she needed it.
When Eris opened her eyes once more, Larkspur stood over her, his flame-colored eyes burning into her, an awkward and strange smile plastered to his face. The woman slowly sat up, drawing her chest to her knees, peering up at him still. A smile reflected on her own face, the tips of her pearly canines showing starkly against her fur, just as his own. Her smile was as fake and meaningless as his own, but it was far warmer—perhaps she was simply a better pretender than him. He spoke, and this smile widened almost imperceptibly, becoming a touch more real. “Of course,” she said simply. Her chartreuse-colored eyes focused on the scar next to his eye, the the strange markings across his arms. She did not doubt him now—she had passed this already, and now she was certain there was a certain sort of shadow lurking in this man. It was this thing that she wanted from him more than anything. She turned her attention to her bag, and the first thing she drew from this was her small bowl. It had been carved with intricate designs on the outside, but the inside was smooth and perfect, crafted from the skull of some long-dead human.
Next were the two tiny leather bags, filled with the dried bits of both substances she possessed, the peyotl and the teonanacatl she had plucked on her journey northward from Eterne, when she believed it would not be so long before she found her homeland. She had not remembered how long the journey to Eterne had been, perhaps because she had possessed Astaroth's company for the majority of that journey. These two things she placed into the bowl, staring down at the pair of poisons at the tips of her fingers. There was no denying that these were poisons to the mind, poisons to the body—but some damage to the self could not be helped. Some spiritual pursuits were stronger and far more important than any mortal being, and Eris knew this well.
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