to plant a seed

Eris Eternity · 05-30-2011, 05:53 AM

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Word Count » 522

the world shudders as the worm gets its wings

The faint scent of blood tinged the wind. Salsola always seemed to smell of pine and earth and salt -- wind swept in from the bay and down from the mountains, battering their tiny, water-surrounded enclave. Blood was not an altogether unfamiliar scent, too -- as the pack made their kills and fed themselves, that smell was apparent, too. In time, there would be more of that particular scent -- Eris did not need to be certain of this; she would make it occur, and thus there was not even a question of its certainty. It was a fact, written as if in the past history of the world. Salsola would spill more blood -- they would need to. She would need to see, to protect them, and perhaps sometimes still the dark woman would simply desire death, enjoying its show. Oh, there would be ritual and sorcery around it, certainly, but perhaps she would not need to see. Perhaps they would need nothing of the dying but their death. This pleased her, and it was apparent in her springy step as she made her way from their borders.

Eris spilled blood not out of appeasement as Larkspur might send things up in a cloud of smoke and leave a pile of ashes, but of necessity. There were no gods in the sable hued woman's mind, no one she need pay heed to. Whether they were truly there or not, she would not say -- she would blaspheme them all the same, indifferent to their existence one way or another. When they guided those that were her own, as with Larkspur, she would not bend her own will to the gods of others. Eris would do as she would, and there was but one earthy force to reign her in -- Sirius. Beyond her own will, nothing more yolked her. She was a queen, and it was as such that she stalked beyond her demesne, following that faint scent on their wind. She had been pacing the borders in her four-legged form, dutiful in this one thing she had learned from Inferni and her mother in particular -- patrol the borders.

What little flesh and fur she could see of him was tinged brown, the tawny and earthy hues much unlike her own sable coat. The rest of him was clad in things, adornments -- she gazed upon the things with a mix of wonder and amusement, strange as the dichotomy was. Eris was always interested modifications, but clothing was something she had not been drawn to previously, and something she was yet wary of. Did it not grow hot in summer? Was it not avoirdupois, restricting movement? His looked especially form-fitting, but his movements were easy and natural. She peered at him from afar a moment, noting the weapon on him. Chartreuse-yellow eyes sharply regarded this a moment as she considered, and then Eris began to shift -- her body crunching and crackling, elongating in some places and shrinking in others. In a few moments, the Optime woman stood, issuing a curious wuff for him as she reached her full height.

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