[M] painted sun in abstract.
#11
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(304)

Though she had seen him more times than she could count, the sable-shaded hybrid did not know him. He was a ghost and a stranger, more an enigma than her mother ever was. Unknown as the man was, there was no fear within the coal-hued woman. He could not harm her flesh and blood body, and her spirit was too strong for even that particular ghost to penetrate. There was no sense of malignancy in him, either -- the dark woman did not think this shade of him wished her ill, though there was no smile and no friendliness on that face. It flickered now and again, the vision shifting and whirling in time with the thud and rhythm of the world around her. Everything had become part of a single, all-encompassing beat -- the fire, her heart, the heart of Salvia, buried somewhere in that illusion of her father.

Her fingers lingered on empty air, and the illusion and Salvia both were gone in an instant, whirling on her heels and vanishing. Her footsteps pounded in time with Eris's heart, but the sound of them disappeared quickly, and the coal-dark wolf was left alone with her dying fire and the eviscerated rabbit. Quiet as the world had become, Eris listened nonetheless and heard the voices, the faint whispers of the other world. Her eyes drew halfway to closing, and she could see them there, the faint and muddled shadows dashing about the periphery of her vision. Some rushed after her daughter, others remained clustered about Eris herself, but the sable woman did nothing but tuck away her cloak and mask to their proper place, returning to sit before the dying embers of the fire. Whatever Salvia faced, she faced it alone tonight -- Eris's presence would do nothing but harm.

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