Hallo Salsola. c: Pardon the slightly unsure post- feeling Wisteria out, lol. 4+
The stables were relatively quiet this cool morning, the animals either not yet awake or not interested in moving about much. The chill in the air had little to no affect on Wisteria, her nearly double-thick coat a perfect source of warmth no matter the time of year- and one of the reasons she tended to dislike the summer and southern locales. Too hot, too hot! Salsola, being a Northern pack, however, was nicely situated in just the sort of area she was well-suited for. Similar in climate to that mountain pack in Khalif she had left, but free from the terrors of the dark god. The place where Tak himself resided, the chain of caves and caverns, the dark well of power within their stony depths- so far away now, so much safer for any dark-pelted pups she might spawn or see spawned.
Silently she sat, jack-o-lantern gaze settled lightly upon her once horse. Misty, her stolen bargaining chip, her get away partner, her escape from a life that didn't believe in chances... and in her daughter. How wrong he had been, her Khalif, to call for the death of the young girl without giving her time to redeem herself to Ankh, for her blessedness to show. And now, Odessa was as many shades of the hide as colors in the sky- and one of them was just as brilliantly white as the climbing flower herself was. The peppered mare tossed her creamy mane, eying her once rider with one large, dark eye. Her exile, her ex-mate, her continuous attempts to thwart the births of her children... her failure and the wonderful gift that had come of it. So many memories, and so easily recalled with the mere sight of such a beautiful equine.
Wisteria shook her head, lost in thought, as she considered the animal before her, now property of the entire pack. It was almost amusing how the horse had so quickly lost favor with their fickle leader- as soon as he had acquired a new steed, his black stallion taken by another member so the narcissistic mix could have but one riding animal, he no longer had wish or a want for the mare. Sirius Revlis, the Boss he called himself, was really little more than a glorified spoiled brat- not that she'd ever say that to his face. He was a handsome brat, though, she supposed, and easy enough to flirt with. Brilliant ivory mane fell in thick waves about her slender face, shifting slightly as she raised her head to consider her surroundings.
For all she wasn't fond of the Boss's personality, she was fond of his choice of land.
and Intensity grows
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