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Myrika Tears · 12-01-2011, 01:35 PM

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Myrika is by Kiri!

The stories and warnings were ingrained in her, true enough, but the rust-hued woman was now seeing something entirely different from what she expected. Perhaps it was possible to make a home forever in Inferni. The carcass of the bird was mostly forgotten in her hands, though she now poked at it uncomfortably as Ezekiel spoke, her ears standing half-mast. She was not particularly religious -- she did not remember her father speaking of spirituality too frequently. Her family was consumed with more practical pursuits, and in childhood, Myri hadn't stuck around when adults started talking about such things in her vicinity. Still, talk of demons was unsettling, and the woman did not like the sound of war. It was not the first she'd heard of it, though.

I believe you, she said, nodding toward the book. I collected the stories of war from K -- our grandmother, she said, hesitating and nearly saying the woman's name rather than her title. She supposed either was correct, but something felt right in reaffirming their shared blood. I don't think Inferni was the primary aggressor, she said, rolling a shoulder. Of course, her version of the clan's history was skewed and told from its own perspective -- there was no neutral perspective from for the rusty woman to seek. The coyote reached for the unfinished book, offering toward Ezekiel. Still working on it, the woman said, her voice rather quiet.

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