Her simple acceptance mad him pause, hunting for irony or sadism within her large dark eyes. They showed none, but perhaps there were many things such cavernous portals did not show. Allowing for her sincerity, Sirius experienced a bizarre flash of pleasure at the thought that some other might crave, or enjoy, natural hardship as he did. Existence was dissimilar to laziness, and such a layabout lifestyle as some eked out in milder temperatures sat ill on the mind of the Thistle King. His kind, the dark and craven kind, sought more than simple gluttony, or the mediocre pleasures of a man who knew no more than his easy wealth. His blood, the blood of a mad prince and an old line of kings, craved power beyond all else - But power could be found in the mastery of elements, the braving of a challenge born of seasonal bounty and famine. Such hardships reminded Sirius of the taste of his own survival, and urged him constantly to that point of higher power.
The exotic woman's latter statement was food for thought, and he mulled with an outward lackadaisical facade belied by the wicked sharpness of his luminous eyes and narrowed pupils. If she sought an end to monotony, he could provide it. Salsola was never predictable. But although the woman seemed compliant, his offer of welcome to the Kingdom of Thistle was never given on such a light whim, not while suspicion still made keen his eyes and sharp his tooth and claw. Unlike Eris, Sirius recruited very rarely, and if so, for good (or greedy) reason.
It was her final comment that aroused his true interest. The stranger seemed to have a knowledge of the manner of their kind. It was an unusual theory to voice aloud, but not one that he dismissed, for the more her considered, the more logical her observation became. "I can see how that might be so," A salmon tongue ran over sharp jaws, cleansing the mechanisms there of bits and pieces that remained, "The lazy man breeds discontent. I find that it is when we have the energy to think most deeply, and see furthest into ourselves, that we become most dissatisfied," It was a symptom he experienced frequently, and one of the reasons he had journeyed this day, to ride and hunt. Filling primal urges was satisfying, on the most basic of levels.
His dilated pupils gazed, unconcealed, for Sirius' arrogance was such that he deemed his stare appropriate. It did not occur to him that he ignorance of his position of utter power potentially lessened him, in her eyes, to an equal. Within himself, such dominance could not entirely be hidden beneath the mask of a mere traveler. Having finished his portion of the hare, Sirius paused in cleaning his hands with his tongue to speak, in a deep and sinuous and caramel voice that oozed the temptation of his trade. "Perhaps your sedentary life bores you. Perhaps you are a woman of the North, at heart." It was said lightly, but the charm to his voice and the flash of his acidic eyes insinuated, once more, something more sinister.
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]