The Last Supper

Salvia Eternity · 12-27-2011, 04:23 PM

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The ritual was familiar now, and Salvia looked forward to it. More so than the others, she was a primitive beast posing as a house-pet—she was without a doubt a weapon well crafted and well tooled by her leader, even more so than her absentee parents. Larkspur had not yet returned and her mother had proven that Salvia was nothing special to her; Sirius had confirmed this, and his word was law. So it was now, as her dark ears and bright eyes focused on his shape alone, a savage profile filled with eager light.

Salvia all but beamed at her cousin, thrilled at the announcement of her new rank. Odessa had filled a gap left by Wretch, and though they were not terribly close, their blood relation still held weight with the blonde girl. Likewise, she was proud of Liliya. They were all Family here, regardless of how she felt personally about them, and if one prospered than Salsola prospered. It was a simple equation.

It surprised her, though, when her own name rang out into the night. Salvia’s head lifted higher, though it hardly looked as if she was forcing such a thing. As the acidic eyes of her uncle met her own, Salvia lingered an impossible second too long before she dropped her head in a bow of thanks. She would not show such disrespect before the others, though in private she loved the dark man as a second father. Tigress. What an invocative word, she thought, and wondered just what beast carried such a title. I do, she thought sharply, and smiled with daggers.

She did not wait long to eat, and chose meat recognizably made by Mocha. Having been watched over by the coyote woman, Salvia had grown up with familiar spices and preparations and likened them yet. The slaves were no doubt around, and she hoped that her own woman would know her place. Once the Family had eaten, what was left would go to them—Salvia was particularly pleased with the glossy sheen returning to TK’s coat, and intended to see that she (much like Nacht) was a sight to behold. It was not a flattering idea, but for Salvia, the extension of property was reflected on the owner. To have a slave disrespectful or dirty would only show that they were worthless. Certainly, the Korean was far from that—a small scar on her muzzle, though faint against her pale fur, proved such a thing.

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