Untested waters

Oh man! I forgot Anann knew Liliya. <_< HERP. I'm rather silly? D:

Eris is by Poppz!

The dark woman's wrists itched and itched with the healing scars on them. She had ceased wearing her bandages, and the wounds were still red and raw. She had been able to stop cutting after only a few weeks of the slicing ritual, and her marks would become scars now. She kept them irritated for a few days with salt water and sand from the ocean, sure to slow the healing process and ensure her scars would keep. Now the wounds shone clearly against the fur of her wrists, bare areas that would never again grow fur. She would feel the cold in winter, but these marks were worth such petty prices, in Eris's opinion. These marks ran deeper than cold could penetrate, deeper than bone and flesh and organ and into one's very soul. That was the truth of the Cotona ritual: they marked not only flesh but spirit when they used that black stone knife.

The dark woman was seated in her home, her legs stretched idly across the floor and her back propped against the least stony wall. Still, a small promontory jabbed into her back, and the coal woman was in the process of deciding to move her position when the faint call caught her ears. She perked both coal triangles and cocked her head, looking to Molcaxitl, who stood near the doorway of Eris's home. The sable hybrid had given her no instruction, nor had she dismissed the girl; instead, Eris had simply had the little slave standing there for the better part of the last hour while she idly browsed a book. Occasionally, the dark hybrid might comment to her slave, drawing out some particularly interesting information from her book and sharing it with the coyote, though Eris thought Molcaxitl understood approximately a sixteenth of what Eris told her.

Now, Eris moved to stand and brushed past the girl, murmuring her dismissal with little care. It was Liliya's call that intrigued her, and the sable-hued woman moved quickly toward the river, trotting in her two-legged form. Her winter coat was coming in at long last, and as she walked, tufts and single hairs drifted away from her. She paid them no mind. Molca kept her coat clean enough, but they could not avoid a little winter's shedding, after all. The dark hybrid's stride lengthened as she pulled away from her home, and she broke out into a run, moving quickly. Liliya's call did not seem particularly urgent, but the sable Auxiliary would not have her Family waiting long on her presence.

As the coyote drew nearer, her pace slowed, and she peered upon a monstrously tall, well-built woman, chartreuse eyes sizing the scarred female up quickly. The dark woman offered the briefest of smiles, though her eyes remained hard and cold as a river stone in winter. Yes? the coyote inquired, politely enough. Still, there was a hint of annoyance and perhaps even apprehension at this interruption. She would deliver no less, for she was the Auxiliary; she would come at their beck and call, but perhaps she would not always be smiling pleased about it, either. The stranger was regarded with less affection than Liliya, but Eris assumed (and correctly, although she had yet to discover it) that this was some kind of emissary. Perhaps one of the southern packs -- the novation to the south of Inferni, perhaps?

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