for the night is dark and full of terrors

Siv Helsi · 05-02-2012, 01:18 PM

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There were signs all around them, if one bothered to look. Since the death of the Arbiter, it was apparent that Eris was slowly, gently, breaking. It was a most terrible thing to see, but oh, she saw all. Even now, while the mad King stood before her, she saw the signs of fatigue in his body and in his face. Another might have overlooked it or ignored it for posterity’s sake—Siv was not that person. She was a product of her culture and of her upbringing.

A smile cut across her face, slow forming and gentle. “My Lord,” she crooned. “Come inside, so you might sit. I would not ask my King to stand outside like a common man.” Before he had time to object she had taken a step back, turned, and moved towards the hut. It was constructed of strong wood and leather, forming a large circle by its design. The flap was decorated by a singular design, well-oiled and cared for. She held it back upon entering so he might follow.

The inside of the yurt was expansive. Its floor was bare earth, long since compacted from those living within, but clean. This was marked by a central fire-pit below an opening, circled by large stones. Since taken to living alone, Siv’s sleeping area was exposed from a hanging cloth ragged and nearly transparent. A well-made wooden bed, gifted to her by a fellow Salsolan, was the pride of her room. It was packed high by leather and soft materials, by well-tanned hides still lined with plush fur for winter.

Her focus fell to one of the large stones. They had been carefully chosen and arraigned to form a circle around the flames, and while only four existed, it was enough. A dark hand gestured for him to sit. “Would you like anything, My Lord?”

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