for the night is dark and full of terrors

Sirius Revlis · 05-23-2012, 01:05 PM

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Forgive me, my love <3 +3

Although a great man, a terrible man, Sirius knew himself to be mortal. So much of his energy was spent denying others of this knowledge that sometimes, in glimpses, he could assume the mental position of a deity. He knew power; Saw it glisten in Salvia's eyes when she looked at him with the undying loyalty of her father. Such dedication could surely only be given to a god. Did that make him something more than his own conceited flesh and bones? Power had warped him from a practical man to a greedy one, as it did with most. He relished the idea of his own infamy, allowing with such pride these new nuances. Siv and her magic, her gods - They were thoughts that did not repulse him as they once had. He knew his own mortality, but detested it, and subconsciously dwelled on ways to be rid of it. This made him vulnerable to her in a way that he could not, and would never, understand.

Unable to resist, eyes traced the curves of the dark woman's body as she moved. It had been some time since he had lain with Clover - That had been before this, before the intruders. He had barely seen the golden-haired girl since; His body had been too occupied with war cravings to lust again for her soft flesh. But with exhaustion came this, too - A desire for feminine softness, for a gentleness to sooth his blemishes and irritations. But, subconsciously, he feared what he could do to the pure maiden, in this current war-lord state - He was not himself, had not the control of his usual self. That made everything dangerous.

Tall, coyote-esque ears lifted to catch her words, and narrowed pupils returned to the fire as the woman delivered her news. In the orange flames, he saw Ezequiel, watched as they fought and writhed together. Black lips twitched up, mirthless. There was no sin, when one was a god - A god of death. "You would have me speak false words to a carving in a tree?" His voice bristled with rudeness, with disregard. He did not believe in her gods, could only believe in himself. It had always been this way. Magic, now - That was another thing. If she could name her magic as gods, then perhaps he would show less restraint in bowing to a power greater than his own. The way to Sirius' heart would always be his pride.

He took from her hands the bowl, eyes grazing her well-exposed bosom as he did so. It was weak, to allow himself such glances, and irritation puckered his brow as gaze darted away again. Black nose sniffed at the contents of the bowl, but he was no apothecary, and did not know the scent of most poisons. Thin pupils returned to her visage, and held it as he took first one shallow sip, and then a few moments later, a deeper one. Warmth began to spread through his chilled veins, and again, the man relaxed. "What enemy has Gabrielson brought to my borders? Foolish git, I should have his head for this," The thought was clearly amusing to Sirius, for the wicked King smirked, before returning to a more solemn expression. "Boreas..." Eyes moved to the flames again, unwilling to see the intensity of her expression. "You know... Things," He stated, with a blunt awkwardness unfamiliar to him. He shrugged it off, uncomfortably. "So, witch, give me counsel. Tell me, what would you have me do to rid us of this vile plague?"

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