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| Setting | Location | Form | NPCs |
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Location: The Ruins, SL Date: ~9 Sep* (Backdated) Weather: Overcast, cool Time: Morning |
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416
Eris is by Alaine!
The dark woman's world was filled with familiar and returning scents. Harrow had come back to her -- if only the dead could rise so easily. The morose thought was only a passing one, however, for on the whole, Eris's mood had taken a sharp inclination toward near merriment. There was an almost feverish quality to her happiness, as was typical of one in the throes of passion. Perhaps more typical of one in the throes of passion considered wholly good and something almost akin to destiny.
Yet she was still creeping and quiet; she dared not flaunt herself and her Pandemic in the public eye as of yet. She must bide time and wait, as the witch's child had suggested. Though more of what she and her mother said was eaten with a grain of salt since Sirius's departure, the dark-furred woman did believe in their devotion to Salsola, in the least. And truly, it was best for Salsola if they were public. But the time was not yet right, and so Eris continued her ritual slathering of oils and scents, bathing more frequently than she had by far in the deepest slump of darkness.
And she had all the more reason for care and preparedness; her daughter had returned. Though it pained her to do so, the dark-furred woman knew precautions were necessary. Harrow's mind had been tainted by the outside, and though her face had shown love and devotion on her return, Eris had been burned by such before. Salvia might have looked at her in such a way -- she could not clearly recall. There was no anger within Eris, though -- there might have been before, but she had, in her own mind, transcended beyond such pettiness, especially where family was concerned. Her family, anyway -- her mother and all the rest still did not qualify as family to Eris, for they had been effectively disowned.
After having fussed about a meal -- most of the work done by slave hands, for Eris still considered the preparation and cooking of domesticated animals a task beneath her -- and having obtained a carrying bag of her own things, the dark woman set out to find her daughter. She regretted her inability to host the coal-furred woman, but could not have done so for obvious reasons: Pandemic would have required removal, and she knew there was little else for him to do but sulk in one of the half-finished ruins.
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