[aw] your bark will wear thin

Salvia Eternity · 09-25-2012, 09:47 AM

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Love had once been a familiar concept to her. Salvia had loved her family long ago, before her Uncle had confirmed all her childhood fears of replacement. In this fear of ostracism she had rebelled and thus grown frigid, unwilling to allow herself the possibility of being harmed. Her father had betrayed her in his death. Sirius had betrayed her in his own flight. Her own mother had long ago become something strange to her, a woman that was but was not somehow greater and lesser than her all at once. If her mother had been wounded, or aged poorly, or even died, it would have been easier. It was easier now to think of Wretch because to Salvia, the girl was no longer her sister. She was a stranger. She was an Outsider.

Harrow too, had slid into this role when she had vanished. Salsola’s teachings were merciless and only Eris had sought to disobey them, forgiving her daughter. Salvia found she could not. There was much about the outside world that settled ill with her. Every single time she had gone looking for something to prove it otherwise, she succumb to base needs. Food, sex, murder—she had stopped separating her need for these in such a monstrous fashion that the truth of it was still very much overlooked.

“I’ve been riding since before you were born,” Salvia informed her sister haughtily, and began to lead the mare to the open stockade. “Father taught me.” She wondered, vaguely, if that might wound the girl. Larkspur had been better prepared for children when her sisters had come around, but he had duties as well, and he was not the same man who had raised Salvia and Pandemic. They had been old enough to transition between children and friend, and thus given more ample time to learn about the man as opposed to knowing him only as provided and disciplinarian.

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