[aw] your bark will wear thin

Salvia Eternity · 10-13-2012, 10:02 AM

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(502)-excited noises-

There was, without a doubt, a subversive reason for her behavior. Salvia saw fit to push her siblings when she could; she had, shortly before his kidnapping, play-fought with Basilaris so roughly that he had limped for two days. Neither of her parents scolded her for this, nor did her younger brother complain. He was a child raised by strong hands. Certainly, her mother might have spoiled the boy had he remained, and sometimes Salvia wondered if his fate was less cruel out in the world. She wanted to believe him alive, but she was a realist and doubted the Boreas wolves would let that happen. The scar on her breast proved they had no mercy.

Her smile deepened at the mention of Harrow having not ridden recently. Cruelty was not unknown to Salvia, despite her merciful ways of hunting and killing. In a childhood where play was training for survival, games were savage and terrible. Only ruthless beings, like Salvia, would conquer and come to rise above. She was cruel because it enforced her dominance—but she had learned to temper her cruelty with the façade of kindness. It was among the most well-learned lessons Sirius had taught her.

“It might help to reacquaint you with the territory,” Salvia further suggested. You betrayed us, her eyes said. What good was a traitor’s blood? What did it say about her own?

Tarat arrived seconds later, leading both horses. Though Nacht was not saddled, the halter was kept on while he remained in the barn—he was a young horse yet, but a stallion sure enough. Black had already begun trying to shove him around and Nacht was, for the most part, accepting of this. Once his full weight came in, Salvia doubted this would be the case. She took her horse from the slave and left him to deal with Harrow.

With gentle hands Salvia slid off the halter, speaking lowly in German as she did so. The horse had been raised on the language and his finely crafted ears swiveled towards her voice. Salvia had been the dominant leader in his life, and he understood her commands well enough. He remained still as she wove a thick chunk of mane through pale fingers and hoisted herself lightly up onto his back, shifting stance only slightly. Once mounted, Salvia’s body slipped naturally over his black form. They looked suited for each other. She sorely waited the day that Tiger would be able to ride, though she doubted his skinny frame would be as comfortable bareback. Nacht took after his mother in this fashion, and was even better (in Salvia’s opinion) because he was not so wide.

Salvia waited eagerly for Harrow and her body, betraying her, told this to the horse. He snorted and tossed his head, pawed at the ground with one large hoof, and took a tentative step forward. They would be running and while not built for speed, endurance was something the big stallion was more than competent in.

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