With China in her hand

Daenys Sgiathatch · 05-22-2010, 05:13 AM

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The traps had held a pair of fine rabbits, and the woman, dressed in the sun’s vivid colours, had abandoned the servant temporarily as dinner was being prepared and put over the flames borrowed from the greatest god of all. Four legged still, the deviant woman elegantly made her way towards the little stream they had found earlier that same day. It was her underling that was supposed to bring her the clear liquid, but the woman wanted refreshments now and cared little to wait for the slow canine to retrieve anything. There were rules and regulations that once had been so crucial when she had been an official; the youngest blood of the dragon and the being closest to immortality. She could feel the pure soul-fire burn inside her chest. She was still worthy, and so the Great Gods chose to accept her unusual circumstances. Of course, this is all for them.

She was pleasantly surprised that she found the running water instantly. It was clear that her sense of direction was improving. It was dangerous though, as this could very easily be an early sign of weakness within her. She would never have needed intuition or knowledge about survival within the crystal water walls of the royal quarter in the heart of Beijing. It was below her—she had much more important matters to attend to. Always. It was her destiny to rule an entire dynasty, not search for water and meals. Her nose dipped slightly down into the clear water and a tongue started leaping at it moments after. It flushed soothingly down her throat. Refreshed, the woman settled down on her vividly coloured haunches and started to clean out her beautifully smooth fur—another task that the future queen never should have to do.

Mkhai Lykoi · 05-30-2010, 12:55 PM

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         Sitting on the edge of the stream Mkhai cleaned his blades, ensuring the bone-knives were devoid of any blood or decaying matter caught in the intricate designs he’d slowly begun to carve into the handles. They were incomplete, but they were his prize for the time being, belonging to a monster native to a land half a world away that invoked instinctual terror into those of his kind. Tiny and delicate, the smaller canines were easily killed by the African lion, though they were vicious in numbers and audacious to the point of suicide. Jackals were not above defending their scavenged prey from lions and hyenas, though the far more powerful beasts could easily tear them apart within seconds. Now, they were the royalty within Alexandria in the far north of Egypt, having gained the ability to shift into monsters of their own sort, bearing weapons and rocks and bodies built to outsmart and overcome. It would be the lion now that feared the tiny jackal, as the lions once feared the human tribes of the Maasai, learning inherently to fear the tall men in their blood-red robes that walked so elegantly and fearlessly across the savannah.

         Something moved at the edge of his vision, and immediately his head turned—his blade already half raised into a defensive position. But it was nothing more than a young bird—a mangy, mottled gray and black chick with bulging eyes and an awkward, gangly form. It hopped toward him, tilting its head and parting its grotesquely disproportionate beak to utter a series of shrill cheeping sounds. The fearlessness of the bird astounded him, for within an instant he could crush the small animal beneath his hand, shattering its tiny, fragile bones and smearing its entrails across the ground. Either it was too stupid to realize this, or it simply didn’t care. Either way, it hopped closer, peering up at him with beady eyes and parting its mouth to utter another series of peeps. He picked it up, allowing the tiny clawed feet to rest on the palm of his hand and the other to cup its form, ensuring it wouldn’t tumble from his grasp. It looked right back at him, nibbling gently on his finger as though hoping to find some insect hidden there.

         Suddenly, a scent reached his nose and he shoved the bird into his bag without thinking, intending to explore its being later. He removed his bag to keep it from cheeping and giving away his presence before he slunk along the stream, searching for the source. Within minutes he saw a fiery-pelted woman, with peculiar markings that lured his eyes to follow them as though they held a life of their own. Elegant, she held herself in a manner that reminded him of home, and he almost smiled. How long it’d been since he’d seen another not feral and animalistic as those that resided here. “It’s almost like fire. With a coat like that you simply cannot be related to the common trash that frequents this area,” he said aloud, addressing the strange woman.

         He may have been a fallen prince, thrown from his kingdom like a banished heretic, but that didn’t mean that he would hold himself below his standard, simply gawking at the woman from the shadows like a commoner rather than addressing her as an equal—for in his eyes, she was surely that and nothing would convince him otherwise. He held himself tall, his movements fluid and serpentine, eternally elegant with a coy half smiled aimed at the female as he moved closer, allowing himself a better view of the woman.

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Daenys Sgiathatch · 06-07-2010, 02:04 AM

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She was a mere whisper of what she once had been—a fading memory losing its sparkling mystique. Yet when she was rudely interrupted by the shadow coated youth, she could only turn to him and marvel at the oddity she was met with. Blessed purple orbs widened before narrowing suspiciously, but the canine before her was not the shadow of the Unknown, but something concrete and sincere. He was alive and he was one of the savages that infested these wild lands. Yet, she had issues maintaining her stout judgement of the creatures here as she watched the impossible colouration that his eyes held. He had the touch of royalty, though his fur spoke of mediocrity and of the lower castes. It was impossible with one of the three most sacred colours of all. Tianlong has no doubt sent him to her, but he could not possibly be the blood she was searching for.

She had yet to shatter the silence before the youth’s own lips parted and spoke the language most common here. His instant insight impressed the Princess, and her smile confirmed to the world that she was pleased with the youth despite the lack of courtesy and name exchange. Her eyelids fluttered faintly and she let her fiery, marked tail wrap around her slender forelegs. This youth should be honoured. The scent that clung to his ashen pelt held similarities to that of Eris’, and the woman rightly concluded that the red eyed villain-prince was a part of Inferni. ”Hai, born by fire,” the royal woman answered truthfully, smiling her soft smile while silently cherishing the strange intelligence within the other.

”You carry red blood from kurieita—of beauty and strength,” the woman mused, wondering if this oddity she was facing was a sign from the Gods. Crimson was the colour originally carried by Roelong before he had been devoured by the God of the Sun, and already she cherished him. His furcoat was an oddity that she could not decipher though.

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