you and me and the devil makes three.

Eris Eternity · 05-24-2010, 06:14 AM

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Set for May 21 'cause I think that's when the half-moon was. (545 WTF WHERE DID THIS COME FROM)

The night was friendly and familiar to the sable-furred woman. For the first few days she had moved only at night, knowing there would be travel to and from Eterne at all times anyway. After a while of this, she had become accustomed to nocturnal living, though now she kept a slightly more normal schedule. She rarely rose prior to noon, however—the early morning was not a preferred time of day for Eris, and being awake during it made her feel particularly phlegmatic throughout the remainder of the day. The sable-furred she-wolf meandered outside of Inferni's territory confidently, slipping through the burned scar in the earth. She wondered what had caused this. Snake had spoken of a war, one she'd arrived too late for—maybe this was one of its aftereffects. The swath of burned land was not so wide, however, and Eris was within the treeline within a few minutes.

For the first time in a while, she moved at a decent clip. It was perhaps the fastest she'd walked since escaping from her former home. Tonight she had something to look forward to. The silver half-moon shone brightly in the sky, providing just enough light to illuminate the sable-furred woman's path. All of the forest around her was obscured in shadow, but her acute senses of hearing and smell told her she was alone. There was something different about Eris now; she moved with a lightness and alertness she had not possessed the last time she trudged through these forests. It helped that she hadn't had a rough afternoon, either—it had been punctuated by a sort of preparatory nap. She hadn't been tired, but she'd forced herself to sleep nonetheless, meditating herself into unconsciousness to cleanse her mind and rejuvenate her for the evening's activities.

The sable-shaded canine did not know what was in store for this evening, but she had made herself ready. She did not know what to bring, so she had brought everything—everything of any ceremonial value she owned, save two things that were not yet ready for use. There were two bones bleaching out back behind the mansion, tucked away and hidden by the guest house, which Eris had already figured out was rarely, if ever, used. She had considered moving there, but it was not as if the vast mansion was at all crowded; she had yet to even meet most of her neighbors. Added that moving would be a fair amount of work, the sable-furred canine had dismissed the idea as quickly as it had occurred to her. The faint scent of decay led her to the place where she had last seen the sable-furred canine. There was death nearby, rotting away still—she had helped to cause this, and she settled down to the ground, crossing her legs and swinging her pack around to her front. Itzcitla had accompanied her here, but he had split off some distance away, perhaps seeking to hunt. She had no worries for him; he was a smart cat, and he would be able to escape a large canine with the trees to run to. Now there was nothing to do but wait, and Eris fiddled with the strap of the bag anxiously, alive and electric with energy.

Larkspur D'Angelo · 05-26-2010, 01:00 AM

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400+

He had not slept in three days.

At least, he reasoned it had been three days. Canines as a whole are ignorant to the flow of time as humans perceive it. Larkspur watched the sun rise and fall, and was aware that this signified a passing of daylight, but he did not understand it as days, or hours. Unlike the educated and humanized wolves that he so often found himself meeting, he was still a very simple animal. Could he function like a man? Yes, as evidenced by his choice of home and skill with the horse. Yet he was basic in simple ways, and unsure of things that were unnatural. He had not ventured to the city. It was likely he never would.

But now the time had come for him to leave the borders of Dahlia de Mai and return to find the girl. He knew this because of the whispering voice, that constant call that reminded him of his place in the world. Tonight he would do something so few of his family dared—he would look into the face of the ini and hear its voice. He knew this because his bones told him it was time. Without a doubt Larkspur was too stupid to be a priest, to be a leader or a holy figure, but he had been chosen. He was devoted beyond anything else in this world to his task at hand. Misery had appointed it to him, and she would not have done that if she did not believe in him.

The girls scent betrayed her before he spotted her. Above his head the moon hung like the gibbous eye of a dead man, half-lidded and drunken. It cast peculiar shadows from the boughs above them, shadows that would have been different in the moon was full. He did not wish to travel to the ini when the moon was full. That weakened the barrier of the worlds and without a doubt he would have been lost. The things in his world were far more dangerous then he likened to admit.

Orange eyes fell on the scar, the satchel, and ended at the girl’s face. He smiled in that peculiar fashion, a smile that was neither friendly nor cruel. He smiled as if he did not understand what it meant to smile. He smiled because it was a learned habit. His eyes betrayed this; they burned with bizarre and arcane fire stolen from some Halloween ghoul of days long past. “Yer here,” he said, stopping in his tracks and leaving only a few feet between them.

Eris Eternity · 05-26-2010, 07:39 AM

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Word Count :: 590 This sucks, I typed half of it and lost it because I am a durdur and just closed the thing without saving document. Whaaaaaaargarble. x_x

The sable-shaded woman tried her best to quell the anxiousness that had risen up in her; it would not do to be too nervous going into things such as these, whatever Larkspur wished to do over this night. There was too much energy within her, trembling in her calves and the tips of her fingers and all throughout everything. Leaning back into the grass, the coyote mix closed her eyes, drawing her breath slowly into her lungs. There she held it for a few long moments, exhaling it as slowly as she could stand to. She focused her mind on nothing in particular, tuning her senses out and ignoring the noises of the forest and the faint scent of death that permeated this area. If Eris had tried hard enough, perhaps she would have even heard the tireless maggots working the flesh of the white wolf's body, but she did not wish to hear such things at this moment. She wanted for her mind to empty, and in concentrating on nothing she eventually achieved this, drowning the hustle of the world from her consciousness and drawing that energy back and away from her extremities, bottling it down somewhere deep within herself. The sable-furred woman did not wish to lose this spare energy and excitement; she would need it later to pull herself back from the void. For now, though, it was best to keep it tucked away from the forefront, buried somewhere deep within herself for when she needed it.

When Eris opened her eyes once more, Larkspur stood over her, his flame-colored eyes burning into her, an awkward and strange smile plastered to his face. The woman slowly sat up, drawing her chest to her knees, peering up at him still. A smile reflected on her own face, the tips of her pearly canines showing starkly against her fur, just as his own. Her smile was as fake and meaningless as his own, but it was far warmer—perhaps she was simply a better pretender than him. He spoke, and this smile widened almost imperceptibly, becoming a touch more real. “Of course,” she said simply. Her chartreuse-colored eyes focused on the scar next to his eye, the the strange markings across his arms. She did not doubt him now—she had passed this already, and now she was certain there was a certain sort of shadow lurking in this man. It was this thing that she wanted from him more than anything. She turned her attention to her bag, and the first thing she drew from this was her small bowl. It had been carved with intricate designs on the outside, but the inside was smooth and perfect, crafted from the skull of some long-dead human.

Next were the two tiny leather bags, filled with the dried bits of both substances she possessed, the peyotl and the teonanacatl she had plucked on her journey northward from Eterne, when she believed it would not be so long before she found her homeland. She had not remembered how long the journey to Eterne had been, perhaps because she had possessed Astaroth's company for the majority of that journey. These two things she placed into the bowl, staring down at the pair of poisons at the tips of her fingers. There was no denying that these were poisons to the mind, poisons to the body—but some damage to the self could not be helped. Some spiritual pursuits were stronger and far more important than any mortal being, and Eris knew this well.

Table by Jimjamz!!!

Larkspur D'Angelo · 06-08-2010, 10:13 AM

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derpfail

He could not understand why she was so familiar. Why her face reminded him of other things and her eyes were too much like a cat’s. The girl was not likened to Haku, or the dark woman he had met in the winter. She was different for a reason he could not place, as if something was wrong with her blood. Perhaps it was. Though he did not know it, Eris was comprised of nothing less then hatred. She was unwanted, like him.

From a bag she drew tools; useless ritual things that he did not need. Yet he would allow her to do what she intended, to work her magic into herbs that did not smell strongly. The black wolf settled next to his younger companion, sitting in such a way that the white mark on his chest appeared to be more. A great bird, perhaps, or a skull of a bull, something certainly more then the result of bleach or age—something magic. “Who taught y’this?” He asked lowly, admiring the skill of her thin hands.

Eris Eternity · 06-15-2010, 12:55 AM

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These were things that the sable-shaded hybrid had been doing most of her conscious life. There were the months before Eterne, when she was a dumb and blind child, and these more recent months afterward—there was no reason and no opportunity to perform any rituals, there was no reason to perform any magic. The closest she had come was seeing that white wolf, being drawn to her—only to nearly lose her and end up meeting a demon. Eris believed Haku was the reason she had been so enticed with that pale canine; she honestly believed it had been that woman's death to draw them in close with one another. At least, she had until she'd heard that her mother had experienced him first—then there was only a vague sense of bitterness, one that Eris futilely attempted to combat. There was little good and little pride left in her life; whatever she had she wished to cling to.

Her chartreuse-shaded eyes looked to the man and the pallid marking on his chest, her ears twisting to catch the question he asked. “Home. Or what I thought was home,” she said. “Way far south in the desert. Some of us see through blood, bones... some of us just see,” the sable-shaded hybrid said, clearly envious of those few with that particular power. “Anyone can see with these, though,” she explained, indicating the pair of pouches to him. A more realistic smile appeared slowly on her muzzle, and she touched the small bags almost lovingly. “Peyote and psilocybin,” she said, slowly and less certainly than when she said their more familiar names. “Peyotl and teonanacatl.”

Larkspur D'Angelo · 07-04-2010, 11:56 PM

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300+

They spoke only a little more that he could remember; Larkspur did not speak much to anyone. There was a time for words, as with all things, but the time had either not yet come or passed them and either way it did not matter. She drew up magic from the herbs and other tools he scarcely paid attention to. It might have taken her a few minutes, or an hour, but she created something and they shared it. Then, and only then, did Larkspur call to the beast from the earth. His voice spoke the language of the dead and his spirit shifted into something else. Then he saw it.

He had seen the ini before, in terrible nightmares, when he had been on the verge of unconsciousness from beatings, when the lack of sleep made him dizzy. A low whine escaped him. It was frightening, to look down that portal, but he wanted to see what it was on the other side. Tak was on the other side. Tak who even now whispered and called and spoke through the spiders and the can tah because these were his things and so too was Larkspur. And that pink-red portal, that tunnel that would show him all things, was pulling him in. It was drowning him.

The wolf tumbled and fell and screamed out the language of the dead. It must have carried him for he hit the ground, hard. Peyote, my friends, is a wicked mistress. It turns the body and the mind against one another. Larkspur woke on his belly, writhing in a puddle on the edge of the too-blue lake. He tasted mud and perhaps blood in his mouth, and the sun was high in a cloudy sky. The woman, nearby, was not half so wild. She had used the magic before. She had expected such a thing. Yet her voice was high, frantic--green eyes, she said, she had seen them in her vision. This meant something.

Larkspur did not speak of Tak, or the ini. He told her, instead, about the fire. About his own cleansing. She seemed to understand.

They did not speak much at all, though.

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