Salvia Eternity, 15 December 2010, Luperci wolf, female, I play this dude.
For Kahilli
Salvia had begun to develop intellectually during the previous few weeks of her growth. She grasped the difficult concepts of her families gods, and after the incident with Harlowe, what sickness could lead to and what death looked like. No part of her wanted to ever face such illness again. Even now she was deterring from her mother’s knowledge of herbs and plants, disliking the thought that she might one day have to treat such a terrible thing like Harlowe.
Instead she had begun to linger near the collection of animals that belonged to her father. The sheep were stupid things, but she enjoyed watching them. Larkspur had told her that once she was older that she could start leaning how to handle the animals. She was pleased by this idea. Her still pudgy form was sitting outside of the quickly-made fence that her father had constructed, green-yellow eyes watching the fuzzy animals milling about. Sal was still, finding that the animals were much calmer around her when she was calm.
The ram in particular interested her. He had large horns and was unafraid of her. Though she did not think to challenge him, she watched him with the acute gaze of a hunting animal. One day he would be killed, of this she was certain, but until then she would do her best to learn how to guide the herd from him.
Misery was slowly setting in. Picking up the pieces and moving to new places had become a part of the female that had never wanted to leave Chimera. But Chimera was gone, burned down to wicked, terrible ashes. She had been so tempted to go back but for now she had kept her distance. Seeing the ruins seemed a good way to risk what bit of sanity she could normally hold unto. Misery had snagged a cavern of her own - next to one Tayui, though she hadn't run into the female, she recognized the scent. Sometimes she could only remember fire and flame, but most often her memory was wickedly sharp. Some of those memories are lies."Hush, Damian." Her voice was soft in the quiet of the caves, but there was a note of impatience. Misery wasn't up for his mockery. The smell and sounds of the sheep had drawn her, Misery was fond of watching the lesser beasts mill about and going about their idle business.
A brown leather satchel was slung over her shoulder. The female had brought three such large things with her and when she had woken in the morning she had paid the price for carrying so much. Her right leg had been vicious and alive with pain, and she'd started the morning with a pleasant smoke of marijuana. The buzz had her feeling faintly floaty and serene, and it dulled the pain. She wasn't fond of going through her days buzzed, but the pain could be a living, cruel monster. Just another burden to bear. Misery's sharp eyes picked out the sight of the young pup, and a smile came across her lean face. Salvia. "Good morning, little one." Misery's voice was quiet and careful, she moved slowly to keep from spooking the beasts, navigating with her cane carefully.
Brown eyes stared back at her, and in a small way Salvia was reminded of her father. There was a feral intelligence in otherwise stupid eyes, something she had now recognized was not the same as her mother or the other wolves she had met. The ram bleated as a stranger approached, but Salvia’s eyes remained locked on his own. She would control him one day in this way—the power in animals was capturing the holes in their eyes. While she did not belong to Tak, this was the way he had taught her father, and the way she now found power in lesser beasts.
The spell was broken at the approach of another wolf. Salvia turned her head and the ram bleated and trotted back to his harem. For a moment her eyes retained the doggish stare she used to capture the ram. Her eyes lightened from a much more terrible green to the yellowish hue of her mother, smiling broadly. “Mornin’ oma!” She stood up quickly, large paws bring her closer to the white-furred woman. Though nervous about the strange woman, the sheep quickly returned to milling about and foraging for grass.
The eyes held power. When Tak came to devour a wolf, it was said he captured their eyes. The last sight of a beast damned to that would be blood red. Terrible, gnashing pain would follow. Misery remembered her own pyre, and she remembered feeling Tak's breath on her neck. Her own fighting and struggles and the intervention of her often hated twin had saved her. Ankh had freed her from the pyre. Misery had never understood that, and she'd never gotten much of an answer. But she was thankful. Sometimes she missed her sister, but Misery was used to being left alone. She had her Lark now, and his children. Hopefully she would get to know Eris as well.
Sal was an eager, bright girl. Those were traits Misery was glad for - teaching a disinterested brat was not something she would have patience for. Misery loved her children and grandchildren dearly, but she wasn't above a sharp smack with a thin hand or if truly annoyed, her cane. The nieces and nephews she had gotten from Ahren and Matinee had been quite aware of her cane. "Lark taught you to capture their eyes, huh? Good girl, the eyes hold power." Misery recognized the doggish, primal stare the girl had held. "So what are you doing today besides commanding the wee sheep?"
She would never know the horrors of the pyre. Her father had, and her brother would have been condemned if he had been born in those mountains. Luckily, Larkspur had not told his children of such horrors yet. They had only thus far seen one most-terrible thing, and that was destiny at work. God was cruel. Tak had come up from the earth and destroyed Harlowe with her father’s might. Salvia hoped to never face such a thing again. He had been a monster and forced the hand of a much more terrible god.
Salvia had seen her father’s power and sought to make it her own. “I watched him,” she said evenly, her own lightly accented voice mimicking her father. “He does it to the sheep and his horse.” A child’s explanation based on observation. It did not seem strange to her that one could capture eyes. Not much surprised her after the things she had been taught and the things she had seen.
Her timber body rocked back to look up at the taller woman, smiling toothily. “I dunno. No one was around so I came here. What’re you doin’?”
"Lark's got a gift with creatures. They like him."It was always peculiar to be around puppies. Misery was as small as a luperci got, both in height and her always too thin weight. She had never truly recovered physically from Damian's loss, though she looked better these days. Her angles were not so severe, but she was still thin. Looking down on a creature was always fun, since she spent most of her days looking way up at other werewolves. "Just wandering around. Gettin' to know the lay of the land." The caverns were interesting, even if not the ideal home. Misery had a fairly good idea the place would probably get quite damp, and she knew her joints would hate her for it. But family was there and it was worth it.
"Do you know this place well?" Misery was willing to guess Larkspur might have been a bit protective of his pups. At least she hoped he was. Her own children had never fared well - if she wanted to guess, most were probably dead. The idea of that was painful but she didn't let it so. One hand idly touched the melted cross around her neck, a quiet bit of comfort.
The small girl’s chest swelled with pride at the mention of her father. She looked nothing like either parent, though she had Eris’ eyes. Most of those who had been alive to know her grandfather would have seen the resemblance all too clearly. Salvia knew nothing of the wicked blood she carried, only that she was special because of her parents. Bright-eyed, she trotted right up to her ancient relative and pranced around her feet like a needy cat.
“I know most of it,” she admitted, overjoyed that an adult would take the time to pay attention to her. While her parents did, she had never met any of the other adults on her own before. Having someone as special as Misery paying attention to her made Salvia’s ego rise like the eagle her father wore. “We aren’t allowed t’go to the borders, but I can show you around the mountain. There’s a lot of neat places we can go!”
Misery could only let out a soft laugh at Sal's antics. The girl was utterly adorable, and sweet. And she looks just like him. Damian, forever the inner voice of her darker thoughts. Misery was determined to like, and love the little girl that eagerly pranced about. Her appearance had nothing to do with her personality. Damian had looked like Tak, but he hadn't damned her. Damian had saved her. He should have known better than anyone that looks meant little. But she knew he had his own vendetta's against Salvaged. A lover turned enemy was never a good memory.
"Why don't you show me around? Go a little slow though, kleine blume, your oma is not as fast as she once was." Misery nudged her bad leg with her cane slightly, a rueful grin on her face. Speed had once been the very little wolves only real fighting asset, but Meth had taken that. Misery had adapted though, she found powerful, adoring creatures like Lark to fight her battles. And she loved him for that. Misery fought her wars with quiet words, not weapons. God was with her though, so Misery didn't let her wounds or frailty keep her from a good bit of fighting.
Her oversized paws only made it clear that the girl would one day grow into a beast. She would take after her father and grow broad and powerful. Yet for now she was simply a child that did not know the stigma she carried or the ghost that lived within her. One day she would come to find this truth, but her journey was not yet started. Today she was focused only on doing what she could to please this aging, magical woman.
“Okay!” She yipped, nearly bouncing with joy. Pale feet stumbled over themselves as she turned and began walking towards the path that led to the sea. “There’s a really cool place where you can see the ocean. My daddy won’t take us there yet because he says we’re too small, but I like to look at it.” Salvia continued to talk as she walked, but every time she felt she was getting too far ahead she would circle back, either sniffing at something or simply trailing back to her grandmother.
I thought I had replied to this, zomg. So sorry ;;
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Misery was already coming up with things she could largess to the young girl. Wisdom, nick knacks, all sorts of things. She would teach the girl all she could. In the child the legacy of the D'Angelo's thrived, little Salvia's flesh was her flesh and Larkspur's and it trickled all the way back to the dark one, Tak. Misery loved the girl. "Would you like to hear a story when we get there?" Misery had told Larkspur many stories. The Khalif's bedtime stories were often brutal and full of dark lessons, but they were the stories of their people. The young girl was healthy and bright, she could deal with a scary story or two.
The young girl moved eagerly and brightly and Misery envied her youth. She could remember being able to move so quickly and lightly - even if Salvia was a touch clumsy - but Meth had stolen that on her final mad night. The girl had burned. In the end the devil god always got what he wanted. Meth had been torn between light and dark - but in the end darkness had won. Her little black and white pelt had been a reflection of that - so dark, with tiny flecks of white. Perhaps she could have been good but the loss of Jude had changed her. Misery didn't like thinking of her and Damian's daughter though, so she banished the thought from her mind.
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Salvia’s scope of learning was broad, but she was at the age where her interests were beginning to narrow. She was fascinated by the animals her father owned, and sought one day to control them as he did. She was curious to see if she possessed powers like her mother, but Eris had warned them it might not come until they were older, if at all. Yet for now, she was simply growing and learning things her body already knew—how to hunt, how to listen, how to watch. The pup was learning daily through observation and repetition.
Misery was still an enigma and somewhat of a fantastical idea to her. Larkspur’s story had taught her much, and this woman had echoed his truth and proved to her salvation could come. One day her dark brother could be saved, though how she was not entirely sure. Devotion. Those who turned their back on the gods were punished. Harlowe’s sickly body flashed through her memory and her puppy-hackles rose, but her attention was pulled away from his bloody memory as the pale woman asked her a question.
The girl turned, tail wiggling high in the air. Even now, she walked with dominance in her step. Of the three, she was proving to be the most aggressive in this route. “Yeah! I bet you could tell them even better then daddy!” Larkspur’s odd speech was entirely understandable to his daughter, as evident by her own slight accent, but this mystic woman would likely embellish the lore she was thirsting for.
Misery had always held a certain afflatus for storytelling. Words fell easily from her black lips and she was prone to fantastical embellishments. She'd always loved telling stories to her children, but she had none left to tell stories too. Larkspur was an attentive listener to anything she had to say, but nothing compared to the wide-eyed wonder of a child. It had been too long since she had truly enjoyed that kind of gaze. Misery continued to make her careful way with her cane, but her attention was drawn more towards the story she began to weave.
"This story was told to me long ago by my own Oma, Rose." Misery began slowly, thoughtfully before picking up speed. "In the beginning of time, there were only the three. Gentle Ankh, skilled Rah'khir, and the vengeful Tak. But soon creatures in their own image began to appear. At first all of the wolves were shades of white like Ankh, who gave them life. But as generations came and went, different shades came. Rusty reds, pale creams, and bright silver. Ankh gave those wolves to her sister to rule, and for a time, things were good." A pause, a beat and a breath. "Then from the caverns came wolves in shades of black. They carried can tah's with them, stone idols of the lesser beasts that Tak governed over. Ankh's highest priest, the ghostly white Cross called to his mate, Arrow the highest priestess of Ankh. Together they held ground against the dark dwellers of the caverns. Many hours passed, but in the end, Arrow stood brave and proud above the battlefield. Together with Cross, she had rallied their fellows. They had slaughtered the most vicious of Tak's terrible devils, but at a price. When Arrow turned to look, she saw one white body amongst the mass of blackness. Cross's ghostly fur was no longer brilliant white, but stained a vivid and terrible crimson." Misery's voice swelled with dark emotion and she glanced at Salvia with solemn eyes. "The very moon turned red that night, and in the darkness all around them, they could hear Tak's mocking laughter. They had stood against him, and they had won, but Tak had achieved his ultimate goal. Tak strives to destroy beautiful, holy things. Cross's broken and bleeding body was such a thing. As Arrow ran to him, she screamed and begged in the holy tongue. Any price, she promised. Any price she would pay to have him again." Misery knew well that kind of consuming love. "As she clutched his body to her own, something amazing happened."
One thin hand arched through the air to emphasize her words, and she offered Salvia a gentle grin. "The very darkness of the blood-moon sky was banished. From the night sky brilliant, burning white light burned down. The sounds of laughter were vanquished in a sound of furious pain. Those that tore their eyes from Cross's broken body were greeted by the sight of Tak's dark form fleeing across the sky, chased by Ankh's silvery form. Many arrows flew from her skilled bow and his howls of agony were nearly deafening. But Arrow paid no heed as she held Cross's still body. For her, the Gods didn't matter anymore. While the rest of the Khalif were held by the images in the heavens, she only saw his wounded body. But a gentle voice came out, soft and sweet amongst the fighting. Give my son, unto me, the voice said. And Arrow turned to see the White Lady herself. Ankh upon the earth, Ankh touching down upon the field of battle. Arrow was reluctant but she knew Cross would want to walk with the White Lady above all else. She relinquished her pale lover into the arms of the ghostly Ankh, and witnessed a miracle." Misery's voice was soft now, made gentle by quiet awe, remembering Rose's story. "Ankh breathed life into him once more. The terrible wounds made by the dark wolves disappeared, and Cross drew a ragged breath. Ankh turned to Arrow with sad eyes - 'For this, you must bear the burden of having the dark ones amongst you. But the sons and daughters you bear will forever hold the clan together. They will inherit my virtue and Rah'khir's many talents. It is up to the two of you to lead our people, and the children of your children's children will be blessed with many gifts'. And with those words Ankh turned from the wide-eyed Arrow and slowly breathing Cross to join her sister's hunt of the dark one. Tak escaped as he always did, but they struck a powerful blow that day - and for many generations, there was peace once more. Even though the black wolves began to appear, the descendants of Cross and Arrow did their best to keep the clan pure and safe from Tak, and they saved many dark wolves from his cruel grasp."
The names of old gods spilled from the lips of her grandmother, weaving with them wonder at the world as it had once been. Salvia could imagine the story she heard and saw the characters with faces she knew. Ankh resembled Misery, Rah’khir what she imagined she might one day look like, and Tak was her father without the white-bird mark on his chest. These other names were new, and Cross and Arrow became her pack leaders—for she knew Naniko was all white, and Cross was a warrior like Theodore. Each emotion she felt played across her face, though her eyes remained sharp; she listened and tried to make sense of this story as it was told.
She looked out to the ocean they had reached long ago (it had been around the time the story had begun, as promised) and thought about the tale. The goddesses would always be there to protect their clan from Tak, but they had never stopped him. A shiver rippled through her small form. “My dad said Tak lives in the earth,” she said quietly, recalling Larkspur’s story about their most terrible god. “Does that mean that our home isn’t safe from him?” Fear filled her brilliant eyes as they turned up to the elder she-wolf. Had their pack doomed themselves unwittingly?
The child's fear was real and powerful. Salvia was a bright girl, she knew of God, and she feared him. The child was nothing like the beast she had once been taken by, the beast she so resembled. Tak would have him now, Salvaged Eternity would be suffering until the end of time. She hoped it was painful. Kill her. Damian's whisper was powerful and intoxicating, but she ignored him. This girl would go places. The same touch of destiny that lingered on Larkspur, Misery could swear she felt it on Salvia too. Perhaps it was simply the girl's attentiveness to details and intellect that drew her. Misery had been a bright girl as well, but no one had nurtured her. There had only been scraps and the dozens of black bodies all around. Huddled and desperate for warmth, falling on their dead fellows for food. It had been a cruel life.
"If we were in Khalif, it would be dangerous." Gentle and careful, reaching down to stroke the puppy's head as she had once done before. "The well of the worlds is there. Tak's personal den. While he holds power over the earth...we are very far from his home here. If those caves weren't safe, I'd never have joined. And your father wouldn't settle there either. He will always keep you safe." Larkspur was a good father. Brutal and loving. "But we're safe here, I promise. Tak's terrible bloody eye is far away from here." He could still manifest, but never quite as powerfully as at her home. The well of the world's was there, terrible and dark.
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Misery should explain more about how people get “cleansed”, like the whole having white children = OMG SAVED. Though she should probably save the fire part for a later date haha. XD
The touch of the older woman told Salvia so much—she was loved, she was protected—and reassured her of the power her grandmother held. It settled her nervousness and melted it away as she listened. Khalif, where her father had come from, was where the evil one slept. Salvia did not know the exact location of this place, and she had no desire to see it if the demon-god slept there. Her mind was intelligent, as her father’s had once been, but she was being taught and trained to use such a thing. One day her brilliance would be staggering, despite the feral man that had sired her.
She did not know this, but the girl’s bright eyes focused on the distance as she considered the story. Anathema’s caves were safe, especially with her father and Misery here. She was pleased to hear this. Yet doubt, like the shadows that stretched from the bare trees, slithered up into her heart. “I don’t want my brother to be evil,” she said sadly, not believing him to be such a monster. Pandemic had always been good to her, if only a little rough, but she thrived on his companionship because Wretch was far too whiny. “You turned white, and daddy said he was saved, so Pandemic could be fine too, right?”
mall-caps; }
