WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
Form
Info
Date: 20 Nov (f-dated)
Time: Sunset
Words: 851
Borgata Tenzontli
You can still jump in here, if you haven't yet! Also: NO POST ORDER!
All welcome for as many Salsolians that wish to come. c: Non-mandatory, but I'll throw it as up a sticky to attract a bit of attention. You can assume your character has been watching since Eris dragged him out here, or they showed up at some point to watch, or they show up in your post. Whatev. C:
Basically, Eris is stringing this guy up for good fortune in winter, and reacting to Tlantli's demotion -- publicly, it's been explained as inability to perform her duties following the illness that kept her out of the previous Last Supper thread. That's older news. Right now, Eris is trying to ascertain whether they need another Crone right now, and trying to see if there's anyone who would be best for the job by prodding at someone's liver. Also, she is wearing her witchy get-up. HOORAH.
It's a captured Loner, a trespasser -- just a scrawny tawny wolf, pretty young. If anyone wants to play them as Preybot, shoot me a PM. c; 25 points for that, broskis. Also: I was non-specific about how Eris caught the Loner... if anyone wants to play that out as a thread or something, foredated to this one, that's cool, too. Lemme know! If not, we can assume Miqui was a badass and caught the Loner. -shrug- 8B
Joining this thread alone could be worth 15 points -- if at least 3 people join, that is. At first it's only 5 points -- complete a thread featuring culture -- but if three people join, it qualifies for the 10 points -- non-mandatory pack activity thread. C:
NPCing Miqui and Molcaxitl (she'll be leaving before the sacrifice). ALSO: the paste Molca is serving is made with mushrooms (not a heavy dose, just enough to blur the edges~). It's not mandatory to consume, and Molca will quietly inform your character before serving it to them. <3 Bambino ranks aren't permitted to consume the paste. >:o
/longest OOC ever
Eris is by Alaine!
The sharp scent of blood hung upon the air, masking the usually salty-sweet scent of her pack. Eris did not mind this smell; she had never minded this smell. It was the scent of life itself, after all. Pulsing, bleeding, throbbing, crying life. This one's cries had ceased some time ago, when she'd cut his tongue out, cauterizing the wound with the heated blade of a metal knife. There had been a lot of blood then, and that was when the sable hybrid thought it prudent to ask Miqui, ever-so-politely, to hold her cloak back and away from the blood. She did not wish to take it off; the cloak and the skull were symbols of her power, and very possibly endowed her with further power. The bear had been powerful, and the many pale foxes of her coat had been powerful, too. Surely, she then wore these things to derive their power.
At the moment, however, her mind was blissfully empty of thought and contemplation. She busied herself preparing to send this scrawny thing into the next world. It wasn't an ideal sacrifice -- the pale wolf was already winter-thin. If he had lived to see the cold season, he would have walked the razor edge of death anyway. Eris nonetheless had seen something in him, some faint reflection in his eyes, or perhaps some shifting shadow he cast. He'd been brought to her already partially carried toward death, sustaining some wounds. They had muttered some words about his trespassing, and the sable-hued hybrid barely heard her family, captivated by whatever it was that drew her to sacrifices, time and time again.
Bloody hours stretched since that moment, when Eris requested the Loner as her own. She had brought the expertly tied wolf to the Borgata Tenzontli, that northern corner of their territory, where where the rocks jutted from the earth. There was one particular flat rock she was fond of, one she'd seen even before Salsola's foundation. Miqui was with her, but Eris was no longer certain whether the coyote hybrid had been the one to bring the Loner to her or if he simply showed up at some point, drawn by the commotion and the scent of blood. Molcaxitl, too -- she stood to the side, clutching a bowl Eris faintly recognized as her own property.
It was the sight of that bowl that drew the sable hybrid away from the cutting. She had sliced two spirals into each of his arms to make him pure, as she had been made pure. He would see the afterlife soon, though, and they would not heal; they would never clarify his vision as her own scar had. Brilliant red ran down the wolf's arms, staining them rusty and bright crimson. The Auxiliary hadn't spoken in what felt like hours; it had taken all her concentration not to plunge the knife into his belly and carve out his innards, to take what she really wanted of him. She generally did not taunt those she sacrificed, in any case -- there hadn't been any need with this one.
The dark woman straightened, the knife trembling as her chartreuse eyes locked with the wolf's pale belly. It was splashed and streaked with red, no longer the almost-white it had been at first. His liver would pay the price for good winter, soon enough, and she would see whether it held the answer to the question of a new Crone. She did not know whether they needed one, and she lamented the loss of Tlantli in the rank. If there was another in the pack, she would have them, if all read well in this one's entrails and innards.
She turned and stepped toward Molca, away from the bleeding wolf. His head hung loosely, his chin against his chest. He had fallen unconscious at some point, and she hadn't realized it. The Auxiliary lifted one hand and stuck it into the bowl, drawing out a thick paste. She held it to Molca, who placed a tiny button and twisted stem into the center of the paste. There was already ground mushroom in the paste itself and this was all the other attendees would partake of, but Eris was to perform the ceremony -- she had to make sure her vision was eagle-sharp.
Eris brushed all of it against her tongue, swallowed, and licked her fingers clean. It smelled faintly of mint and carried the same taste, but was otherwise tasteless. Primarily, she tasted blood -- the loner's blood. She nodded to the coyote slave, and the woman moved off to offer the dish to each attending adult. Eris turned back toward the sacrifice, a faraway smile on her face. She was faintly aware of the cloak rustling at her back as Miqui loosed one hand to partake of the paste. She turned toward the gathered parties of Salsola, chartreuse eyes searching. Perhaps she would speak. There was time yet before the paste worked its magic and helped them see.
Although her tongue sat still, Clover’s heart could not. Pale straw eyes looked on as the Auxiliary prepared for her ritual, but the Lykoi girl could not do a thing but silently watch. The commotion of the loner’s capture had first caught the attention of the heart-faced girl and from then she had become part of the audience that had gathered about their sable leader.
She didn’t understand everything that she was witnessing, but Clover knew it was all for the sake of their Salsolan family. Still, the blood made her stomach somersault. The strong aversion to violence that had been instilled in her since her childhood was still largely present, and yet the girl could not bring herself to leave. Just as she had witnessed the violence of war while she lived amongst her family of Inferni, she would witness the gore of this sacrifice with her family of Salsola. The world was not always a pretty place, despite Clover’s preference to believe so.
When Molca paused before her, pale yellow fell to the bowl that had been held out to her. Just as Eris had done, Clover dipped slender fingers into the bowl and brought the paste to her own tongue. The hint of mint was apparent and Clover believed she knew of its other potent ingredient. When her fingers had been licked clean of the paste, the coyote slave moved on.
Clover turned her gaze back upon the Auxiliary and the blood soiled Loner. For now her vision had not changed, but as time went and as more blood was spilt, perhaps Clover would then see this sacrifice as Eris did.
Magnolia had, like the others, joined the group when the commotion had alerted her to what was going on. She had turned a blind eye towards most horrific goings-on in the pack, but it was Eris who had caught her eye. Her beloved Auxiliary was dressed up in something truly magnificent and unusual that Maggie had never seen before. Eris was on another planet; so far removed from reality, focused on the task, that Maggie could only stop and stare in wonder at the woman.
The capture had been strung up and tarnished with his own blood. Maggie wasn’t happy to admit it but she felt desensitized to this now. Her own killing and the weird culture here…. None of that fazed her anymore. Jade eyes followed charcoal hands as her superior continued working. Another lady to her left had joined the group when Maggie did; she knew it was prudent to stay silent, so instead of speaking she gave a pleasant nod to the other woman. She was a coyote, and a new recruit, but that was all Maggie could tell so far. She was also quite pretty. Magnolia let whatever jealousy was building up in her belly leave quickly before she made a big stink in her mind about it. Now was time for watching Eris and this sacrifice, not thinking about petty female problems she had.
The slave handed her some paste as well, which the Family member ate without hesitation. It tasted weird and it was hard to swallow but the wolf didn’t let the nuisance show on her face. She took the substance out of loyalty; she wasn’t sure what it was going to do, but if Eris deemed it necessary, she would do anything the darker lady wished.
5+ for culture, 10+ for non mandatory pack thread~
Word Count → 000
Odessa had entered the small group quietly, curious to find out what was at hand. She had been watching for some time, even before she understood fully what the situation was. From some way away, she had spotted her aunt in her spiritual get-up, dragging something behind her. At first she assumed it was one of her cousins or one of the slaves, but as the scene moved closer she saw a stranger. Quickly finishing her task off, shabbily perhaps, she scurried off.
The loner was pretty young, though by time Eris has finished her work Odessa was unable to tell if he had been older or younger than her. Older, she assumed, considering her years were only at their dawn. She moved subconsiously now, draw by the bloody smell, her head tilited in curiosity. It was some spectical, the colours and the smells together. And if her aunt had not been decked in the various pelts or her cloaks, it wouldn't have taken much away from the act. But as it was currently present, it did nothing but add to the spectical.
Odessa didn't know what the paste was. But out of politeness, intrest and dedication to Salsola, she scooped up a load with her two fingers and licked it off delicatly. While she wasn't accustomed to the taste she supposed she enjoyed it.
This world of magic and ritual was one that Salvia did not belong to. She was too primal, too savage for such a thing. She feared it, in her heart, and knew her mother (and by some extension, her father) held great power there. It had been Eris that had first turned her into a tiger amongst fawns, and Eris who had stood by while her daughter fled, screaming, into the night.
Yet she stood here now, and she had watched with the same attentiveness expected of the others. Being the daughter of the woman cloaked in dead beasts did not mean anything now. Green eyes focused on her mother, knowing the tale of the bear she wore, imagining that there were more when it came to the fox hides. Salvia wore nothing. She did not know if she ever would.
The slave approached with a bowl, and having seen what her mother ingested, Salvia hesitated. She had gone to that terrible world before, and it had driven her to try and kill her sister. She took a small amount and ate it without pleasure. With the scent of blood filling her world, Salvia closed her eyes and breathed out into the cold air.
Broken glass is luxury; Friendly fires are alchemy
Those of the family that were gathered about mattered nothing to him. Or at least he found none of them to be important enough for him to recall names. Or actually to have ever found out names. They were below him and that was the only thing that mattered. And as he had done on numerous occasions before the small male showed that he thought himself above the others, above the rules. While the other members in the Family stood around at a distance and just watched Bastion had moved close in order to try and partake within the actions. Actually he didn't eve care to help out as his mind was focused on something else entirely.
He has denied the paste when it was offered but had placed his fingers into the blood that had been spilled one the ground instead. His addiction to the shed plasma prevented him from paying any attention to what was going on about him. His back was turned to the gathering as he sat upon his knees and poked at the wounds of the captured with his fingers. So what if he shouldn't be doing this? The thought had never crossed his mind.
And why should it when more often than not his whims were given into? At each supper he had a special made meal that only he partook of. So he saw this to be the exact same way. Eris knew well enough of his addiction and how it fueled his belief and she often fed into it. Because of that he felt he had a right to the shed blood so that he could enhance his own being. And if that wasn't daring enough then he had actually reached for the removed tongue and picked it up though he at least paused to check with Eris to see if he could have it. The small male gave a quiet whine, demanding the attention of the Auxiliary as he held up the muscle in silent questioning.
Althought this was a very odd time to go hunting, Xochime had no other choice. The cold was such that she could not be without food for too long, but at the same time, going out to the cold, as unprotected as she was, was like hell to her. Now, she had gotten too far from the ruins, for the smell of blood reached her hungry nose. But this smell did not make her run after it, but cringe. The smell was that of canine blood. Her instinct told her to flee, but the mix of other smells made her move forward, following the trail that other's had recently left as they approached the source of it.
She made sure to enter the crowd on two legs. And, as she stepped on the circle of Salsolians, she found herself before the macabre display of a knocked-out, bloody wolf laying before the Queen. Her scarlet eyes opened as plates, but she recognized the clothing that her Lady wore, which she only did when she performed a ritual. She was performing some kind of ritual then, she realized as she moved forward to join her packmates on that gory show. She was barely aware of the identities of those around her, rather focusing on the red dripping from the altar. She was already shaky and hunched, trying to prevent the cold from reaching her soft spots, but when she gazed at the grayish form nearing the sacrifice and poking at its open wounds, she had close her eyes and swallow, feeling how fear clung to her innards as hooks. She felt lucky that Eris was there, and that she had removed the frozen slave ring before leaving the ruins for her hunting party.
Fearing she would call for Bastion's attention if she stared so intently at him, she sliped her gaze to the brown paste offered to her. A bitter scent reached her nostrils as she stared at it, the owner of the tawny hands holding it expecting her response. She knew the effects of this substance, but she ate it anyways, licking her fingers clean after she did so. The taste was not bad, but she still felt a bit wary of what would happen next, as their Queen hovered over the stranger's body, devoid of life and close to its inminent end.
(581)
I am only replying to keep it moving along! Still welcome to reply, and there's no thread order. :3
Eris is by Alaine! Note: witchy get-up worn only when specified.
The scent of blood was thick on the air, and it clung to her fingers, sticky and red. The coyote could hear nothing at first -- the world was silent, but for the occasional choking, gargling sort of sound from the pending sacrifice. These were the only noises he was capable of making anymore, she assumed -- the stump of his tongue had been cast aside, a useless and dead part, no longer essential to him. He did not need to speak to help the rest of them see. The dark coyote still contemplated whether she wished to speak. There were things to say -- there were always things to say, after all -- but she did not know if speaking would provide strength or weakness.
Salsola had no prayers to utter, and Eris herself considered them empty gestures, in any case. Respect might have been beaten into her with the loss of Solanaceae and Shibboleth's illness, but she did not worship. She would never worship -- this one's strength and power would serve no deity, no god -- his strength would serve Salsola and Salsola alone. The coyote lifted her head, listening. Now, ever-so-faintly, she could hear breathing. Her senses were sharpening, and the faintest effects of the mushroom began to blossom within her, awakening the dull and blind parts of her with painful slowness. She ached for her eyes and mind to fly open with the speed of a flung-open door, but there was no rushing the magic, after all.
The dark woman turned to her pack and their gaze. Some eyes were curious, some carried a clear hint of distaste for the blood. There was a scuffling, whining sound beside her, and Bastion was at the man, turning toward her with the piece she'd cleaved from this one. The hybrid watched him a moment, then stepped forward toward him, laying a gentle hand against his shoulder and nodding. The push back toward the crowd was both subtle and gentle, but it insisted he return to the gathered pack and let the sacrifice be, too. She did not know if there was truth in his blood magic, true enough, but she could not risk him sapping all the man's strength, either.
The edges of the world were beginning to grow softer, her vision taking on both strange sharpness and haziness at once. She shifted her gaze, and the motion seemed to slow. She could see the brilliant, shining halo of her Salsola -- each individual aura seemed to merge with its neighbor, and the glow was very nearly difficult to look at, shining at brighter and faster as the moments ticked by. She inhaled, and spoke.
My children. The words were spoken with loving adoration, quietly muttered to the assembled crowd. A slow smile stuck to her coal muzzle, though her face hardened again as she continued speaking. This one came onto your territory -- here she gestured back at the bleeding wolf, the movement sharp and angry -- and he would have threatened your safety. He came past our borders and violated our privacy, she continued, her voice acquiring a queer hiss. There was still faint anger in her -- this one had committed a transgression against Salsola, after all -- but she cared primarily about his power now, and giving it over to her pack. His blood will stain our earth red, and his strength will become our own, she finished. That was all -- short, simple, and utterly to the point.
He had been summoned, as they all had been summoned, to this place where the ocean wind tore mercilessly through their pelts and the scent of blood hung, a heavy demon, over the land. Giants teeth jutted up from a cold and harsh earth, stones so large and misshapen that some almost appeared to be grotesque luperci themselves - gnarled and bent, sharp and cold and dead.
Unlike the others, the dark man was king of this land. He owned it, as it owned him, and its very pulse beat within his wicked and reptilian heart. This land was his cold blood, his power, the very source of his thorny crown - He had known as much since the moment that he and Eris had come here, so many moons ago.
But, for the first time, Sirius recognized that he held no power in this small section of his territory. For this twisted, rocky place belonged to the spirits - It was Eris', and she had claimed it without a voice. The flat stone on which the body of the stranger, the young wolf condemned to death by his Auxiliary's gentle hands, was Eris' thing; An extension of her body. He did not doubt that she felt this place as he did; Powerful. So powerful.
Thus, for once, he remained in the background - A hidden shadow, a dark form that rustled like the wings of ravens. If the other pack members saw him, his dark form still and brooding from the boulders that surrounded them, they made no motion to show it. Even if they had, Sirius would not have cared. He had eyes for her, only - The Eternity woman, her generous form a dark and sumptuous ebony between the folds of her ivory cloak. He had hunted those foxes for her - watched the light fade from their eyes as he had taken care to snap their necks, so as not to sully their lovely pelts. So, too, had he killed the bear through whose eyesockets her otherworldly eyes looked - Perhaps through its skull she could see, like windows, to a world beyond this one.
It was for this reason that Sirius evoked none of his power here; For the spirits, or whatever deep and terrible and wonderful magic she harnessed, were not his to command. They never would be. Deep within, locked beneath the layers of his arrogance and pride, and his dangerous intellect - Deep down, where the Hunter strained against his chains, the beast that howled to be free from such favored civility - was the little truth; That he feared this kind of power. Sirius believed in no god, in the sacred word of no deity. He was a man made of flesh and blood, a creature that lived by his own laws, and sometimes not even these. But nor did he dare disbelieve, for Eris held power here, and when she spoke her voice resonated with something otherworldly, something more wicked than even his mind could comprehend.
He remained only long enough for that - To hear her speak. And her voice filled him with such trepidation that he could linger no longer, and faded like a wraith between the boulders and pillars of stone. Be gone from here, Thistle King, hissed the wind on the nape of his neck. This is a sacred place, a place where your power holds no sway.
Word Count → 514 :: j is late late. meant to post to this earlier. >.>'
There is a hell, believe me I've seen it, there is a heaven let's keep it a secret
She was late, she knew she was, but that did not stop her from arriving. She was hooded, and her pet hung from her furry chest hair, trilling at her and twitching it's ears under the cloak that warmed her fur and her pet. She walked with her head down, her pink nose the only thing that could be seen as she walked along with her hands on her chest. She had been summoned earlier, yet she did not make it until now because she had been bathing herself of the blood that had stained her fur. Now she was wet and cold, and her trail had left a wet trail along as she walked. She knew no one in Salsola besides the woman whom had accepted her, so seeing all these new faces made her slightly uncomfortable, but it did not show on her face, nor in her gait. The girl stood tall once she had arrived and picked her spot, and she had gotten there just as Eris had spoken, the blood of the disgusting being already spilled. Daisuke had obviously followed behind his master, his body in it's secui form, and the newly pierced septum hurting. His tail was kept low as was his head.
A slave had approached Esme and offered a bowl in which there was a paste. Esme did not know what it was but she took some and licked the paste from her fingers. She didn't think it tasted all that great but she was not dramatic about the taste. She looked at Eris as the woman spoke though, and she listened with great intensity. Her eyes looked then upon the many faces that were here today, and she had caught the sight of a man, a chocolate king whom did not speak, nor did he stay for too long. Esme found herself wanting to follow the king to wherever he may be retreating to, but something also told her that her time would come to meet the chocolate male, so she stayed here, and looked at the other people. There were a few gray individuals, and she groaned lightly in disgust as she had taken a hand under her cloak and she pet her bat. She trilled at it before she had started to feel the effects of the paste she had eaten because of her lightweight body. Everything was brighter, and she got shivers up her spine in excitement. Things started to pulse in her eyes and it made her cock her head to the right as she had moved closer to the body of the dead being. She avoided getting too close though because that brown male was still sitting there, with the tongue of the corpse in his hand. Her eyes narrowed at the being but the Princess did not utter a word, instead she just stood there, waiting for him to get the fuck out of the way. You wouldn't believe how hard it was for her to not tell him to get out of the way.
Broken glass is luxury; Friendly fires are alchemy
Bastion knew that he was above all those that were gathered amongst the crowd and his favor within the leadership showed. He had been given exactly what it was that he had wanted. He had been allowed near the sacrifice while everyone else remained at bay. Even the urging of him to step away was the slightest and subtlest of movements that there wasn't a reason for the crowd to notice it. Instead it was more like Bastion had claimed his prize and returned to the front lines.
While everyone else had the paste to consume Bastion delighted himself with the raw and bloody flesh of another canine. Such a thing really wasn't that strange. It was his specially prepared dish at each of the Last Suppers, one meant only for him while the rest ate the cooked meat. Bastion sat himself on the ground in order to eat the tongue. He had put distance between himself and the sacrifice but continued to make it known that he was better than everyone else because he didn't sit among the crowd either. No, he had made his own row that as separate from everyone.
He listened to Eris give her speech. He wasn't really thrilled with all that blood going to waste but at least he had managed to get some for himself. While he wouldn't have the full amount from the sacrifice he had at least gotten enough for himself that he could allow for Eris to do what she would with the rest. After all this was a show for Salsola and not a kill for him to do whatever he wanted to do with. And who knows, maybe after Eris was done with the body then he might be able to have the meat from that as well. He would just have to wait and see though.
She watched but felt very strange in her body. There was something else under her skin, something alive and strong and very different from this shape. Salvia had felt it before but allowed it to take her. Now, she was in control. A beast rumbled and breathed her breath, and saw through her eyes. They were the same, in a way. There had never been a time when she had not lived as a monster, as this striped devil who took her when she abandoned herself to these strange drugs and stranger magics.
The man-child was forcing himself where he did not belong. Salvia disliked seeing such terrible disrespect, but her mother was a fiend when it came to allowing such things. Eris was weak when it came to children—even if this man was not such, he resembled one. Fury boiled in her blood.
It was his scent that pulled her back from the edge of disaster. Green eyes trailed away from the corpse, from the witch that was her mother, and found his form slipping into the shadows. Without hesitation, she stepped back from the torrents and followed after him. There was no doubt that she believed this her right; her loyalties were with Sirius alone now, and no longer belonged to the woman who wore the mask of the dead and spoke to smoke and the empty sky.
(694)
Probably can wrap this up pretty soon?! o: Not all that important.
Eris is by Nat!
She saw the veriest of them lurking on their outskirts, but even her chartreuse eyes swam merrily over The Boss, viewing Salsola in its entirety as one. The clear lines separating canine from canine had blurred for Eris now, and she could no longer tell one from the other -- they all sang together, so what did it matter, anyway? All the colors of her pack ran together and formed the most beautiful rainbow. Even dull Molcaxitl shone for the brief few moments the slave-woman was still present. Her daughter's departure was missed, for Eris's eyes and the tip of her nose had turned skyward, studying the infinite number of stars in the sky for a long moment. She might have been praying; instead, she was thinking, the disjointed things that passed for thoughts in this state flowing over her mind like a river.
And then, moving with haste, the coyote leveled her gaze to the earth, then to her hand, as if realizing the knife still clutched there for the first time. A dreamlike smile spread across her muzzle, and she turned back to the sacrifice. He was still unconscious, still lost somewhere in that twilight between the worlds of spirit and flesh. That was alright -- chances were good he would fly awake for his final few seconds, and she didn't require him to awaken, anyway. The dark coyote seemed to slide forward the few steps to the trespasser, Miqui shadowing her; the knife in her hand no longer so much as twitched. Her hand was as steady as it had been any time she had sliced the flesh of her Family with her mark, and she knelt over his body and stretched the blade toward his sternum almost lovingly.
Obsidian was not a particularly strong material; it would break easily if mistreated. It was however, able to be sharpened to a razor's edge, and this was just how Eris kept it. The dark knife slid through the thin flesh of his chest and down his stomach, cutting through muscle as easily as a surgeon with a scalpel might have, decades ago. Eris had no intent to stitch the man up, however, and she cut him to between his hips, a welling line of blood rising after her blade. It did not so much spurt as it did gush forth, and the hybrid was not absolutely certain when the man passed from this world onto the next. That moment was not key, however, and the dark woman set aside her knife, now shaking all over herself.
Her fingers slid into the line she'd sliced into him, and sought for his ribs. Her fingers slid between them, seeking and grabbing with the wet things before catching sufficient grip. With a pause, she heaved against the cage holding him together, rending them apart with a sharp crack that echoed through the deadened night air. She sought for his liver, sliding through his innards with practiced hands even as he gave his final twitches and jerks. Its warmth seemed to radiate outward, and the coyote shivered again as she grasped hold of that precious organ, bringing it out of him with a few tugs and pulls. All else mattered little; she stood on shaking and wobbling legs, stepping away from her pack and holding the organ toward them.
She was now faintly aware of the fire and smoke, Molca's final act before departing. She did not remember having given this command to the slave, but it was fitting, in any case. Her dreamy smile remained as she stepped toward the small fire, offering the organ to the flames with outstretched palms. Fire had been preferred in Eterne only on occasion, but the dark-hued hybrid thought Larkspur's method fitting for Salsola, and she had adopted it, twisting it to her need as she did much else in the world. Fascinated, the dark hybrid sank to her knees to watch the licking flames and drifting smoke. The scent of cooking meat filled her nose, and as she breathed it, her mind departed her entirely, slipping quietly into the shadow-realm.
He was late, and he knew that, but it took a while to get a baby ready to go to something like this, and what was even worse was that he could not find his master no matter where he looked and it was really worrying him. So after looking all over the place, he realized that he would probably be where there was blood. And since there would be fresh blood, he bet his master was already there. Feeling bad now, he shifted his jacket up on his shoulders before he reached down for Enigma, holding the pup close to him before he left, moving swiftly and quietly over the land. The baby seemed to be getting sleepy anyway so it was a good excuse for the child to take a nap in his father’s arms. Looking down fondly at the little child, Janos wound his way expertly through the trees until the smoke of the fires tantalized his senses, the call of blood pulling the high-ranked male towards the gathering. As he came upon the scene, he stayed near the back until a slave found him and he partook of the paste before he wound his way through the crowd, following the scent of his master. He saw many faces around that he didn’t know but he figured that it wasn’t something that was altogether too strange. After all, he was an arbiter, one of the boogeymen of the pack, it wasn’t like he associated with a whole lot of the more general population.
The heavily scarred male quietly took his place behind Bastion, reaching out to touch the other’s shoulder lightly to let him know that he was here and that Enigma was here, the pup shifting a bit in his sleep, the other sleeping very lightly. It was hard for the pup to stay asleep with all this excitement so Janos didn’t know how long it was going to last. He watched as Eris cut open the body of the wolf and it was hard for him to watch not because it was gory since that was a part of life, but rather because it brought back so many memories of what he had done in the past that it was painful. But he endured it with the same emotionless expression on his face that he had had on his face during that time too. It was just the way that things were that he ended up in this place and just his fate that he would have such bad memories attached to such a gruesome display. But a part of him couldn’t help but think that this was an incredibly beautiful display, as beautiful as it was horrendous to look upon. Looking over at his love, he stood protectively behind him, watching passively as the organ was thrown into the fire. What beautiful sparks it sent up, as if it were a last homage to the sacrifice and was an acceptance by the universe of the Salsolan ways. It was a quiet, reverential moment to him, his steely cold eyes trained on the flickering flames.
Odessa stared onwards, emotionless. While it was a wondrous, awe inspiring act her aunt played out before her, she couldn't help but feel a little bit scared, almost petrified by it. A crack filled the air, the stranger's ribs breaking obviously. Her pumpkin eyes gazed at Eris's hands, slipping so easily though the man's chest. The medic couldn't quite decide whether she wanted to partake in such a gruesome ritual but she showed her face anyway and found herself strongly captivated. Besides she assumed that being here would put her in favour for a promotion and her strong drive to be accepted as family, as she once was when she was young and held the Bambino rank, pushed her to attend.
The scent of roasting organs filled the air, something that Odessa found almost tantalising. The show was over and Odessa had other things to attend to. It had been an interesting insight into her aunt's deluded, yet brilliant mind. In truth she idolised the woman and therefore when every fibre of her being told her this was barbaric in the very least, her faith in the woman lit the way. 'Bye' she uttered softly, though she assumed that Eris could not hear her and left silently into the darkness. While outside of these lands she feared the moon for it meant all kinds of predators came out, while on Salsolian land she was free and safe.
There is a hell, believe me I've seen it, there is a heaven let's keep it a secret
Pale eyes descended on multiple wolves, all of their shapes and sizes, a few of them looking like they would be delicious, and others that looked as if they belonged on the ground, with their own livers torn from their bodies. Esmeralda was not a spiritual person, more than likely would never be, because of her apparent lack of depth. She was in a shallow pool and the only way she would be able to get depth was if she tried to dig deeper, and obviously, she was fine just sitting in that shallow puddle of disgusting rain water that she saw as a puddle of gold. Her eyes wandered back to Eris, her mentor, and she smiled lightly at the woman. She listened to the woman's words, what little there was. Part of Esme was trying to figure out what was this whole thing about, since she was new and did not know too much of the ceremonies that the family participated in. Anathema was not like this. No, they only had mateship ceremonies. Never was there a ceremony to celebrate the coming of winter or for the protection of the pack. Already, this place was much different from the home she once knew. She didn't know if she should be intimidated or not, but on default, she took it as a challenge to learn more about this pack of hers that she had committed herself into.
They threw the meat onto a fire next, a very interesting smell had billowed in the air and she snorted lightly as the bat that was under her cloak shifted and climbed out from under the cloak and it had moved to the outside of her cloak and onto her shoulder, it's large ears shifting around and it's nose sniffing. It was becoming slightly distressed because of the smoke, so Esme shifted and moved away from the smoke, but watched the fire, who's colors were changing as she moved away, and it also flickered erratically. She stopped in her steps, and then she started to giggle. She couldn't help but start to dance either, her hips swinging from side to side, almost in a gypsy like manner. She truthfully had no skill at dancing professionally, but she did know how to move her hips in enticing ways. It was a skill she had learned to and practiced for some time now.
(554)
I'll leave this open in case anyone else wants to reply again; otherwise, I'll probably wrap it up shortly. Unpinning now.
Also, this post is total hallucinatory drivel. O_O Eris is basically sitting by the fire and doing what she's doing in dreamland (standing at one point, bowing head, etc.). None of this is actually happening. /semi-obligatory disclaimer
Eris is by me!
The world seemed to rise in the spirals of smoke drifting upward from the fire. Sparks and tiny cinders drifted upward with the sizzle and snap of the meat. The powerfully good scent had begun to fade, leaving behind a charred and deathly scent that spoke only of death. There was no life, no energy to be gleaned once the meat was reduced to ash, and this was the sable-furred woman's aim. She would allow the others to take the man's pelt, his flesh, his bones -- whatever else was left of her sacrifice, it was Salsola's to keep or discard as they would. Eris had her important piece, and she had given it over to the other side, and now she felt the rise within her of some other force.
The whisper rose quietly in her mind, a background din she could not at first identify. There was not one voice among them, but a hundred thousand, and each babbled at impossible speed, their words and meanings blurring together as well as Molcaxitl's paste. The dark woman was but a sprat among the immortals, her dull flesh-ears unable, at first, to discern meaning from the roar of noise that had risen within her own mind. As she stood among them, however, all physical world around her drained away to shadowed darkness, the woman felt the smoke again, impossibly hot as it enveloped her.
A concentration of heat touched her shoulderblades, both ears, and her forehead, growing hotter by the second. The dark hybrid was readying herself to cry out with the pain of it, when suddenly, all hurt evaporated, and she realized she stood with impossibly large, lengthy wings. Feathers as dark as her own fur, shiny and slick like oil, covered them. Her ears had lengthened and widened to comical size, and great, curving horns like that of her ram sprouted from either side of her forehead. She knew these things rather than saw them, but she might have looked at herself if she wished; here was her power, drawing back and away from the physical and the flesh and acquiring her truer form.
She breathed, and smelled smoke. There was a quiet whisper as her hearing shifted from her flesh-bound ears to these smoky ones, and she shivered with the feeling of it, less an auditory hallucination than a palpable feeling drawing put and down her spine like the claws of a lover. The voices and their words became clearer to her, and the dark woman knew their meaning at long last. The language, familiar as it was with these ears of smoke, was unintelligible to the flesh-bound ears, and now, only now, did she take their deeper meaning.
A roar rose among them, one she knew well. Despite her familiarity with it, a tingle of fear crept through the woman, and she bowed her head to await his presence, the heaviness of her smoke-limbs palpable to her. She saw green eyes, brilliant and bright as her own but lacking in yellowy hues, an imperfect match. She sucked in a breath, and felt him all around her like a viscous liquid wind. There was no discomfort, but where the fire and smoke had been hot, there was only cold and death in him.
