interlude
#1
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# :: This is what the horse is wearing.

It had been a long process, but Siv was thrilled with her results. She had been careful to go when the Hunter was not around, and only run into Salvia once. She had not given much information as far as her goals of the time, but measurements had been easy enough to gather. Fixing together the hides had been more difficult, but she was a skilled woman, and with little duties beyond this, time was hers to kill. Two reindeer, each females (she had realized this from their antlers, and given them to her daughter to chew on) had gone into the contraption.

Making the dye was harder. A massive collection of pine had gone into the green, and once satisfied with the cut and construction of her leather, she had allowed it to soak for two full days. A rich, beautiful shade of green had taken away the light golden-yellow. It had been left alone along the edges, though she had gone in later and brushed this in with a secondary piece of leather. To accent the orange, she had used alder. Yellow came with sumac, and it was a brilliant shade she was truly happy with. It had been harder to find something useable for the blue, but dogwood had suited this need.

The horse was calm enough for her to strap on the headpiece, and the blanket was slipped on with ease. It was held together around the chest by simple loops and long buttons made from bone. Pleased with her appearance, the woman looped on Luna’s lead and pulled her out into the land outside of the barn. A single call was given for the dark man she called master.


Repay treachery with lies


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#2
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unnecessarily huge post :/ -> 5+

As it was, Sirius was approaching the location of the woman before her ringing cry pierced the crisp air. He had been prowling in the Northernmost plains beyond their territory, near to the base of Halcyon. The mountain had been exhaling cold breath down on Salsola for some time now, and already its peaks were capped with telltale white. Often, the monarch's serpentine gaze could see the ominous curls of bruising clouds, looming on the other side of its breach.


A millennia of instinct warned him, deep in his bones, that the winter would break soon - A rupture of the heavens that would send a deep chill and a blanket of white to cover his land.


But the promise of snow was held with baited breath, and had yet to curse the land below. Regardless, Sirius would face the weather as he always had - With impassive control, with the cold acceptance best befitting his arrogant nature. His people, the Family, were strong; A long winter would not break them.


However, the mountains were not what had caught his attention and sent it to linger beyond the borders - It was the fresh scent of a stranger that had done such a thing. The Hunter had found him with pitiful ease. The boy was little more than an adolescent, hardly old enough to make such a journey from his home and hearth alone. But his belongings were foreign, and spoke of a home beyond Nova Scotia, somewhere out near the more exotic areas of New Brunswick.


It had taken him little time to frighten the boy into submission, and claim all that he had. The bounty was sparse, and somewhat disappointing; A few saddlebags with various miscellaneous items, pouches of salted strips of deer, a small bundle of cakes made from crushed grain, lard, and a dried fish his taste buds couldn't name. There were no weapons to be had, none but a small and primitive dagger that had Sirius' black lips twitching in dismay. Perhaps the most valuable thing the boy had was his steed, but on closer inspection it, too, was hardly worth his time.


The mare was old - Not swaybacked, but not a youthful beast by any stretch of the imagination. Her teeth were worn and her sides lacking the rounded gloss of good and regular feeding. Her mane and tail were long and snarled, the grey-toned hair of her tail stained brown with dirt where it dragged along the ground. Her hooves were in good shape, suggesting some good heritage, but she was slow to respond to his irritable tuggings and motions.


The boy relinquished these goods graciously, well aware that the unfamiliar man simmered with a peculiar and venomous danger. Perhaps he feared death at the Revlis man's wicked claws - More likely slavery. But such a pitiful wealth had dulled the Hunter's fire, and after tossing a single pouch of food at the boy and chasing him a few paces until he got the idea and fled, Sirius relinquished the chase. He had no current need of slaves, and didn't want to dispense the man-power in training the boy to be subservient.


His first stop was the Ruins, to drop off the foreigner's belonging in his own chamber, to sort through later incase a treasure had been overlooked. Then, growling at his misfortune, Sirius gathered up the leather strap that had been tied about the nag's neck as a lead rope, and was on his way to the barn when the woman's call hearkened to tall coyote ears.


A thoughtful frown shadowed his face, even as listless feet became more attentive, and the tall dark man lifted his pace. It was not with obedience that Sirius hastened to the woman's call, rather curiosity. Her voice was still strange and unfamiliar, although he knew her to be a member of the pack. Something about its timbre rang with a strange power that drew his interest to a predatory sharpness.


The mare seemed to resent his shifting moods, and it took some effort to goad her into following his fresher speed. It surprised him that the beast was unafraid of him - None of his snarling or baring of teeth reduced her to obedience, as it did Luna. Instead, the grizzled, wizened mare just gazed back at him - The King of thorns got the distinct impression that she was as unimpressed with him as he had been her.


They finally burst from the brush and into the open clearing, a pocket of dry and stripped land that hid the barn neatly from the view of any wayward or careless eyes. However, it was with distinct surprise that Sirius took in the sight before him, and from habit born of previous surprises, his free hand moved to loiter instantly of the hilt of the dagger strapped to his upper thigh. It was the woman - The strange, dark foreign woman whose voice had lured him - And she stood beside a strange green beast that smelt like Luna.


It took less than a second for his brain to understand - Less than a second between his hand hovering above the dagger and then dropping back to calm nonchalance at his side. The woman had cloaked Luna in some smooth, supple green material, that by its dull sheen was cured leather. Skill had rendered the leather into malleable material for the creation of the bizarre garment that cloaked his silver mare's haunches and head. Detailed flourishes added a brace of extra color to the leather, gilding it gold, a rusty orange, and a pleasantly deep blue in places. The pattern was familiar to him, and it took the King another moment to place it as the hues that decorated his symbolic companion, Noble the peacock.


His gaze slid over the mare, registering all these details in productive silence before shifting to the woman. Pupils dilated on her, stretching the venomous mass of acidic olive about them. It was not many who braved to touch what belonged to the King - Only Larkspur and his daughter had permission to do much of anything with the beautiful horse that he had claimed as his own. What was more, Chairo di Luna did not often allow the affections of others, of those unfamiliar to her. But she stood in docile compliance beside the dark woman who he now appraised.


She was indeed a splendid specimen, different from any he had seen. Her charcoal and frosted fur was clothed in an exotic lavender garment, and her head and throat glittered with gems of a similar hue. He had never before been close enough to survey her with such intensity, and took a long moment to do so now, well aware that his stature allowed him the presence to do what others, lesser ranked members, would consider rude amongst themselves. His attention was to be taken as a blessing; His approval, much less his attraction to her, was to be taken as more than that.


Having made his presence obvious, the brooding man nodded once, a silent permission for her to explain why it was she had called for her King.




Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
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#3
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#409 ::

There was still a very primal and very simple way about her life. She had gone through the wilderness with very little tools at her disposal, and less aid once the stupid horse had broken its leg. Caring for a child during this was an insane, but not impossible, feat. Finding the others was what had made her wait—she had not stopped until the land spoke, and until she caught the whisper of power in its breath. How right she had been, now. The gods had proven this the night that the moon bled red and she had collapsed on the shore. Power coursed through these lands.

Such power was no better exemplified than in the man who came forth from the underbrush. Siv subconsciously stiffened in his presence; his musk radiated forth and practically screamed what he was. Master of this land, Hunter, Lord. He was in his prime, her elder; he was old enough to know the difference between youthful cruelty and elder wisdom. There was an instant repelling force from him, but it was like that of a riptide. Deep in her loins she felt the familiar stirrings of heat, but he was not a man who could so easily be conquered. She could tell this from the scars on his chest, the very way he carried himself. Deep in her eyes a dark flame flickered, perhaps the only hint that she found him attractive. This was not even a physical response—he was too short for her liking, though instinctively, her body recognized the alpha male’s power and desired it.

Siv would not have been able to properly submit in her form without dropping to the ground, but she made a display of doing something similar. Head dropped, knees bent, and she sunk briefly to touch the ground with one dark palm. This done, she returned and while her head was high, her eyes remained carefully locked at the clasp around his neck. “My Lord Hunter,” her voice rolled forth, formal and trained for public speaking. “I wish to present you with a token of my appreciation.” With this, she held out the reins to him and crossed one arm over her bare, still milk-swollen chest. It was a formal motion, but one done in order to best present her sultry shape to the man. Regardless of his rank, power, or might, he was still a man and all men were, ultimately, simple things.


Repay treachery with lies


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#4
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*gurgle* -> 3+

Although submissive, he felt a distinct lack of fear within her, as he had from the mare. It was not a response that the King received often, and when presented with a lack of it, his dominance felt innately threatened. In a cruel and harsh land that sought survival over all else, fear was power - Although their culture had become more civil from these primal and wicked notions, the instinctive root of it remained. Slightly unnerved, the monarch's narrowed pupils were extra sharp in looking for signs of rebelliousness of rudeness; Such things, accompanied by her apparent lack of modest fear, would have been unrelentingly punished.


But she was perfectly docile and modest, subliminally submissive, and he could find no fault within any of her gracious movements. For such elegance, the woman was surprisingly large; Her form was shapely and curved, swelled at the hip and the breast with signs of motherhood. He smelt the sweet tang of milk about her, but it was faint. If he had known anything about the nature of mothers and children, then perhaps Sirius might have known that these were the signs of a weaning child, but this was an area with both his instinctual and accumulated intelligence was at an loss.


Her rounded form did little to dissuade his attraction for her. Plump flesh led itself to connections with bounteous food, plentiful supplies. It had an air of wealth about it, as did the plush glossiness of her rarely hued pelt. Her narrowed waist was invitingly feminine.


But it was the woman's eyes that drew him in most - Even downcast, he could see their luminous, unique hue. Never had the King seen a color quite like it. She was foreign enough to be viewed with suspicion, beautiful enough to be seen as valuable. Teetering between these two view points, the Hunter was quick to assert his dominance with raised head and tail, and certain subliminal indications of the posture that had been accepted as a show of dominance since the beginning of their kind.


He accented tone was accepted with a wordless sound, like a grunt both smoother, more deadly. It rolled from between his jaws as he watched her with hungry, predatory eyes. "This King accepts your tributary. Rise, woman," His voice echoed her smooth formality, his dark tenor proudly oozing the words. She had done well to assume his preference for such eloquence, of both gesture and speech. Sirius had never been a blunt man.


His hand brushed her slightly as it took the reigns. Luna, well used to the scent of her master, instead turned her attention to the mare. As the current matriarch of the Salsolan herd, her posture was defiant, and the presence of a potential usurper made the silvery creature jittery. The speckled mare looked at her with one eye, a surprisingly comical glance that reminded Sirius far too much of an older woman about to scold a much younger one for being too precocious.


A thought entered his head - It was customary for one gift, presented so formally, to be reciprocated. But he had not learned enough about this strange beauty to know if she deserved the blessing of a King. "Tell me your name. You are new to my Kingdom - The Auxiliary must have welcomed you into our ranks," His suspicious gaze loitered on her, unable to part with the mysterious amethyst of her eyes, "Why have you brought me this gift, and where did you learn such skilled leathercraft?" He assumed it was her hand that had made the spectacular adornment, for no traders had entered these lands for some time. He had never before seen such vibrant dyes used on deer-hide; her technique must have been an old one.




Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
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#5
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#306 ::

Even though she did not look at his face, his body spoke to her. There was a flutter under his bear-pelt, a shift of his head. What a prideful creature; he was like the very peacock. The corner of her lips pulled back in a faint smile, but it was one that did not linger. A command was given, and while she was hardly stooping now, Siv adjusted her position as if she had been waiting. It felt peculiar to be subservient to a man—but she had not missed the scrutiny of his eyes as they followed her body. Baby-fat still clung to her, but it was a sign of good breeding to be able to hold onto such. A skinny waif would die under the harsh hand of winter.

The horses were things she did not bother with, and so Siv ignored them and focused her attention on the man alone. It was he she had intended to impress, he who had the true power. She smiled at the slippery coating of his words, wondering how many women had fallen to such tactics. “Siv, my Lord Hunter.” No surname; she did not need one here. If things moved along as she had planned, in time, she would claim another. “When I came to your land,” even now she phrased things in such terms; there were games played with words, and she wove them well. “I came with little. I could not properly gift the hospitality of your kingdom.”

She flicked her eyes to the pale mare’s blanket at the mention of it. “I was trained by various hands; the secrets of the craft were passed down to worthy apprentices of the bloodline. I have been practicing since I was a girl.” There was no boasting from her, for her skill showed itself clearly enough.


Repay treachery with lies


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#6
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3+

Still, that feeling of impudence seemed to linger about her - As though he wielded no true power over her, but that which she allowed him to think he did wield. It was disconcerting, and put the King ill at ease. He was a master at confrontation, and had she openly opposed him, it would have been easy to school her; easy, and possibly brutal. But she was inexplicably well-mannered, in spite of the strange self-possessed control that he calmness emanated.


Such thoughts were subliminal. If Sirius had consciously realized that her actions were almost ironic, in that her apparent dutiful submissiveness was merely an act to fully harness the power he himself emanated, his rage would have been fast and to the point. The serpent was a mastery of trickery - He, himself, evaded the traps of others with a slipperiness that had granted him the power of a Monarch. Her women's power was much more subtle, but just as dangerous.


Sirius was not, by nature, a sexist man. He held dominance over women, true - But he held dominance over all beings of their pack, and in his mind, of all others, also. He was arrogant, and would have been to a flaw if it were not for the fact that he embraced and acknowledged his own arrogance. But it was true, that he saw the value of females as different from those of males; They were for breeding, for den-tending, for the raising of whelps. They were for amusement, and for dutiful tasks. But when a girl came along and surpassed his expectations - Salvia had been the most notable, although there were many others - He willingly relinquished his pre-perception of them. Value came before gender in the eyes of the Thistle King.


If Siv was as well-learned at the skills of leathercraft as she declared herself to be, then her value was, indeed, specialized and well worth his immediate attention. "You have done your mentors proud, with this gift," He said appraisingly, his gaze looking over the finely details hues of the peacock feathers before returning to the woman. She was taller than him, something that Sirius was not used to - Thus far, only Larkspur had been able to see over the tall monarch's head. He wondered if she was as strong as she looked. "What other skills do you have, Siv?" There had been murmurs and rumors amongst the family and the slaves, and Sirius had heard snippets of a tale about this woman and his once-lover, the ill and weary Tlantli.




Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
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#7
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::

Perhaps he had expected her to be physically capable; it did take her a great deal of strength to rip away hides, to strip the flesh from them, but she was no warrior. This was, perhaps, an understatement though. Her people were all fighters. They were not a soft bunch and they did not care for weaklings. If she had been attacked, she would have been more than capable of defending herself. Size alone granted her this. Experience was limited, but she had something to live for—and her daughter was worth dying for, as far as Siv was concerned.

She smiled mysteriously at his question, that same black fire flickering in her eyes. “I am völva; it is what The Dark Lady called a witch. She, too, is völva. I saw that when I first came.” There was no doubt in her about this. Eris had projected an image that Siv could not ignore. She had sensed it before, even, when she had scouted the borders and tried to spot the orange-eyed girl that had alluded her. Behind Sirius, the gray mare snorted at the younger, paler horse, and stamped one hoof loudly.


Repay treachery with lies


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#8
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3+

Her smile caught him unaware - It was a wicked thing, and now he felt the prominent heat of her power, curling out from the dark woman. Although he found her physically attractive - She would bear strong children, her strangeness held within it a certain lure not misused on the eyes of the King - this whisper of otherworldly presence about her, of mystery, made him far more nervous than he was aroused. Wariness and appeal conflicted, leaving him uncertain, a state which he found himself in rarely, if at all.


It was difficult, if not impossible, to make a grounded first impression of the woman. For a man who relied so heavily on his ability to read others, and manipulate them with the skill of a puppeteer, her shifting veneer of docility and power made her impossible to firmly place. This, in turn, made some of his power effectively useless against her.


Her words temporarily stole his breath away, and finally, all indecision fled. He knew what she was, now, and knew exactly where to put her within the massive storing facility of his mind. WITCH. I should have guessed. She smells of spirits, and of trouble. His brow fell heavily, casting stormclouds over eyes of tart green apple and acid. He knew that the other woman she spoke of was Eris, for she too had the power of the otherworldly, the one thing that Sirius truly feared. The logical man was truthfully extremely superstitious - It was within his logical-man nature to explain things, to know things. But some things could not be explained, and within these lay the cracks in his reason; He could not deny the presence of the other world, of spirits and deities, as much as he could declare the existence of the ground they walked on.


It occurred to him that he had better not insult her, for the witches his mind knew of were volatile, easily grudging creatures. It took him a quick moment to regather his aura of control - He was still dominant here, and if he thought that she had thought otherwise, perhaps he would have killed her. There was nothing worse than a disloyal witch. Instead, he grunted, a sound of sullen acceptance. He could no more reject her than she could him, unless she gave him reasonable ground to do so. To unduly scorn her beyond her lowered rank would be to invite her scorn, and thus the wrath of potential spirits.


The blue roan mare had turned her attention to the woman, now, and something in her cool gaze reminded the man again of Siv. Abruptly, he held the end of the leather thong tied around the mare's neck out to the tall woman. "In return for your skills, I give you this mare. Put her to good use. Laziness is not tolerable here." His usually succulent accent was clipped, and it seemed that he would not respond to her previous statement regarding her other capabilities. The pack had room for only one Crone - it was yet to be seen if Siv's otherworldly talents would be useful or not.




Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
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#9
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::

There was an instant—and only an instant—in which she saw something that could have been fear pass through him. It was a cloud passing the sun, a severe and surprising darkness that set the hair under her thick mane all on end. This was not because he was afraid, no, but because she was certain in that moment he was not a man who would stand idle by if her magic turned ill omens against him. Yet…and yet she had seen it. Already, a raven-black part of her soul had struck out and hooked talons into such knowledge.

She decided, then, that while he would not break under her grasp that he could at least bend. It would be like playing with fire. Acidity burnt in his eyes, and that fear turned into a severe and savage hatred for the unknown. There was power here. She had been right all along and Siv felt her bones settle. Eris must have sensed it to bring them this far. Purple eyes narrowed as a faint smile brushed her face, though it was startled off at his sudden gift.

Siv visibly gaped, as if the gift was overwhelming. In a way, it was. She took the leather (poorly made, she noted in a disconnected sort of way) and drew the spotted thing towards her. This was not without a solid yank, though it earned her a set of pinned ears and a sharp look that promised retribution. Wary of this, Siv took a step and once more sunk lowly and gracefully in a show of submission. “I will not disappoint you, my Lord Hunter.”

Yet even as her thick hair tumbled about her shoulders, her mind flew up from the ground and sought out all the years-gone-by teachings. She would find a way into his heart (if he had one) and she would ensure her destiny was one that was predicted. The gods would help her; they, after all, had a stake in her claim as well.


Repay treachery with lies


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#10
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3+

Her response to his gift was pleasing, soothing some of the male's metaphorically ruffled feathers. Her hand grazed his again as she took the leather thong from him, but this time the contact merely left him uneasy once more. She was a witch - To be respected, but not trusted, and only this for as long as she acted compliantly. At the first sign of danger to himself or his Family, the Hunter would come for her. It would be the same way with any Luperci of great power, be they a warrior or an assassin. If the power could be used against him, it had to be most carefully monitored.


It worried him deeply that Eris had recruited another one of her Sisters, but apart from the fact that they were growing in number, he couldn't pinpoint the reason for his deep and gut-churning worry. Never would Sirius succumb to the self-knowledge that he feared their magic - Fear was not a viable reaction to such a thing. The magic was the women's realm, and not his to worry over. A healthy doubt of cynicism would do him well.


Her deep stoop and lowered head were met with impassive silence, although approval lingered in his posture. She would know, as all mind-reading women did, that he regarded such antics highly.


Still tumultuous with uncertainty over the problems Salsola's new member presented to him, Sirius smoothly swung up onto the deep green leather blanketing Luna's back. The mare jostled and champed at her reins, filled with a nervous energy from the challenging presence of the old mare, the strange leather flapping at her legs, and the uneasy presence of her master. "Yes, I expect that you will," The handsome tenor of his voice was careful to hide all traces of disarray. Without further contact, he wheeled the mare about and rode her away.




Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
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