in the slipping of the sun
#1
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(1010)
This can count for both your second Curandero challenge (participate in a pack ritual) -- if Imhotep participates in Zacatapayoli with Tlantli, anyway. Zacatapayoli is a ritual/punishment. Additionally, it can count for thread prompt #2, if they end up discussing their beliefs with one another. c: Yay for Marie points!

Also whoa, tl;dr -- Tlantli is standing outside of her home in the Borgata Colotl, wrapping her arms with thorny vines.



Tlantli is by Alaine!

It was as if she had been under the cover of night these last few months. Since inducing her miscarriage, life had become bleak and dull. In truth, the tawny hybrid had scarely wished to live it anymore. She had come close to the end once or twice over these long weeks. Her family had rejected her, stripping her of rank. Her very sister -- the dark woman who proclaimed herself Auxiliary and dared presumed she spoke to the gods -- had betrayed her.

Tlantli's lip curled and exposed a razor-edged tooth, her pale yellow ears folding back into the haphazard clump of coffee-colored hair upon her head. Although the golden woman had allowed her hair to grow to ridiculous lengths in her quiet months, she had shorn it short again, using her own hand and her own knife. Although she appeared thinner than she had, the tawny woman was not altogether unkempt and disheveled. She had lost little of the shine and spark that had first cast her into The Crone's position -- or, at least, if she had lost it over those long months, it had returned to her at long last.

Over the most recent weeks, there was a stirring within her again. It was not the stirring of children; she knew that feeling well enough, and she wanted it no more than she had before. It was a rising of purpose. She had lost hers, abandoned it with the trip northward, in truth. Tlantli should have fought harder to stay in Eterne. The yellowish woman wrapped her cloak around herself, shivering against the wretched cold of these northlands. As much as she loved Salsola -- or had loved it, more truthfully, since the place had lost some of its shine to her -- the tawny woman knew her truer purpose now, and it lay to the far south, those desert lands she'd walked away from at so young an age.

Tlantli understood Metetzili had acted as he needed to act. She was least safe of her siblings, though Miqui and Imacai might easily have been forced to terrible fates, themselves. Tlantli, however, was a woman, and as a woman, she was to wield the power of her family's lineage, regardless of her brothers' birthrights. She felt this strongly within her bones, and her rumination over the idea had only made it gleam brighter in her mind's eye. The sun of the Kimaris family would rise again, and she would usher it across the sky.

Red-hued eyes turned toward the heavens, and the coyote looked through her crumbling window to the afternoon sky. It was too difficult to see the sun here, too difficult to soak in his rays and bask in his glory. The skies were overcast far more often than they were clear, obscuring the woman's view of the heavens and the beautiful sol. If she went south again, she could pass through the desert, and the sun would beat hot enough to set fire to her fur.

The flaxen coyote stood, stretching her limber and athletic body. Her fingertips brushed the roof of her tower, and the woman inhaled the damp, stony scent of her personal abode. None had stepped foot within this place since her miscarriage, and the sparse few who had seen her dwelling previous to this event scarcely would have recognized it. The walls were scratched with claw-marks and stained with blood; a pile of small mammal's bones occupied the floor next to her dresser. Natheless, it was hers, mess and all.

She slid toward the dresser and slid out the left drawer, rustling through the furs and pelts tucked within to feel Nagual's body. It was cool, but not dangerously so. The snake would hibernate through the rest of the winter, not stirring even to eat. A small, flat dish of water was all he required, and Tlantli's eyes passed over this shallow wooden bowl and saw the water level had dropped some since she'd last checked on him. This was possibly due to evaporation rather than the stirring of her cold-blooded companion, but it was no matter. He was fine, and the winter's cold could not reach him while bundled into those pelts. On especially cold nights, Tlantli lit a fire and brought down her firepit stones to keep him from freezing. Beyond this, the snake required no care whatsoever in the winter months, a boon for which Tlantli was glad. She was not certain she could have kept him in good health if he was fully active through the fall.

She closed the drawer as slowly and carefully as she'd opened it, and moved to the exit of her tower, slipping beneath the heavy pelt draped over the entryway. The cold air bit into her flesh through her thin coyote's fur, but Tlantli donned no clothing. The flaxen canine walked along the outside of her circular tower, stopping beside a suitable bush. She grasped at the long, thin vines and pulled, unmindful of the pain as the thorns bit into her palms. Pain was the point, after all, and if she would balk at its foreplay, she should reap none of its rewards. Tlantli, having secured a suitable length of thorny vine, proceeded to wrap the length of it around her arm.

It was not so tight that the thorns immediately caused her to bleed, but she had secured the ends of it, and in due time, the thorns would cut and slice through the flesh of her arms -- a petty price to pay for the appearance of pure loyalty, Tlantli thought. Those who saw this ritual would mistake her for one pure of heart, when in truth, the cold center of it had turned as lethal as the venom in Nagual's fangs. She flexed her arm, and the thorns obediently followed, digging into her flesh. Finding the knot of vine secure, the woman moved to wrap her opposing arm in the same manner.

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#2
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Imhotep
By the power of Ra...
OOC :: You almost got a blank post almost forgot to add my Text lol

Imhotep took in a deep breath of the air. This air seemed so different from that of the desert, but he brushed this off as nothing but a joke. Imhotep stretched as he looked about, he would need to learn more about this land and its people. He was not so sure he was meant for this place yet though he also was a slave who pretended to be a man. Though Royal blood ran through his veins none of its Pride seemed to. Imhotep also worked hard to make sure not to do anything that would harm Odessa because she had spoken for him so the desert man walked on eggshells.

Imhotep set his gaze to the outside world he wanted to go and work on something but he was unsure of what to work on. Stepping out into the cool air Imhotep shivered causing him to get what the humans called Goosebumps. The fur on his next and back raised as he shivered lightly god he hated this place so much he longed for the sand on his paws and desert sun of his back. He huffed as steam emitted from his maw.

Imhotep groaned as he moved he found his body begging for the sun to scald his back on more time. He looked around and tried to hold himself with respect for those who were Family. He was not yet and he wondered what he would do to change this. He wondered what he would do to start helping and what to do just to keep himself busy. He wanted to speak with Eris and go through a ritual Odessa had spoken of though he was uncertain of where to put the mark. He felt the wind whip at him as he moved through the territory he wanted so much just to prove his worth and do something of true value.

Imhotep grabbed at his braids and tried to tie them all back. He didn’t want to deal with them hanging all over the place for the wind to toy with. He moved towards where he had heard of others living hoping just to get some basic knowledge and understanding of Salsola. He wanted to really submerge his mind in the world he had chosen to be in. Golden orbs glistened in the light as he had to squint a bit from the sun dancing off the snow.

She would have to someday ask someone to remove the silver cuffs from his wrists fully allowing him to give up the past. Snow danced in the wind as the smell of another along with a hint of blood entangled in the air. He wondered who was harmed or what was going on though he never really changed his pace much. Though he changed his direction a bit as he searched for the direct location of the other. He found himself moving towards this tower that he had not seen before. It was something that the humans had left over it was old and showing its lack of human care. The mortar was cracking and there were spots where pieces were missing he wondered who lived in the cracking artifact.

Moving slowly around he found her she was Salsolian he could tell just by her smell though he had never seen her before. He adverted his gaze and sunk his body a bit forcing himself to show full respect to the woman of rank. “Good day.” He spoke his desert tongue laced his new world speech as he gave her a slight smile. “May I ask what do .. I mean.. umm why hurt?” He wasn’t sure what he was trying to ask the woman so he stood there most likely looking like an idiot but that was nothing new to the man. He was an idiot and that was just because he knew nothing and he would never know. At least that’s how he felt, he always felt as though he should be able learn quickly but it was not so. Glancing lightly at her he tried not to make eye contact, Odessa had been very clear about respect and that it was to be shown to everyone.



By the might of Horus, you will kneel before us.
WC :: +701
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#3
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(586)
Assumed Imhotep would answer in the positive for the question about him being new; let me know if you need me to edit. Big Grin



Tlantli is by me!

Already, the bite of the plant's thorns was clearly palpable in her arm. Tlantli had infrequently engaged in this ritual while in Eterne and even less frequently in Salsola, but its presence anywhere was unmistakable -- a Luperci did not often mistake liquid red running down the arms, nor its coppery scent upon the wind. This was why Tlantli had employed this ritual, however, rather than others -- blood sacrifice was important across many cultures, and even a place blinded by their own falsity could sense the strength in it. Her blatant display of this ritual might be seen as overearnest by some, certainly, but it would not fail to educe the respect of many.

The straw-colored woman carefully tied the securing not of the thorn in her opposing arm, and was preparing to move away from her low-slung habitat when a voice interrupted her. It was laced with an accent exotic as her own, tinged with the fire and spice of some faraway land. Tlantli turned toward the canine and took him in in a moment, her sharp eye appraising his lithe golden form. She was glad to see more males in Salsola; while something of a feminist and an earnest believer in the superiority of her own sex, Tlantli did not entirely discount the usefulness of the opposite gender, either. Men had their uses where women were not so strong or incapable, after all, however few and far between those lacunas in female skill were.

Her answer was prompt, and the woman regarded him with a broad grin, as she'd noted his deference. Tlantli was not high of rank any longer, and she capitalized on this moment of superiority, her tail lifting a notch to signify her dominance over this Associate, as he'd given signal to his own lowly position. The honey-furred woman was not, however, without a smile; this faint apparition of what might once have been a fierce grin showing just the tips of her filed teeth and their razor points.

It is not to hurt, the woman said, speaking clearly and loudly through her own accent, curious to find out if he would understand her. Although they were from two different ends of the globe, Tlantli could not help but recognize a faint familiarity in the way the golden-hued stranger spoke. Tlantli, well-accustomed to various languages throughout her life, thought it possible they were from familiar areas -- or, perhaps more likely, she was simply gainin a keener ear for the wild variety of languages in the world.

You are new here, yes? she inquired, her usually brusque tone inquiring unabashedly regarding his status, though she full well knew it from his stance. In truth, though, her sand-colored companion might have been a member of Salsola for the past three months, and Tlantli would not know it. She could tell he was not Family, and his scent was only faintly Salsolian -- this latter could mean either a new canine or one who has just spent time outside of the pack, necessitating the loss of Salsolian scent. Well, you do well to listen to me, then -- these plants and their thorns, they are a symbol of the pack. To wrap your arms and wear them is Zacatapayoli -- it shows you are strong, and it shows your loyalty, she said, dabbing a finger through a thin line of red beginning to trace down her forearm, with this.

In one way or another, they all paid with blood.

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#4
Imhotep was impressed to say the least the woman was very smart and able to under stand him clearly for the most part. She was also one who seemed to not fit in this wild northern world. He wondered what had brought her here and what had motivated her this day to do this. moving closer he looked at it and nodded.

"Zacatapayoli hmm I do show I loyal" He spoke as he looked at her arms. He would do all he could to prove to Salsola and those who saw him. He did not know about his girl and her hidden issues with Salsola but he had no hidden issues and he would honor those he served for by doing this. He moved towards the bush after he watched her tie off the second vine.

"how long I do?" He asked Rituals made him feel more at home from his point of view was get information and do it right. He would learn more about healing and he would become an asset to salsola something that would make who ever proud and would make him a good choice some day for a woman. The sand kissed man reached out for the thorn bush and gripped them. This pain was nothing compared to that of a whip.

He held a strand of vines and held it just right as he started to wrap the thorns around his fore arm. They slowly began to dig in as he flexed his arm a little allowing the thorns to dig in a bit. looking at the woman a bit. He reached for a second vine he began to wrap that one as well.
#5
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(316)
OH GOD NORMAL SIZED POSTS



Tlantli is by me!

The golden-hued man seemed more than willing to engage this practice, so important to Salsola. There was no evidence of misgivings within him, either -- without hesitation, he stepped closer to inspect her arms and then toward the bush. For her part, Tlantli peered off into the distance, feigning disinterest in what the Associate was doing. Despite her supposed indifference, the yellow woman's carnelian eyes switched focus from the distance to the golden dog now and again, inspecting his progress through a sidelong glance.

The man spoke, and Tlantli considered his question a moment, tilting her head to the side in contemplation. She shrugged her wiry shoulders, and a lopsided smile now graced her tapered muzzle. As long as you can stand it, she said, rather simply. Or, as long as you want to. No time limit, the woman said. In my homeland, there were some with arms never unwrapped... but some of them, well. She again shrugged, twisting her head away to look south, in the direction of Eterne. Some die of infection, you see, so it is good idea to take them off after a day and clean the wounds.

A corpse is no good to you, no good to me, and no good to Salsola, right? she said, the fierce grin again showing on her muzzle as she turned to look at him again with these words. What is your name, and where do you come from? I am Tlantli Kimaris and I come from Eterne -- far south, far across the desert. The explanation was delivered simply, tinged as it was by her thick accent, but not without pride. If there was but one mortal sin Tlantli engaged in, it was pride -- pride for her homeland. The flaxen woman was not particularly arrogant where her own skills and talents were concerned, but she would elevate Eterne in the highest at every opportunity.

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#6
Imhotep looked at the vines as he flexed his arm. He watched as they worked there way into his flesh and he sorta smiled. So this is what Salsola wanted? Blood they wanted their people to bleed for them. though to the man of many gods this thought also came as something strange though maybe it was ment more as a metaphor.

"I no do stupid thing, no get sick" He spoke as he nodded making sure both were secure. "I want help heal those in Salsola so I learn more i hope tend to wounds and be useful." he spoke. If he would only slow down he could make clear sentences that those around him would be able to understand.

"Imhotep Aabt. I come from Egypt." He spoke clearly as he smiled. He had pride for his homeland but he also had no real ties he had been nothing there. to most here who he spoke to he had been a farmer though that was a lie. He never wanted to live his past again. "Eterne is that like here?" He asked he didn't want her to think him nosy though since both were bleeding together then he might as well try to make conversation and work on making sure he obeyed the social norms.
#7
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(341)



Tlantli is by Alaine!

Imhotep had taken to their ritual with ease, Tlantli saw. He promised intelligence in assuring his wounds would not become infected, and on the contrary -- he shared with her his aspirations of tending to the wounds of Salsola. The flaxen coyote guffawed as the sandy-shaded man shared this with her, a razor-toothed grin splitting her golden-yellow muzzle. She wondered if he would act as Curandero, one of the trio of healers and medics within the pack, and thought it best not to inquire directly.

Yes, yes -- it would not do to have a healer get sick with blood fever. Stay healthy, please, the coyote advised, still grinning faintly. You do this ritual good, she complimented. Her speech was slowed in accordance with his own, each word carefully enunciated. She wished to be understood, and it was only polite when speaking across such language barriers. Imhotep said he was from Egypt, a revelation which caused her nose to wrinkle. She did not know where Egypt was, but Imhotep had asked her a question; she could delay her own to provide an answer to his. She considered it carefully. Eterne and Salsola were so very similar -- both were places steeped in false tradition and empty ritual. Both would fall before her family; neither Eterne not Salsola would exist longer than the Kimaris family.

Yes, and no, the coyote said, rolling her shoulders. I think your home is different, yes? Just by looking at you, I think this. Eterne is the same way. We speak different language -- el idioma español, she said, the Spanish flowing from her tongue easily. What language you speak in this Egypt place, and where is it, exactly? She had already provided him the answer of where Eterne was, and she expected a general answer, as she had provided -- Tlantli was not intimately familiar with the world map, and had never taken much interest in maps and charts, besides, and she would be able to grasp only a general answer, in any case. Across the sea?

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#8
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Word Count :: Borgata Coatl Slave Quarters Crap start no muse

Being here was so primal and it was weird things that his society had shunned for they were beyond being merely dogs. Imhotep looked at her and she spoke to him and she gave him what he thought was a compliment and Imhotep couldn't help but wag his tail. He was happy that he was doing something right.

they both seemed to be weighted with an accent something that was much harder to break then a language. You could force a slave to speak english but forcing one to lose its accent was something else. That was my the last owner he had never allowed him to speak. He looked at her and nodded.

His home he could talk about the land he loved the most. He thoght for a moment as he went to speak then forced himself to stop. Arabic, though in travels ma..many say no speak curse He spoke.

Imhotep looked at her and then knelt down. When he was on the boat over here he had seen some maps. he drew in the snow this blob. We here he spoke as he looked at her. he then made some space and drew england where he had been. England bad place He spoke drawing some more blobs Europe, then Africa Egypt here I here middle of country." He spoke looking at her.

Image courtesy of I don't know o.o; table by the Mentors!

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#9
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Tlantli is by Alaine!

The honey-furred coyote cocked one large ear at his words, squinting her scarlet eyes at him. She did not understand -- his language was a curse, or he was forbidden to speak his languages curses? And curses -- well, that could mean a curse in terms of a hex, or it could mean the dirty and foul language prim and proper canines tended to avoid using. Before she could inquire, though, the golden man stooped to draw in the dirt, apparently an approximation of the world map. Tlantli tilted her head and peered down at them, her fascination growing steadily as she watched him doodle and listened to his explanation.

Map-drawing is rare skill, the woman observed, having encountered no canines with cartography talent in her time in Anathema and Salsola both. Such a long way to travel, too, she added, bending down herself to peer at the map. As she set her palms to the earth and supported some of her weight on them, the thorns buried deeper into her arms, though Tlantli did not wince. I cannot point where I am from on any map, she said, some disappointment creeping into her voice. But I can find it again -- nose and instinct, you know? Is the same with your Egypt? And -- your language, what do you mean, curse? She had nearly forgotten hear earlier inquiry.

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#10
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Word Count ::

Imhotep had to admit he was a simple mind easy to please and easy to make happy. The woman had praised him in a sense and he could feel his tail wag ever slightly at the thought that he had some form of skill that could help them. He had to admit though this was all he really knew or could draw. Not very good and I saw map once so that how I know this. It was the truth he didn't know much else and he wasn't sure wap drawing was for him.

I don't know if I could i've been so many lands He spoke most of which he had been on transports where he couldn't see out side. Packed with others the stench from them inside was enough to make it hard to smell what was out side. I doubt I ever go back anyhow. Long journey I'm aging and well here is good enough. He spoke looking at her.

He didn't have much on his mind, he stood up dusting off his legs. He looked at her as she asked another question. I traveled to England very errr nose up society. They said my language had no place. He spoke looking at her he was trying to form his words trying his best to never allow the old life to mix with this one. He was something here he wanted to remain something. they tried to ed.. educate me beat me till I spoke what they spoke He said hoping she'd get it.

Image courtesy of I don't know o.o; table by the Mentors!

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#11
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Tlantli is by me!

The flaxen-haired coyote had no comprehension how accurate Imhotep's map was. Indeed, maps needn't be precisely accurate in order to be useful, in any case: a rough approximation was better than nothing, after all, and nothing was precisely what most packs had. Perhaps her coal-furred sister, false as Eris was, would make use of this one's cartography skill -- but Tlantli wouldn't be the one to play informant. Their Auxiliary and Boss would have to learn of these additional skills of Imhotep's by their own actions, or his own admittance.

Not very good is worlds better than not at all, she said, a cryptic smile passing over her muzzle. But yes -- here is good place, and you will find good treatment. I know what you speak of -- in Barbados, some did not like our Spanish very much. They liked their... mestizo language, half-English, half-something. Here, you speak what you want, I think -- others won't understand, but you would not get beat for it. Mostly -- Tlantli could think of a few situations where Arabic or Spanish babbling would get her and Imhotep in trouble -- when addressing the Auxiliary or the Boss, perhaps.

Maybe some would even like to learn your mother tongue? I helped teach Salvia, the Auxiliary's daughter, Spanish. This suggestion was offered with a faint smile, and she stretched and flexed her arms again, working the thorns deeper. The time would come soon when they would need to strip them from their skin and wash the wounds, but Tlantli could tolerate them a bit longer.

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#12
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OOC sup bitches? / +yo numbah!


Imhotep smiled as he nodded. Safety that was something that he had ever really thought about. He stood there looking at the golden woman. She made him feel slightly at more ease then before. Maybe being a slave had effected his ability to be a normal luperci. Maybe he would have been better off working as a slave for Salsola. though these thoughts sometime crossed him he was not going to live that life he was going to work to be a free man and that was that.

What of the Symbol I've seen on members. I think Odessa Called it hand Eris. He spoke looking at her. he wanted to know of the various things of this lands culture. And having this woman here he might as well take the time and talk to her about what ever he could.

He flexed his arms feeling the thrones dig in and he got slight amusement from it. Imhotep looked at the blood and smiled a bit. He did this to prove to his mentors that he was one of them. He didn't know that the woman was merely putting on an act of sorts. He looked at her waiting for an answer he wwasn't sure what else to say in fact.

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#13
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(315)



Tlantli is by me!

The hand was the mark of the Colotl ranks, unquestionably symbolic of the authority they held within Salsola. Tlantli hesitated a moment, thinking with her head cocked to one side so it appeared she was simply contemplating rather than hesitating. She was well-phrased in Salsola's cant and knew the meaning of this symbol quite well, but did she truly believe in it anymore? Their Auxiliary, she whom the symbol represented, was nothing short of a farce.

And yet -- Imhotep had done nothing to her. The golden-hued coyote had been polite and respectful through their entire exchange, seeming to profess earnest desire to serve his pack. Who was she to misdirect him? The flaxen-haired coyote did not wish to plant the seeds of chaos and destruction within Salsola -- that it was no longer her true home did not mean it needed to be dismantled entirely. She had her answer, then, didn't she? The tawny woman smiled her toothy smile and pointed out her own mark, carved into her shoulder. As she moved, a long trickle of red blood worked its way slowly down her forearm.

This symbol, it stands for The Auxiliary. She is... spirit-half, I guess, of Colotl ranks -- the leaders. Members who have this symbol have her protection, the coyote said, phrasing the answer in such a way that it did not conflict with her beliefs or provide false information to Imhotep. This was a satisfactory compromise for Tlantli, who neither betrayed her fellow Salsolian or herself with these words. She did not truly believe she had Eris's protection -- if the coal-furred woman offered any protection at all, she had no reason to love Tlantli anymore. In the eyes of the leaders, she was a failure -- they had told her this unequivocally when they had stripped her of rank and co-rank in one fell swoop.

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