[p] el cielo es azul

Tlantli Kimaris · 02-25-2012, 04:47 AM

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(422)

Tlantli is by Alaine!

It hadn't been terribly long since Tlantli's last excursion to the city. In fact, her last visit had been rather recent -- she and Miqui had traveled by horsecart and met up with Salvia, and salvaged quite a bit of loot useful for their clinic project. Today the flaxen-haired woman had come to the city for her own purposes. She needed to amass her wealth now -- as the yellow-haired woman did not intend to harm Salsola in order to achieve her goals, she'd come to Halifax on her lonesome and on foot. It had taken her several hours to run the distance from Salsola to the edge of the city. Her Optime form was not preferred for such long runs, but Tlantli did not wish to spend the night in the city, and she would need to conserve her energy if she wished to keep to her plan.

She was looking for one sort of store in particular. This trendy district had many shops and storefronts, all of them slowly decaying with the march of years. None of the stores she'd seen thus far were quite what she sought, however, and the woman continued onward, carnelian eyes passing over busted windows and collapsing wooden doorframes. As the yellow-haired coyote made her way down the empty streets, her hope began to wane, and she stared to consider entering a home rather than continue exploring in hopes of finding the right type of store. Perhaps she'd need to raid a few different homes to find her prizes, but this was preferable to meandering aimlessly until nightfall.

What the tawny coyote sought was adamantine -- anything shiny and of high value. Tlantli's skills were not in the material world -- she could only hope to gain so much trade advantage before having to resort to her body, as she had in Barbados. The prospect did not daunt her excessively, but she feared for the children she hoped to carry. She could not begin such processes until she was more ready to settle, and she did not yet carry them, but she would -- she believed this as earnestly as she had believed Salsola, before. Its scent was scrubbed from her flesh with ocean and sand, replaced by fresh-smelling herbs and other concoctions readily available in the storage area. Tlantli also wore her shoulder guard, covering the scar bearing Salsola's likeness. A burlap sack was tossed casually over one shoulder, though it dangled limp and empty as of yet.

Caprica D'Angelo · 02-25-2012, 06:49 PM

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It's chemical the way we love. The way we hate it's quite inhuman

Word Count :: 900+ Y me gusta tu!... and I clicked post too early. D:

She was stalling. That was all this ridiculous mission was - one giant ploy to avoid working on the cherry wood she'd gathered at such great effort. Now it lay unused, tripping up passing Anathemans, some of which had even come to her with their grievances about the pile. And still Caprica could not muster up the gusto to get going. It was more lack of knowledge than anything, she knew. If she really understood the things she read in the book, about hammers and nails and bevels and a million other technical terms, she would be able to step effortlessly into the role of carpenter. There was only one way to build understanding, and that was by doing. Caprica knew this, but still she prevaricated. The real reason was something else: an odd restlessness in her feet, like an itch or a tugging at her soul. Of late, the old yearning for love and companionship had died down a little. Now she just wanted… something. Something she couldn't put her finger on. This annoyance was enough to keep her from getting stuck in to making her furniture and the ladders and stairs she'd imagined building in the caverns: keeping her from doing any of the artistic endeavours she had been participating in up until recently. All she could do to quench her undefinable yearning was to travel, and so she'd invented an excuse. Of course, before she created the shelves and platforms in her cave den, she had to finish the walls, still made of only bare stone. She had an idea for covering them with hanging fabrics and woven cloth. Such things could be found in the city: this much she had learned at the Winter Festival. Decorative items endured while the more useful utensils had been gleaned away by intrepid luperci. So Caprica had saddled up, strapping her five saddle bags on in expectant anticipation, and ridden South.

The journey was easy enough for her, used as she was to riding, now. But the city was a far more daunting prospect. She hadn't realised it was so huge - upwards as well as down. Once she was inside, she felt instantly lost and worryingly, every street looked roughly the same. Her horse found the area as spooky as she did, and shied at any rat or bird that made a movement. It was only luck that led her past the fabric warehouse, and luck that caused a selection of curtains to be strewn over the road, a rope of torn fabric leading into the wide doorway of the factory. Caprica dismounted and led Rohan inside, gasping as they halted in the entrance. Piles of cloth assaulted her eyes with their variety. The tall dark wolf and the nervous bay thoroughbred wandered down aisles, past rolls of linen, cotton, ropes of curtain hems, ribbons… most gnawed at by rats or mouldering, but she thought, there was enough to salvage the perfect selection of wall hangings. Which was a nuisance, as her excuses would have to end after this mission was completed.

Shrugging off this petty thought, the Anatheman had finished her work of salvage within an hour or so, tying the horse to what had once been a cash register. She managed to fit enough of one colour into each saddlebag, and two massive rolls she strapped behind the seat, giggling at how they stuck out to either side of Rohan's midsection. It was the long pieces of decorative bordering and ribbons that had her really tempted, but there was no more room on the horse. Or was there?

Caprica emerged from the huge warehouse, followed by an animal resembling more an embellished parade mascot than a working steed. Rohan's back was laden with cloth, both over and under the saddle. Every strap had a ribbon or cord wound around it, and there were still more braided into her mane and tail. Even her legs and tail had not escaped the indignity: each were comprehensively bandaged with strips of black velvet. Caprica herself wore a scarf of a peacock-blue curtain edged with gold, and a lustrous piece of green silk that she hadn't been able to leave behind decorated her head like a turban. The one-horse-parade proceeded at a markedly slower pace back up the road. Proud of her findings, the uncertainty about the way back seemed less troubling now. Caprica was happy to wander.

Sooner or later they reached a segment where the buildings were not so squat and ugly: the fronts seemed smaller and more decorative. She passed many signs, a few still legible but the strange human concepts too alien for her to figure most of them out. She paid little attention to the kinds of stores they passed. She had no more carrying capacity anyway: no point looking for buried treasure. Her horse's hooves clopping loudly on the concrete, Caprica was sure, when she saw an investigating golden figure ahead, that the luperci would have heard her arrival, so there was no point even considering avoiding an encounter. The woman had a sack over one shoulder, which Caprica eyed longingly. If she had another bag, she might be able to tie it on somehow, and thus gain more loot. "Hey!" she called, but Rohan had chosen this moment to find her own newly-velvet legs surprising and was spinning around fretfully on the spot, so Caprica wasn't able to ride over in a friendly manner as she'd planned. The mare came to a long-suffering halt eventually, and Caprica turned her gaze back over to the wandering lady with ther short hair and scent of perfume. "Uhhh, hey. Are ya plannin' on using that sack?" she inquired, with her usual straightforward indelicacy, but she caught herself immediately. "I mean, heh, where'd you find such a useful looking sack like that, I mean... wow." Caprica tailed off shamefacedly.

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Tlantli Kimaris · 02-26-2012, 03:52 AM

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(424)

Tlantli is by Alaine!

Tlantli was fond of the human city, truth be told. She understood little of the dead culture, could not read, and most human inventions were simply beyond her comprehension. Still, it was good to walk amongst the remnants of a civilization that had crumbled beneath its own weight. It reminded her how transient and fleeting all in the world was, and how desperately close her family had been -- and still was -- close to destruction, itself. No longer -- she would ascertain this. It had become her life's mission, birthright or no. Miqui seemed uninterested in reproduction entirely and Imacai was lost to the wilderness beyond. It was therefore her duty, and one she gladly accepted.

The pale coyote was just readying herself to head to the more residential areas of the city when noise behind her attracted her attention. She had been paying attention to her surroundings, but relying on sight rather than sound, and the canine was close now, and likely within range of sight herself. As if to confirm Tlantli's suspicions, the dark woman called a greeting. It seemed the horse had chosen this moment to throw a fit, and Tlantli watched with sharp eyes as the equine spun around, trailing ribbons and other doodads everywhere. The hybrid thought this canine, too, was here to scavenge, but unlike Tlantli, this one had found whatever it was she'd sought here.

The question was the direct, and nearly took the yellow-furred woman aback; she stared for a moment as the other woman quantified her inquiry, rephrasing it to sound less of one on this particular sack. The tawny coyote stood for a moment, uncertain, and clutched tighter at her prize, empty as it was. It is mine, she said, cautious despite her raised voice to compensate for their distance. I found it here, back that way, she gestured, pointing vaguely to the left.

In truth, she had no idea where it was she'd found the thing, and it smelled faintly of other Luperci, surely someone else's possession before it had passed into her hands. You have a whole horse to carry your things. You'd want my sack? she inquired, her voice sharp with skepticism. She was ready to bandy words with this woman -- her time in Salsola had prepared her for such. She was used to dancing about the truth of the matter and stating things without truly saying them. It would seem, from first impressions, this sable-hued woman, with her extensive decor, was just the opposite.

Caprica D'Angelo · 02-27-2012, 08:53 AM

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It's chemical the way we love. The way we hate it's quite inhuman

Word Count ::

Searching for a ready container like that in the city, even with the directions of 'back that way' would probably resemble scouring a haystack for a needle, but Caprica appreciated the woman's lack of hostility. Her words had been prompted by greed, nothing more, so she squashed any further desire she had to angle for possession of the simple burlap holder. It didn't seem in best taste, and any attempt would probably be doomed to failure anyway. "Sad to say, she'd not much use for putting stuff inside," she answered the question, a little unjustly as it was a perfectly fair comment and although she made no apologetic gesture, she accepted the rebuke for her greedy comments. "Gotta strap it on somehow first. Kinda full already though." Caprica managed to get her tired horse walking again, closing the gap between herself and the woman with the intriguing voice and intelligent eyes. It was a slow approach though, Rohan's head was low and her steps dragging. For all she resembled a ceremonial elephant, she wasn't as strong as one and the folds of cloth must weigh quite a few pounds extra, Caprica thought with dismay. Perfect timing for a rest. "On second thoughts, much as I'd love to fill another sackful of this pretty human stuff, please, please - don't let me have it. I can't take the weight, and there won't be breathing space in my den at home before too long, either." Her squirrel-like personality was irrepressible. Caprica hoarded objects like bees made honey. She swung down to stand before Tlantli, a practiced smile reaching up to her eyes beneath the green headscarf, trying not to be self-conscious. She could only pull off a look this kaleidoscopic with an aura of unerring confidence. "Caprica, of Anathema. Crafter, horse-owner and retired sack-thief," she introduced herself in her straightforward manner. "So you out lookin' for something in particular today?"

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Tlantli Kimaris · 02-28-2012, 01:15 AM

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(516)

Tlantli is by Alaine!

The flaxen-haired coyote let out a snort of laughter, unexpected to her as it might have been to her sable-furred companion. She supposed it just might be possible to use as a horse to carry things in, though she had been assuming on was the preferrable way. A surgeon with a careful enough hand might be able to fill a horse with stuff and stitch the equine back up, but Tlantli was not certain how long such an arrangement might last -- additionally, it was an excellent way to induce fever sickness, or so Tla thought. Still, it had been a funny enough comment, for its unexpectedness, and Tlantli hadn't been able to keep herself from chortling.

The other woman carried forward on the back of her horse, both of them appearing overdecorated. The horse seemed tired, but as the flexuous rider dismounted, Tlantli saw she was in good shape, and roughly the same age as she herself. She licked her muzzle, running her tongue carefully over her teeth. Too much carelessness and she'd slice her mouth and tongue to pieces, but Tlantli was well-accustomed to the filed points of her fangs and rarely did so. Don't worry -- I will not. I need it, she said, though she softened this blow with a smile that was rather sweet, as far as her smiles went.

As the dark-hued wolf continued, however, she introduced herself and her origin, and suddenly, the sandy coyote understood her apprehension about filling the space of her caves. Wrinkling her muzzle, the woman appeared displeased, though it was not at this woman herself or her place of origin. Tlantli had departed from Anathema, but she held no ill will toward the pack. Ah, I understand -- it is easy to fill a cave. Can't you take another? she inquired. I used to live in Anathema, also. Tlantli, she offered, speaking nothing of her surname or her pack. It displeased her to avoid using her surname for respect of Salsolian ideals, but she was not so rash as to disregard her pack's culture. It existed for a reason, after all.

I am looking for anything of trade value -- I was not expecting to carry so much as your horse, so I try to find smaller, shiny things. However cautious the hybrid was regarding her origins, she saw no point in disguising the reason for her trek here today. People-rings capable of being worn by Luperci -- maybe some necklace dangly, she said, using the hand not clasping the bag to pick up the amber bauble at her own throat as an example. It dropped back limply to her chest, almost hurting as it struck her chest. She lifted the empty bag from her shoulder and frowned. No luck.

And you came for... she peered over the laden horse with a sharp eye, trying to discern just what it was the other woman had taken from the city. Baubles of your own sort, I think? she suggested, a grin tugging the corner of her mouth upward just slightly.

Caprica D'Angelo · 03-08-2012, 06:03 PM

There was something definitely exotic about the other woman, exotic in a way Caprica would have loved to be but couldn't quite imagine how. She had not figured out the secrets of dressing herself in mystery, although she already wore her appearance as a means to power rather than a simple facade. But Tlantli's mystical aura was more than skin-deep. The coyote-rangy woman spoke with tones that sang of distant places, and there was a strange ferocity about her mouth - in even her cropped hair and the deliberate scarring, but especially between her lips where something more dangerous than simple teeth seemed to reside, with greater pools of shadow between each fang as if their points comprised less space than most, although the effect was nothing if not subtle, Caprica noticed it especially when the stranger laughed at her ridiculous horse comment.

It made her heart sing to learn the amber stranger was once upon a time an Anatheman herself. Wherever she was now seemed irrelevant: they were kin of a sort, to Caprica. It also meant she knew about the caves - knew their number and size, probably. Caprica nodded, accepting Tlantli's idea as a good one. She might feel greedy taking up more than one cave alone, but perhaps she could set up a small workshop, or some such thing.

Her mood could not have been lifted more as the woman stated her objective, with her lilting, clipped phrases that ran smoothly into her ears like honey. Caprica loved to hear that jewellery and such adornments were valued by others, because she adored to make them so much. She wished she had some of her better pieces with her here today to tempt the lady with, and see if she could make her eyes gleam. "I like your thinking. Another cave, or a bigger one. Yeah, I could live with that," Caprica mused. "Thing is, I gotta finish mine up first… I'll never find time otherwise. I came here to find wall decorations - hangings, y'know? Thinkin' I got lucky." She jerked a beaming head at the material-carpeted mare. "Maybe I can get you lucky too. I don't have much with me, but I'm an Abigor - a crafter, and I make jewellery." She peeled her necklaces of from beneath her new and expansive scarf, and lifted her paw so they dangled. There were four, today - they were all wooden beads, painted in different colours of many combinations, and varnished with pine lacquer. Two had pure white pebbles encased in copper wire - easy to find considering how much the humans had relied upon it - dangling as pendants from their lowest point. "See? Dangly. They ain't precious, though. Somebody might like the colourful ones, if it matched their fur or eyes, or somethin', right? You can keep a couple if you want to." Caprica turned the necklaces to show them from both sides. Most of the beads were kept their natural dark wood-brown, to save time painting, with the more colourful ones mixed in. Greens, pinks and blues with a few dark blacks, stained using charcoal and then sealed. Caprica wasn't sure who else would enjoy her quirky style, but it didn't hurt to offer. She liked to think of her creations being worn and appreciated.

Tlantli Kimaris · 03-09-2012, 07:00 AM

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(481)

Tlantli is by Nat!

The flaxen coyote remembered little of Anathema's ranks or traditions -- she had never risen above the subordinate's rank, and her time in Anathema had been short indeed. She was with Citlali then, and her brothers were Infernians, though Miqui had come when she asked -- eventually. Her brother had been more disagreeable in those days, though Tlantli liked to think they'd both grown up some since then. She felt she had, anyway -- it was difficult for the yellow-furred coyote to remember her own age, at times. She felt very much an old woman, having lived too long and seen too much. In truth, though, she was not even three yet. Her second birthday had come and gone in her dimmed months, with no recognition or even realization on Tlantli's part. It was a strange thing to remember, at times, and just now was one of them. Her age and spirit's age held no bearing to the present moment, and Tlantli discarded the thought with the dark Anathema's continuing, her carnelian eyes regarding the other canine's necklaces as she showed them.

Tlantli's gaze moved to the other canine's face in surprise when she offered them freely, and the hybrid's head tilted to the side, regarding the darker canine with a sharp eye. Generosity surprised her, for her own pack was not a generous one -- the strong took what they would, and the weak were taken, more often than not. Gifts were given with the intention of having repayment, but Salsolian ideals were not universal, and Caprica might not expect anything in return. The dark coyote reached to touch one of them, bringing the loop of the necklace closer without taking it fully from the coal-colored wolf's grasp. This is good work, she said, ignorant of necklaces' manufacturing entirely but knowing completed and wearable works were worth more than unfinished trinkets. You make your wall-hangings, too? she asked, nodding toward the laden horse.

And you are sure you don't mind? the woman asked, lowering her hand slowly so the necklaces did not crash into one another as her amber pendant had to her chest. I don't know what I can give in return, she said, shrugging and indicating herself. The amber pendant and any other baubles she currently possessed were likely to help return her to Eterne, and she could not afford to part with them now -- a promise, perhaps, but one Tlantli might not keep, should early spring favor an early departure. She did not wish to intentionally play the dark woman false, for Caprica had -- if Tlantli understood her correctly -- made an offer of generosity for no reason apparent to Tlantli. Even so, the flaxen coyote had her purpose, and if an objective deviated too far from her purpose, she was likely to ignore it completely.

Caprica D'Angelo · 03-09-2012, 05:42 PM

The suspicion and aloofness in Tlantli's eyes didn't bother Caprica too much, although at first she was wary that the woman was eyeing the amateur quality of her work. But the other contradicted that idea with her statement, and so Caprica was left in the dark as to the cause of the sharp gaze. "I'm gonna try. I can sew," she shrugged. She liked the simple, repetitive task and sitting with all her attention focused in on the motion of her hand, thread and needle. She was getting better all the time. "Hey, don't look a gift-horse in the mouth," she added warningly. "I mean what I say, okay? Take whichever you like. They don't take me so very long. The beads are only roughly carved, not as smooth as they should be and I can colour a bunch at once by dropping 'em in the paint, same with the varnish. I haven't even put any patterns on these," she sighed. If she'd known she'd find a former Anathema sister abroad today she would have come better prepared, instead of just grabbing the plainly strung beads, choosing them for colour alone, not as examples of her best work, as she readied herself for the day. Caprica was ever-willing to extend her generosity and benevolence upon those who were ever a part of the blood-family, as per the Anatheman culture which she'd integrated so wholly. She made a small movement with her hand, urging Tlantli to take her pick. "So what do you do with yourself these days, Tlantli?" she inquired, her voice stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables and praying to Tak she got it right.

Tlantli Kimaris · 03-10-2012, 05:35 AM

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Tlantli is by Alaine!

The yellow-furred coyote did not hesitate again after further urging on the part of her dark companion. She selected the foremost of the necklaces, not wishing to be greedy. Her red eyes spent a moment looking at it even more closely, a faint smile turning one corner of her mouth upward. The coyote's attention reverted to her partner, however, as Caprica continued speaking, and Tlantli regarded her with a playfully sour look. You undervalue your work. It is not every Luperci who makes these things, she advised, inclining her head toward the dark woman in thanks. I do thank you for this gift.

As she looped the necklace about her own neck, the coyote looked up toward the other woman and smiled, considering a moment. Wandering and serving my family -- if I can ever return, she added, wistfully. In truth, Tlantli understood little of her former pack's culture, and did not comprehend the dark woman's friendliness and generosity for what it truly was -- rather, she simply thought Caprica herself an exceptionally nice canine, with generosity for those in need of it.

This gift helps in my journey, she said, indicating her newly acquired necklace with a grin. And you? Other than making jewelry and taking many caves, I mean, the flaxen coyote said, smiling at her jest. These few parts of Anatheman culture she understood well enough were her fallbacks, though she supposed it was not so strange for someone to notice first and foremost the living quarters of most of the mountain pack.

Caprica D'Angelo · 03-15-2012, 08:13 AM

She was tempted to continue deprecating, for although not every luperci did make such things, that was probably because most had better things to do, in Caprica's eyes - and also, just about anybody could do it, if they chose. But she accepted the thanks grandly, just sensitive enough to try to cover up her lack of self-belief with pride. "Oh, it's nothing," she smiled and her eyes flickered over the wooden beads against the golden coat, pink and brown and black. She hadn't figured the woman for being much for the feminine touch, but it looked good on her. Maybe she would keep it instead of trading it, but either way made no difference to Caprica. The woman's words were of great interest: what sounded like a saga-length story condensed into just a few quick syllables. Why might she not be able to return to her family? But Caprica wasn't much for stories, preferring the here and now. She didn't pester, but merely interjected "Well, hey, if you can't go back to 'em, remember you'll always have a family in Anathema, right?" Caprica lifted the underside of her palm where the blood cut was made for members who weren't already blood. Her own palms were uncrossed by this rite, as she was the daughter of Naniko. She was sure Tlantli knew what she meant, though. Her question had Caprica shrugging, and laughing slightly because it was the first time she'd been asked, and so she failed to answer as quickly as such an obvious question seemed to allow. "You pretty much got everything. I want to start learning carpentry soon though. Y'know, to work wood on a kind of grander scale than beads! Make furnishings, storage, maybe even houses…" This was, as far as Caprica could see, the most useful application of her crafting tier, but she was so far having trouble finding the motivation to get started: mostly because she didn't actually know where to start. "It's a work in progress. I also like cooking. And magic," she added in case she was sounding dull, but really the wiccan Panda had done all the work during her one and only encounter with a spell. Caprica was keen to try again some time, despite the frightening results she thought had occurred.

Tlantli Kimaris · 03-16-2012, 06:49 AM

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(334)

Tlantli is by me!

Tlantli had not been in Anathema long -- there were a few brief weeks of cave-dwelling in her memory, and then only Salsola. This was a curious worldview, for it afforded her little insight even into her former pack's cultures. And so it was with mild surprise she listened declare her family. How different this was to the idea that only the useful could be considered family, and departure was exile and disownment? She knew the blood ritual, had done so herself -- her own palm was crossed once, a thin sliver of a scar that had faded with the months since it was made -- but she had been piteously blind to its deeper meaning.

This is true, she said, feigning previous understanding of the concept. This is alternative I did not consider, she said, and this time truthfully -- she hadn't considered this before, being unaware of the idea in the first place. Gracias for this reminder, the woman added, her grin full of deadly-sharp teeth. Tlantli Kimaris fully intended to return to Eterne or die in the effort, however, and she doubted she would return to Anathema -- still, if something were to happen between now and when she was fully prepared to depart south, if she had to leave Salsola early? This was a viable alternative, and the flaxen coyote was perceptive enough to file it away for future consideration, her contingency plan in case everything went completely awry.

The slim coyote listened with perked ears as the coal-furred woman listed her interests. Cooking did not interest Tlantli, but she saw the value in it, still -- carpentry was a worthwhile skill, to be sure. Few Luperci were capable of restoring old human buildings, let alone building anew. The pale coyote's grin broadened at the last admission, cocking her head to the side. Magic, she declared. We have this in common. Lucky us, magic is everywhere, the woman said, flinging a hand upward to indicate the wide world around them.

Caprica D'Angelo · 03-23-2012, 07:06 AM

Caprica tended towards the superior: especially towards those who were not Anatheman. Her own superiors, well, to be ranked above herself accorded them great respect, for she had some strongly developing ideas about her own worth. Then there were those who were physically inferior to her: which was almost everybody, except the ones who were large like her but with much harder and firmer musculature: she admitted that in some ways her bulk did hold her back, especially with speed. But it did not hurt to have the power of weight behind her when strength was called for. Tlantli was manifestly smaller and not Anatheman, and yet, Caprica was aware of a certain feeling of deference around the ochre coy-woman. She could not put her finger on it, on why she felt almost awed by her presence. But when Tlantli commented on the final throwaway part of her statement, and gestured to the sky and spoke of magic, Caprica guessed why her heart was already half in thrall to her new acquaintance. Magic. She had it. Caprica didn't - she had no more than the gris-gris around her neck: no training, only raw - as she imagined - power, unformed and unknown. Tlantli spoke as if she understood some mystical power, and the D'Angelo realised this must be the intangible charisma she'd sensed from her presence. Her heart burned to learn more of the mystical arts. She wondered greedily what she could be, in possession of talents like Tlantli's.

"Lucky us, yeah," she smiled, well pleased to be included in the ex-Anatheman's estimations. "Less lucky for everybody else, perhaps." She should learn to control her power, she thought then, for others' sake and not only her own. So far, it seemed she had a fair bit of strength, due to the unintended results of the simple charm she'd had cast for her. It could not have been the Wiccan's influence alone. Panda had not even known the real motivation behind that spell. But Caprica had, and the object of her undesirable affections had fallen to her ethereal might. The thought frightened her but also excited her, just a little. "How did you come to know about magic?" she asked a little abruptly, too many thoughts whirling in her skull to frame a more delicate comment. Oh, she just wanted to know more - know it all - and now. Her horse had begun to crop the tufts of grass that broke through concrete cracks: Rohan was used to being ignored when her mistress had other things on her mind. Caprica was unconsciously leaning towards Tlantli, every part of her body intent and eager suddenly upon the woman, as if silently begging for answers to more questions than so far she had dared to ask.

Tlantli Kimaris · 03-25-2012, 06:29 AM

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(419)

Tlantli is by Nat!

The wheat-furred hybrid did not understand the first part of what her companion spoke. Applied to herself, she interpreted it to mean, of course, her own understanding of the spirit-world and magic transcended the false priests and priestesses of the world. Caprica could not know these things about Tlantli, however, and the statement had an entirely different meaning when applied to her, no doubt. For her fierce attitude, Tlantli's magics were not dangerous -- they did not derive their strengths from the fall of anyone but herself. She did not disbelieve the power of harnessing others' strength, but she was no vampire, as Eris Eternity was. She did not need to fill her soul with the force drained from another -- she had power enough within herself. In any case, the yellow-furred woman did not seek to dominate through spiritual means -- she had seen the outcomes of this twice before, in her homeland and in Salsola.

My home. A city old to the people who walked before us, she said. Eterne was, beyond any and all doubt, situated in a place of power: if nothing else, the lives and light of the many who had walked the soil before Eternian Luperci empowered the place. Tlantli believed it was something more, though, and she itched to cleanse the place of the false priests and false teachers who dominated her home. If you are looking for my words, something to give you... knowing, she began, strugging with her English and hesitating for a moment. Tlantli was an imperfect speaker, an accented one at all times, but it had been some time since she altogether stumbled on her words in this language.

Someone who tells you, 'I know all, follow and listen, do not think, listen to me' -- run, the woman said, punctuating the statement with a sour laugh. The world is full of false priests, false priestesses. False gods and false books. They tell you they know all, and they know only greed and lies. Your best magic, it comes from here. The woman indicated her belly, laying a hand over her liver. But here, too, she added, tapping her skull. And here, the woman said, stamping a foot against the asphalt. There, too, she said, indicating a crack where a green sprout stood defiantly against the black man-stone. I understand nothing of all this, she said, solemnly. There are no words in this tongue or my own that can give you what small things I do understand.

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