crocodiles cry for the love of the crowd

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 04:59 AM

[html]

(300) Dated March 5th

Animals, and especially predators, show remarkable resolve in the denial of wounds. Salvia was no exception to this rule. The most savage beating she had suffered the previous night hardly showed on her personage. Despite his ferocity, Sirius had not used his claws or teeth—the minor wounds she had suffered could be accounted to the Ichikan raid. Only the raised flesh under her face suggested any damage. That did not mean she did not feel the true damage of his brutual attack; she had reluctantly asked TK to fetch some medicine from Odessa, and taken the herbal mixture sent back. The slave had again been sent off to aid her father with the animals, citing a presumed wound from the raid.

Abendrot was her only company, seeming to sense she had a secondary motive for lingering indoors today. He had caught her a rather fat rabbit and she had eaten it quickly. Most of her morning had been spent waiting for the medicine to work, and once it had, she slept. It was a dreamless sleep, a side-effect of her cousin’s well-crafted medicine. The lynx, a massive thing that weighed nearly as much as a coyote (if not a wolf) slept by her side.

When she did wake, Salvia lingered indoors. She ventured out only to relieve herself, but her movements were stiff and sore. Her feline companion had kept a close eye on her, and offered to get further medicine if she required it. Unwilling to look weak before the Family, Salvia had rejected his offer and instead suggested he go hunt again. When he left, she curled up on her bed and lay in silence, half in and half out of reality as she struggled with the internal throws of a loyalist fearing further punishment for treason.

Sirius Revlis · 04-01-2012, 12:28 PM

[html]

Word Count » +3 :: Slooooowwwwww.

He would not be seen, nor waited upon, for the entirety of the morning. Preparation was going on beyond his field of attention - Food being gathered, prey being hunted. Another feast was taking shape, and there was much information to be shared between the King and his people. Many things had happened, and the wind whispered that many more things had yet to occur.

It was for these reasons that the monarch's tardiness was unusual, for it was common for him to be actively involved in the preparation for such an event. Hunting was his therapy, and any excuse to elope into the embrace of the woodland, and the primal surges of predator versus prey, were relished and taken with abandon. However, this day, his vessel was filled with bitterness, encapsulated within the dark cold quiet of his chamber.

His wounds were mainly of the flesh kind, shallow and treatable by the King's own hand. He was no healer, and knew precious little other than what common sense and instinct decreed were correct for the wounds. They had been bathed by his own tongue, wrapped in his own shredded cloth; The stinging pain had kept him awake long into the night, and when he did sleep, it was in wary patches, with half his mind still attentive to the ache and the dull pounding of slow-healing wounds.

His body was stiff and smarting, but visually, rather unhindered. Save for the scrapes around his wrists, all the other wounds were easily passable as trophies from having fought off the intruders. But he, unlike the girl, had little to worry about so far as inquisition and shame - After all, who would dare question a King? And yet, as though so heavily steeped in pride and conflicting emotion that he could not allow himself even this one weakness, Sirius sought no healing herbs to sooth his pain, and instead, suffered the minor and more brutal irritations in cold, reptilian silence.

By afternoon, his body had warmed enough that all pains were reduced to an ache that could, by the large, be ignored. The laceration in his right arm, re-opened from the fight with Salvia, was the worst of his wounds; But an hour's effort had led to it being relatively clean, and well-bandaged. His mind had continually been replaying the betrayal of the night prior; Over and over, Sirius watched the girl's face snarl at him. Over and over, he considered her actions, her motives.

Finally, he settled with the acceptance that she had not been attempting to usurp him. In spite of her obvious hunger for power, Salvia had never before hinted at any desire to take his thrown. Sirius had been far too canny to allow such a thing as that to happen - He had planted the seeds of his superiority deep within her mind, early on, and by now the tangled roots of his power and earthly right to rule were twisted and gnarled throughout the Tiger's mind. Of this, Sirius was certain, for she was his most successful weapon yet. It was a relief to come to this conclusion - A weight lifted from his chest. He would not have to kill her after all. How fortuitous.

It would have been such a shame to have wasted her like that, after all.

With that knowledge in mind, Sirius finally left his chamber. The bright light stung at his eyes, and his expression drew into a cold snarl which did well to ward off any would-be interrupters. The monarch would not be delayed - Although the lesson had been taught to her clearly enough last night, now was the time to cement it most firmly into her mind, most permanently. Salvia's dwelling was on the outer ring of the ruins, but his stride was long and purposeful, and in little time at all the monarch had come to its entrance.

"Salvia," His voice, once more the calm, sinuous venom of the serpent, the succulent caramel tones that had sculpted her from the very beginning, curled its way into the silence. He needed no permission to enter her home, and did not ask for it - The greeting was merely a courtesy, to allow her a brief moment to adjust to his presence as he entered the room.

Salvia Eternity · 04-03-2012, 01:28 AM

[html]

(335) blarp, you should be on AIM

Having never experienced trauma on a physical level, she was in turmoil and struggling with the weight of such a thing. Emotionally, she had been broken before—by the same man, of course—and she had recovered from this quickly. By pushing all of the dark things down, she did not need to face them. She became a princess of ice, hiding all emotions and presenting only a persona that suggested power and prowess. The flaws under her skin were faint ones, like fine cracks in a well made ceramic. Some were larger than others now, but on the outside, she showed no flaw. Only one mark remained; it was a high wound, above her eye, small but none the less there.

She sensed his presence long before he spoke. The very air radiated with his musk, with his reptilian coldness. Twin impulses tore at her. It was the stronger of these, the savage dog loyalty, that caused her to rise. Even bruised, even aching and exhausted, she carried herself from her room and into the large central area.

A dark thing stood there, a masquerading monarch whose true face was made of unfamiliar forests and dangerous things. He was feral in the way she was feral; they were both wild things, but wild things refined to pretend. Dangerous things—they were not half so domesticated as many of their southern neighbors. The north bred a hardier breed.

Salvia stood before him, naked in her own home, hair loose and shoulders squared. If he had come to punish her, she would face him as a loyal soldier. Her head dipped, and she approached him as if she felt no fear. It would not due to show him this now, and despite her misgivings, she was Salsola’s first daughter and would honor what this meant. “My lord,” she greeted him formally, but did not move to touch him. This hesitation was the only sign of any fear. He, above all others, would surely understand her trepidation.

Sirius Revlis · 04-03-2012, 02:10 AM

[html]

Word Count » +3 :: <3

She was expecting further punishment. He could see it in her posture, in the way she moved to meet him at the center of the room. The entire dwelling smelt firmly of the girl, her authoritative scent claiming each inch - And yet, his presence alone swelled to overcome it, the sheer dominance oozing from his pores a chemical strength to overcome all else. It was in his very blood, this rule, this strength. She would know that now.

The girl came with bowed head, and although her step was graceful, the hunter's eye could pick each hesitance and each tenderness. Their wounds would be suffered in silence, for each was a prideful beast, and weakness was a thing he had taught her to despise above all else. It was the way of the predator. Only the strong survive.

Her body was bare to his gaze, and with skillful cunning he swept over it, seeking visible remnants of their bloody battle and finding few, finding only curves that had not been there once before, a succulence that confused and irritated him. Narrowed pupils darted back up to her face, loath to linger longer than necessary on proof of the woman that she had become as her dull greeting permeated the heavy silence. "Salvia," He said again, and yet this time, his voice was different - sympathetic, maybe. The venom was there, and in spite of the tigress' raw power, it would seep into her flesh and poison her just the same. That was his power.

He wondered if she was hurting, and in an uncharacteristic rush of pettiness, hoped that she was. Her betrayal had hurt him on a deeper level than the betrayal of any other - She had been given a special place within him, a special level of trust. The hurt there, inside, was a cold reminder of why such emotional attachment could not be allowed to take place.

The King straightened, his height just superior to hers, his weight probably almost equal. Sirius was a lean, sinuous beast; There was coyote in him, where there was dog in her. Perhaps that was why he was a King, and she was a Soldier. "I hate that you made me hurt you like this," The words were perfectly sculptured, natural as they fell from the maw of the manipulative sinner. It was her fault that he had brutalized her in such a way - Not only was it her fault, but it clearly pained him emotionally that she had forced him to such action. The weight of the offense was doubled. "Look what you made me do," His voice ached with such sincere hurt, as one clawed hand lifted to brush away some strands of hair to reveal the cut and slightly swelling bruise above one of her lowered eyes.

Salvia Eternity · 04-03-2012, 02:24 AM

[html]

They were both wolves, but they were not—they were a crocodile and a tiger. By nature both were beasts of impulse. Hunt, kill, consume, repopulate. Neither had room for love within them. Neither could allow for weakness such as trust or the bonds of family. Without compromise they could rise to great heights. Without compromise she could, one day, grow to destroy him. The potential within her was endless, but his carefully crafted words had manipulated a chain of silk around her throat and it held her yet.

She felt his gaze crawl over her and imagined it looking for wounds. Salvia was still a child, and she still did not know what strange control her own body held over her. The addition of weight in her chest and around her hips had been irritable, but she recognized this as something that occurred with aging. Though not as large as her mother, it was apparent she had taken her curvaceous shape from the witch-woman. With hardly any body fat beyond this, though, she was no soft woman like those the Boss favored.

A hand touched her and she forced herself to remain still. Green eyes trailed up to a set a shade darker, a shade seeped with venom aged and more potent than her own. It was done without challenge; she still believed she had this right to look upon him. “I did not think,” her voice came lowly, raw and husky. Her shame was palpable. Only this severe level of self control kept her from flinching at his hand, from arguing as someone might expect from a creature tempered with fire and ice.

Sirius Revlis · 04-03-2012, 02:51 AM

[html]

Word Count » +3 :: <3

The tigress had few natural enemies. She was a proud creature, a strong creature, a fatal creature. Her fangs were sharp, her claws in the like; Her eyes quick and her mind cunning. She was nature's harshness manifested, the bite of cruel winter, the fire of rash summer. She burned and she froze, and she did so with the beat of warm blood, with the decisiveness of a creature born to kill.

And yet one drop of his venom would immobilize her, would bring her to heel. He was not an eagle, like Ezekiel, and he did not soar above her flames; But he, the serpent, did prevail in the dark shadows of the word and of the mind. The fear of him would linger on, long after his presence ceased to. She would obey - He would give her no other option.

The fur beneath his fingers was soft, soft and swollen. His touch was gentle; a claw traced the small scar, too lightly for pain, yet near enough that the hairs along the wound might feel the sharp tip grazing past, and rise in alarm. Her words found tall ears in a voice made rusty by the rawness of her throat, and his harks flattened slowly. "No," He said, and his voice was harsh and barbed, hand falling from her face as though in distaste, "You did not."

For a moment, his face was a stern portrait of command, and an old anger leapt and sizzled in the bubbling acid pools of his eyes. But that, too, elapsed into a false weariness. With a sincerity he did not feel in his cold dark heart, he allowed the anger to slip into gentle frustration, personal hurt. "How can I forgive you for this?" It was a breathy question, asked rhetorically of himself. His hand rose again, now to cup her bruised cheek, the action filled with plastic tenderness. "Do you see the trouble and pain you have caused me?"

Salvia Eternity · 04-03-2012, 03:06 AM

[html]

As young as she was, Salvia had not learned the matters of pretense. She saw glimpses of it between her parents, but it was something she did not understand fully yet. For this reason alone she had no reason to read him as false. Whereas he was well-practiced and experienced in this charade, she was green to it. Never did she hide herself as others did—Salvia charged into the field all tooth and claw, roaring and ripping asunder those who stood against her. She did not know the ways of deception. In time she would come to learn these things, and in time this would warp her further into the tool of her dark god in the flesh.

She watched him, though. She saw every shifting shadow, every muscle shift and flash of fang. There was something captivating about watching the devil work. He strung her along, pulling at emotions she did not know she felt. Her exhaustion made her mind sluggish, and her aching body distracted her further. Dark tipped ears fell back at his words, and her proud shoulders slumped in the first sign of regret.

“Yes,” she admitted, and her voice waivered only slightly. She forced the emotion deep into her belly, where it twisted uncomfortably. “I just…no one has ever hit me like that,” she went on, and looked up to him. “I’ve fought since I’ve been able, Uncle, and I fight for you alone.” There was a hint of desperation in her words. The fear of exile, of slavery, of death were all very real to her now.

Sirius Revlis · 04-11-2012, 09:46 AM

[html]

Word Count » +3 :: so much about them makes me think of Game of Thrones, these days. It's glorious.

She was collapsing beneath the weight of his words, deflating, her cards falling down to the table where he could see them all so clearly with his sharp, chemical eyes. There was no shame for her in this defeat, for he was a self-crowned King of deception, a man who mutilated the truth so thoroughly that none could see the barbarian within him, the terrible beast that hungered for madness more and more each passing dawn.

The soft warmth of her cheek in his palm moved as she spoke, in such a small voice, such a defeated voice. Warmth curled in the man's reptilian blood, but his eyes remained as cold and immovable as ice, as toxic as acid. Her own gaze, such a powerful shade of lime, lifted to meet it; A thing she and few others dared to do. And her voice shook with undercurrents of emotion, threads of fear and despair that his flickering forked tongue could snatch from the very air, and add to the volatile concoction of deception and manipulation that ran, as blood, through his very veins. He was a charlatan King, a false deity - He was a madman and a genius, and she was the tiger chained by his side. It was such a fine line they walked.

Her fear was justified. Solomon would have paid for the girl with her weight in gold, and the hard hollow men aboard his ship would have made good use of the tiger's lean body. There was little doubt within him that even she, so young and invincible, could be broken by the cruel fist of the world beyond her King's false love. And there was much that he could buy with the riches her life would provide - He could be done with her, like that. Brush his hands of the girl.

But no, loathe as he was to admit it, she was far too precious for such a fate, far too valuable for even the likes of a slave-trader's gold. He could not afford to lose her to her own disobedience. More chains needed to be thrown about her throat, more of the spider's silky webs to bind her in place. "You fight for me alone," His dark voice echoed her sentiments, and the bitterness in his gaze was sharpened, excruciatingly. The hand that cupped her face seemed suddenly to be a threatening weight, but only for a moment; For then, his black lips bowed up in a smile. "Yes. Serve me well, Salvia. That is all I ask of you. That is all I command of you," He opened his arms, bidding her to close the cold air between them and take his own form in an embrace. "Serve me well, and fight for me alone."

Salvia Eternity · 04-13-2012, 11:57 PM

[html]

What existed beyond Salsola, and indeed beyond this island of their home, was a foreign place to her yet. She had seen it in glimpses, but her training had not allowed for true exploration. It was only her truest and most terrible ability that kept her moving: adaptation. She was ivory and steel, and she would surrender herself to this false King and this false love to survive.

So she watched him with her interested tiger’s gaze, green eyes telling but not half so transparent as they had once been. Her clear-cut jade was now frosted and unpolished, carrying smoke within it where none had once been. If he had taught her anything by this violence, it was that control was needed. While she dared to look at him, she would not allow him to see everything. Salvia’s face remained passive, her body still even as she felt him tense—she would not fight him again, not while her still-tender face reminded her of his true strength.

She hesitated for only a moment, as if unsure as to what his motion intended, but moved forward none the less. Her head dipped under his throat and she offered him a singular lick of her pink tongue as proof of this submission. Against his body, a body which had only hours ago threatened to destroy her, she felt his warmth and welcomed it. One hand rose and lingered low, below the savage wound she had dealt him. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and meant it.

Sirius Revlis · 04-25-2012, 09:59 AM

[html]

Word Count » +3 :: can archive whenever :>

There was only a slight pause within her, and one he expected, after the last time their bodies had made contact. Then, it had been a primal thing, two beasts exploding into action as their instincts took control, leading them down the dark and unyielding path of destruction and violence, the path that their hot blood and wicked eyes commanded of them. But now, in this room and by the frail light of a bitter Northern day, they were dressed in the pelts of civil creatures, standing upright and claiming a love that neither really knew the truth of. If Sirius were to know, then, of the loss that would soon befall both he and her, perhaps this sentiment they shared would have been more sincere.

But even he, cursed with a serpent's silver tongue and the ingenious wit of a madman, could not see into their cloudy future.

Her body folded into his, but where once there had been gaps and spaces and leanness against leanness, there was now the unfamiliar warmth of curves, the gentle plushness of what, in spite of its hard muscles and toned physique, was undoubtedly a woman's body. He was not slapped with surprise and yearning, as he had been prior - This time, the bitter man expected it, acknowledged it with grim dismay. Salvia was a woman now; The troubles of which would undoubtedly be revealed to him in time. She was no son, no heir to his throne; She was a daughter of the wilderness, and her gender alone made her more of a risk, more of a liability, to her King.

Her head slid under his bearded chin, rubbing against him in what was unmistakably a feline manner. The man's black lips twitched, and his arms held her close, held her strangely tight. She was warm in his embrace, and her words were spoken into plush, dark fur. "I know," Came his quiet reply, voice surprisingly weary, weary of the effort she had cost him, weary of the paranoia that overcame him even now, when she felt so sinfully pleasant and warm within his grasp.

Unable to allow himself the pleasure of lingering, the man allow his arms to fall limp, and he took a step back from the bruised and battered Salvia. Acidic eyes were unreadable as they bore into her. "Luna's colt, the grey. Take him for yourself, if you wish it. He will be bold, and strong, as you are, and he will require a firm hand to guide him," As you do.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?