[aw] casting shadows, throwing sparks
#1
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(504) One or two. I swear, this is the last weir-related thread I am doing forever, but this is all I need to do for Pescador Job, so NYAH.



Eris is by me!

It had been nearly a year since Salsola's foundation. It was during the early weeks of spring they'd formed, and now the world had again turned to spring. Evidence of it was everywhere -- tiny sprigs of green growing here and there in the ruins, up from the grasses. The dark-furred hybrid had passed through the garden prior to attending the weir, and she was pleased to see the ground already being churned and tilled for future planting, though she was unaware of the culprit, as of yet. The Luperci scents around the area were quick to fade, masked by the scent of new plant life. Some of last year's growth was already returning, and the dark-furred woman hoped to gain a wide array of new plants this summer.

For her part, Eris wished to prepare for their celebratory feast. To be sure, much of the planning and hunting and fishing would have to directly preceed the event, for Salsola's meats should be fresh -- but the dark-furred coyote saw no reason to delay using the newly completed weir, either. Dried and smoked fishes could also be consumed during the feast -- they would want a vast array of things, to be sure. Such variety would surely stand as a testament to Salsola's strength, and all in attendance could revel in it.

The coal-furred woman meandered along the riverbank until she came to the weir and the creek, peering down with a grin. The tide was going out, and she could see the silvery forms of the fish congregating near the stones of the weir, their frantic silvery forms unable to overcome the weir with the rapidly falling tide. Cross the creek, and get the other side of the net, she commanded to Molcaxitl, who obeyed quickly, wading across the river. It rose to her midsection, but no higher. On the far side, she stood, waiting for Eris's command, with the pole in hand. The net stretched across the river, and Eris nodded. They began to walk downstream.

With only a small gap between the netting and the weir, the Auxiliary and her slave ceased forward movement. Eris laughed aloud and pointed to the frothy, roiling water -- there were a great number of fish, too many for her to hope to capture. Some were even capable of leaping over the weir, though they landed on rocks and stunned themselves before flopping back into the main Pictou river. These few escapees did not concern her -- with a constant ability to capture quite so many fish, what did they care for ten or fifteen who managed to find freedom again? Eris leapt into the water and began pulling fish out of it. Molcaxitl crossed back over the river behind the net and began making ready those her mistress tossed at her. Most of the fish were killed by the dark woman before Molcaxitl snagged them, but one here and there lived, flopping around on the ground by the slave.

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#2
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Oh hero, hope ya don’t mind me jumping in here :3 /+308


Fish. Ezequiel could finally place the weird scent assailing his nostrils as fish.


The hybrid had been wandering casually when he had first detected the smell, far away enough that he couldn’t place it. Now that he was close enough that the smell was strong enough for him to place he wrinkled his nose in distaste, Ezequiel hated the smell of fish.


Still Ezequiel's dislike for the smell was overpowered by his curiosity at what was causing it; in Ezequiel's experience fish tended to stay underwater where the liquid separated their smell from the rest of the world, just where Ezequiel liked them. Following the scent trail took him towards the border and presented him with the sight of Eris thrashing about in a river by the side of a miniature waterfall, throwing fish to another canine.


Ezequiel's ears dropped through confusion at first, though he noticed and kept them there as he approached, head cocked to one side quizzically; Ezequiel's dealings with Eris had been limited to his joining thus far and it was safer to offer too much submission to the female's tastes than not enough until he knew what behaviour she expected from pack members. "Hóigh, Madame Eris." he called out, muzzle wrinkling once more from the smell as he made his way closer to peer curiously at the waterfall. Upon closer inspection the waterfall appeared to be artificial, perhaps created specifically for the purpose it was being used for. "Cad é an rud aisteach, odd but effective." Ezequiel mumbled as he gave the weir a look over, mostly talking to himself though the words would be loud enough for Eris to hear. He spent a few more moments looking it over before tilting his head towards Eris, though his eyes were kept low, "Did you make this Cúnta?"


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#3
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(479)



Eris is by James!

The water around her was choppy and roiling with the fish trapped there. Her legs were battered by their tails and bumped by their bodies -- it was as if she stood in living, alive water. The hybrid snagged the biggest fish she could find, leaving the smaller ones, and heaved them over to Molcaxitl. When the dark woman felt their amount was suitable, she moved out of the fishy water and into the creek, moving behind the netting. When she reached the other side, she pulled down the net and walked it back across the river, much to the relief of the fish trapped between the net and the weir. They rushed upriver quickly, for the current was not so great as to cause them any great hindrance. The dark woman grinned as she rolled the netting about the pole, looking up to the bank as she did so. Ezequiel's greeting reached her ears, and the woman grinned toward him.

Hello, dearest Ezequiel, she said. Though he was new to Salsola, he had earned the right of Family by virtue of mateship -- certain treatment toward him was expected of her. The dark coyote was not so foolish as to blindly trust, however, and she did not exclude the idea of betrayal from her mind. It weighed there heavily, as it tended to, and the dark woman could not relinquish her paranoia. Such was the price of leadership, she supposed -- there was always someone lurking just around the corner, waiting to steal her pack's power or her own position away. She needed to guard it fiercely, but part of that was establishing trust with her membership, she knew -- perhaps not in quite so concrete a way, but the sable-furred coyote did at least understand her own power was partially derived from the approval of her people.

Yes, she answered, shaving herself off. The bank was not very steep here, and the hybrid clambered up easily, standing beside Ezequiel to look at Molcaxitl. The slave woman was trying to carry several fish up the bank, and Eris made a face as she dropped one. The idea of the weir was not her own, nor the labors that had gone into it -- most of it, anyway -- but it was her project, all the same. Salsola will always have a supply of fish, she explained, grinning. It works well.

Molcaxitl put down the fish she'd carried up and started back down the bank for the next batch. There were not so many it would require more than one other trip, but it was quite the start -- especially considering the fugitive fish that had darked back up the creek for the safety of its upper reaches. How are you doing? she inquired, curious to know what had transpired before Ezequiel since his acceptance to the pack. Your mateship, your sister?

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