The man that so soon was about to challenge Larkspur’s size had taken only a slight detour before he began to make his way to the Boss’ lair. Rocks, metals, bag and the stiffening carcass of the rabbit was dumped off close to home, but the true treasure’s weight remained dangling over his broad shoulder. He was beginning to feel her weight, and had found it necessary to switch shoulder from time to time to avoid growing a slick ache, but it wasn’t much to speak of and nothing to complain about. Salmon tongue leaped out to moisten black lips, and he thought of the cold piece of rabbit that would await him once he had delivered his package.
It was rare for Pandemic D’Angelo to seek out Sirius, but it would likely send an immediate signal that he had a valid reason for doing so. The Family member had never managed to warm up to the uncle with the crown of thorns, but the need to prove that he was still useful despite living part time in Freetown for educational purposes seemed to grow dire within him. The D’Angelo wished others to see his worth, and offering a newly captured slave at the King’s dirty feet was a start. A year or more from today, the son of the Associate was likely to be knowledgeable enough to practise blacksmith on his own and open a workshop, but it was far away and he thought it would be worthwhile to pick up a second profession of sorts while he had time off from his teachers in the trade town.
He had obviously delivered a good blow to the woman he was carrying, for she had been out for hours now. If he remained lucky, she would remain unconscious for a little longer. Once he reached the outskirts of the area that the Boss claimed as his, he paused, unwilling to invade his King’s quarters without allowance. Scent suggested that Sirius was home, though. ”Sirius?” the dark voice of the Arbiter’s son growled, slightly hushed. ”It’s Pandemic. I request an audience.” Drawing a deep breath, he waited.
The Supper had been successful, as predicted, and the pack had fallen into a quiet state of semi-peace since the delivery of all the news. Change had taken a hold of them, and it was with sullen reluctance that daily life continued. But, even in the bleak Northern lands, there was much to be treasured in the slow change of the season. Winter's bitter talons had begun to ease their deathly grip on the slopes of the upper borgatas, and the ocean's bite became a little less frosty with each passing dawn. Soon, the treacherous lands of Salsola would unfold their gluttonous bounty once more, and the hard work for storing up for the next harsh winter would begin.
For now, Sirius was allowed lingering moments of solitude in which to gather his thoughts. The wound on his arm still ached, but the searing pain had long since died down into an unpleasant itchiness as the muscle re-knot itself for a second time. The scar there would undoubtedly be permanent, now, and the King frowned as he absently rubbed the bandaged arm with one idle cream hand. The monarch was slumped in his throne, a huge stone chair central towards the rear of his chamber. The floor was neatly ordered, a luxurious assortment of pelts making a huge bed-pile on one side, and a large wooden chest storing most of his valuables on the other. But even with the presence of the King, the room had a sharp chill to it, as if the air itself resented any intrusion.
The hand lightly itching at his stained bandage moved lower, to rub at one wrist. Beneath his silky cream fur, both wrists bore bruises and the small pink remains of many small cuts. Even his own gentle touch there elicited a deeper scowl, as memories of the fight with Salvia bloomed forth in the man's wicked mind. She had been dealt with, though, most thoroughly, and it satisfied him to know her own wounds were grieving much more than his.
As though conjured by the unbidden thoughts of his sister, a familiar voice permeated the still air. Sirius had been too lost in his own musings to be attentive to the approach of the male, whose heavy footsteps would otherwise have easily given away his nearness. The monarch jerked to attention, his black lips peeled back, large ears flattened in an instinctual reaction to the shock. Did Pandemic know? Had he come to take revenge for the King's beating of his sister? For a moment, his reptilian blood ran cold as ice, and the paranoia within him readied the man to kill Pandemic D'Angelo.
But the moment passed almost instantly. It was foolish to think that Salvia had told her brother of such a thing - His Arbiter was far too steeped in her own shame to ever voice such a thing. He had made sure of that, with his magic tongue and his deadly venom. Besides, nothing in the hulking male's tone spoke of aggression, and Sirius was of the belief that Pandemic was not a creature of any kind of genius, much like his father. He would not be canny enough to hide such a thing from his voice. There was nothing to fear, here. Grateful that his reaction had been hidden by the crumbling stone wall, Sirius took a moment to compose himself, sinking back down into the throne. "Enter, Pandemic," Came the sinuous voice, the long caramel drawl that his subjects knew so well. The man's creamy fingers came together in a contemplative apex, as his toxic eyes awaited the sight of the other.
The dame hadn't shown signals of waking for anything throughout the endeavor to Pandemic's home, and she remained limp throughout the trip.
It felt as though she had spent mere minutes within the numbing pall of her subconscious, oblivious to the world around her, and it wasn't until now that she had begun to stir. Minty, jade gaze cracked open, her blurry sight further smudged, and near completely dark. A wheeze hissed through that slender chest as the woman came to in this unfamiliar place. It hadn't yet occurred to her that she had been moved, her mind still in the grips of its healing subconscious. The doe sucked in another deep breath before it wrenched and caught in her throat, ribs heaving as she coughed and wheezed, body aching from being carried over a shoulder like an item.
It took her yet another moment more before she realized she was still dangling from the stranger's shoulder, much to her displeasure, and she struggled to piece together what all had happened. The dame's lips tugged into a grimace as she tried to push herself away from Pandemic's shoulder, limbs trembling a bit with the attempt, still feeling the weakening effects of the blow to her crown.
Down...! the dame muttered, throat dry. Put me down, put me...!
Mint and milk gaze turned about, trying to examine where she was. The mottled-coat fae fell silent after a moment once she failed to find any of the surrounding region familiar, and she seemed to shrink against the charcoal beast's shoulder.
Take me home, please... she requested timidly, the entire situation overwhelming and frightening.
;_; I'll be gone for a few days, so idk, if you guys don't wish to wait, you are permitted to move on without me and powerplay Pandemic lightly to get the thread going! Whatever you choose!
The promise of a sweet taste became spoiled on his tongue, as the temporary silence from his leader’s approval was interrupted by the now muttering burden on his shoulder. The commonly worn grimace returned to his wolfish muzzle; young teeth unstained by age peeking through slightly parted, blackened lips. Another moment was spent listening to her drowsy blabber. She wanted him to take her home. Fair deal. A guttural laugh escaped his lips, and he moved to enter his King’s quarters. You are home, he sneered, throat vibrating darkly with his words.
The arm that held her tensed considerably to ensure that she wouldn’t immediately manage to wriggle out of his grasp. It wouldn’t do to lose face in front of the Boss. Gray eyes travelled to the throne where Sirius Revlis sat. Had the D’Angelo male known what he had done to his dedicated sibling, this meeting would have held a different air, and blood would have been spilled. Fortunately, Pan had not been in Salsola when the incident had happened, and he had yet to discover that the one person in the world he held dearest kept secrets from him. He was oblivious, and it was for the best.
No doubt the man before him had noticed that he had returned from Freetown, but the two had not spoken. Pan knew that he should have come sooner to ensure that he had his leader’s blessing. He would have come closer to grant his King the proper greeting, but stayed on a slight distance to lessen the chance that some freak incident with the awakening female would occur. For my favourite uncle, the black man rasped, A gift, And with that, he dropped the woman—not kindly—before the throne and the dangerous Emperor seated on top of it. Pandemic’s massive head turned down towards the dirty floor in a stiff bow.
A dark shaped loomed within the dim light that spilled in from the doorway, and as pupils engorged themselves on the brittle brightness, the shape of Pandemic D'Angelo came into focus.
He had over his shoulder a strange shape, which from the mottled grey and tan fur, and the scent that curled it's way into his seeking nostrils, was a wolf. A female. Brows puckered slightly over the thin rims of acidic olive - This was unexpected. Sirius had been certain that Pandemic would eventually come declare his presence to his king; If nothing else, Larkspur or Salvia would have ensured that the hulking black male follow appropriate protocol. Perhaps Freetown had made his pack-mannerisms rusty, and that was why he had come late to show his respect to the ruler of these lands.
It was well known that the leaders of Salsola delighted in being gifted objects of value. Their attention and favor was just as easily bought as it was earned. But being gifted a life was not a usual thing, not even in the land of thistle and thorns, where morals were as twisted as the vines they grew on.
A deep voice swelled in the cool chamber, and Sirius' pricked ears took a moment to identify it as Pandemic's. The youth had grown into a man - There was much change within him. Black lips curled up at the corners, pleased with what his volatile eyes saw. Eris had not been pleased with his decision to send her son away, away to the sinful western world, so different to their own. But Sirius had been firm in his command. There was too much potential within the D'Angelo to allow it to be wasted - He had not the wit nor cunning of his sister, but rather an immense brawn, one that would perhaps become greater even than that of his father's. The choice to had Pandemic become a smithy apprentice had been an easy, if cold, one for Sirius to make.
But as he looked on the fruits of such a choice, there was no remorse in the man. It did not occur to him that the other might have missed his family, or that they in turn might have missed him - Was was such petty emotional weaknesses in comparison to what Pandemic would achieve, what he would learn? To Sirius, they were as nothing. His reptilian heart knew no other way. "Salsola welcomes you home, my dear nephew."
The woman was slumped to the floor at the foot of his throne. Sirius' eyes lingered on Pandemic's, boring into the down-turned head, his gaze cold and certain. His sister had recently shown slight rebellion, the likes of which had only been allowed due to the strange relationship she had with the King, and the immense value of her life. Pandemic would be awarded no such free reign. Sirius would not tolerate disobedience within his upper ranks - Could not, for when one was the leader of such powerful beings, any show of weakness or slack in control could easily end in death.
Finally, his gaze lowered to the poor creature on the floor. The man rose slowly, his tall, elegant form lanky and lean in comparison to the bulk of the other male. He stepped forward, large foot-paws silent as toes spread to support his weight. He stopped before the woman and crouched down, one hand aiming to gently, but firmly, clasp her jaw in it's grasp and turn her head side to side, that he might evaluate her as a man would a horse before purchase. "Where did you find this one?"
Welcome to Salsola! As a new member of the pack, you're ranked as an Associate. We strongly encourage you to read over the Associates page of our website for further information about your rank, promotions, and other relevant things.
As a new member, why not:
Start plotting with your fellow members -- start or join an Open Thread on Salsola territory.
Figure out if your character wants the Cotona ritual to take place, and where on their body they'd like the scar.
Figure out which of the Jobs you'd like and let the leadership know which you're considering.
Check out our pack game and start earning points! You can claim a residence in the Borgatas Colotl or Coatl after 50 points in the pack game (note: residences outside these two areas are free).
Add yourself to our Directory, and please remember to add your character's animal companions to our Stables! See Salsola Maintenance for further information.
Familiarize yourself with the pack's leaders and make sure you contact one of us if you encounter any sort of difficulty or require any assistance. You can send us a Private Messages or post to the Salsola Maintenance thread.
Every instinct within the dame's skull pointed towards flight, though no motion was made to follow the command, other than a faint tremble of her bodice. A faint wince was evident as Wander thumped to the floor, yet she remained statue-esque. She was rooted to her spot, frozen, and the hybrid continued to stare blindly at the floor as though the bits of her shattered psyche were laying in shambles by her hands. Needless to say, the wolfdog was stunned. Struck dumb. Unresponsive.
What on earth was going on?
She was no gift, not by any means, and even less of a prize. Why on earth did that charcoal beast bring her to such a strange place? Why was she brought to a superior? She remained crumpled on the floor, shut down from her surroundings as she mulled over the havoc in her cranium, seeking explanations, piecing together scattered thoughts.
Slowly, she seemed to respond as soon as that slim maw was handled, lips curling lightly in a fearful response, though no growl had come. Cocoa and charcoal tresses that had fallen in front of her face lightly slipped aside, the doe not bothering to move it in her shut-down state. Nares failed to test scent, a give-away of her stress and trepidation, and harks remained pinned to her crown, blinded sights staring vacantly to the thorn king, minty irises peeking from behind those lengthy bangs.
It took a moment more for the dame's brain to lurch back into motion, causing every slim, sinewy muscle to clench as she suddenly seemed hyper-aware of her surroundings. Soft squeaks slithered from tightened jaws.
I-I want to go home. Please let me go home, she muttered to this new stranger, distress lacing every word as she pulled her maw back from the firm grip.
Gray visuals stole a glance at his earthly superior, oblivious of the nature of unrevealed thoughts of his demise. Pandemic wasn’t in a similar position as his sister; he didn’t have the privilege to allow his feet and heart to spawn roots within these lands. While far from an actual outcast, his emotional paranoia often hinted this.
The young man’s slight bow was given extended depth as he was welcomed back from his absence. The poisonous eyes before him recognized him, at least. It was good to learn that he had not been forgotten. Not that he thought that he would be. Pandemic was not a complicated creature. While not exceptional simple, his wits were heavily outmatched by his sisters. He had been born to a worker’s position, and manual labour was to be his area of expertise. Not every canine could raise hammers of varied weights to work and form metal day after day. It was his physical appearance that had gotten him this job, not passion.
But thoughts had no business scraping at shallow hurt. His King was pleased, and brought the corners of the black man’s lips slightly upwards, though his face appeared feral as he did this. I found it in No-man’s-land; north, by the river; close, black lips guarding cruel blades of ivory pronounced.
Blackened ears brushed against the back of his skull as the creature dared to address the King directly, but it was up to the King to decide to allow this act or to choose to discipline. However, a snort escaped the dark child of the D’Angelo, mildly amused at the female slave’s hopeless situation.
