Proud Queen

[Amy Sunders]

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Amy Sunders

Word Count → 000 :: Out of Character text.

Amy had the wagon tucked up behind her. It was about time she came back to her trade route. Relaxing at the home she had made for herself with Kohaku was nice, but at the same time it didn't give her the drive that she carried when trading. It was more addictive than the kill for her. Each item was carefully piled in, Kohaku old enough to walk outside the wagon now. Well, maybe not quite old enough, but he'd be doing it anyways.

Reaching the court's border Amy pulled the horse to a halt. It was the same border as always, silent. Lifting her head Amy let out a deep howl into the air, calling for those who wished to trade. She would be open for any opportunities. Especially ones from those too ignorant to protect themselves from her manipulation. Smiling she looked into the pack, waiting for someone to answer her call.

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[Orin Takekuro]

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LOL Could Amy have found an easier target? :: Word Count :: 400+

There was a call at the borders and something about the voice made her feel that it was someone who was supposed to be there. There was no apprehension, no soft notes of one who had happened upon the pack by mistake. No, it sounded more like, ‘I am here to benefit you, so come if you are worthy.’ Not that it was those exact words or anything. Oh, if Orin only knew what she was about to get herself in to.

Luckily, she left her brood at home today with their daddy, Marstholomew, citing another afternoon off from the land of mommydom. They were older now and slowly weaning from her milk, and it was easier for the father to watch after them. In her Optime form, body still somewhat chubby with the baby weight she had put on, Orin meandered down one of the many Cour des Miracles trodden pathways and toward the call.

As she strolled over a knoll the stranger that called finally came into view. There was a blond woman there, standing as self assured as the call had made her sound. But what was even more intriguing was the horse and wagon. For a moment she slowed and wondered if this was the trading cart from Cercatori d’Arte, but this was not anyone she had seen before. No matter, members were joining and leaving all the time (as she herself had done) but as she came closer the buggy did not look like anything she remembered in d’Arte.

Her eyes were on the wagon and filled with wonder until she was almost right up in front of Amy, and then they finally turned to look at the merchant woman. If she only knew who Amy really was, that she was the one causing so many problems for her daughter’s pack, she might have tucked tail and fled, reported her crimes to Vigilante, and had her done away with. But instead, all she knew was that there was a cart full of wonders inside, and Orin loved herself some new shinies.

“Merry meet,” she greeted, offering the woman her hand. “I’m Orin Takekuro. Any chance you’re here to trade?” There was a wide smile on her face as her eyes once again turned to the cart, and she wondered what kinds of treasures the woman had tucked away inside. With a swipe of her hand, she tucked her dreadlocks back over her shoulder. If she was going to be looking through product she needed them to be out of the way.

Photo courtesy of Alaskan Dude

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[Amy Sunders]

She was resting next to the wagon, wondering if she could drink some alcohol. Perhaps she should try and kill the child growing inside her. That would be wrong though. As much as Amy would like to do so, this child was a Sunders, or at least until it was otherwise proven. She'd never found herself hoping that something would go wrong so hard before. A pale female with pink streaked hair stepped over the hill. Amy placed a warm smile on her face, doing her best to look like someone to respect and appreciate. She wasn't some scruffy loner after all.

Amy accepted the hand, shaking it with a large smile on her face. Merry meet. Yes, I am here for trade. My name is Amy Sunders. If you wish for it, I can deliver it. I can open up my wagon so you can view the goods more readily. It wasn't anything complicated, simply the ability to pull up the canvas that covered the wagon to allow a view into her tightly organized cart. It had to be, to fit the abundance she had in there.