luck must fight over me
#1
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Setting Location Form NPCs
Location: Western Borders, IF

Date: 04 August

Weather: Overcast

Time: Early afternoon
Optime
Nacht


(439)


Above rebellion and underhanded threats, what Salvia disliked most about her new position was the duty of dealing with Others. She had, in the way Salsola demanded, grown to look down upon strangers with disdain. Whatever the outside world had was incomparable to her Kingdom. Still, it was expected that some profit was to be made by these would-be alliances and dealings. Siv had spoken of the northern packs as potentials, and when the blonde woman had mentioned this to Sirius he had said that the witch had come to him as well. It annoyed Salvia to think she was being brought in secondary, but her role was that of a secondary place. Perhaps, and soon, she would see to it that it was her ears that news came to first.

So it was that she, obligated or not, rode east. Salvia went alone, having rejected the idea of taking another for company or even bringing a slave. It would be better to go without a secondary pair of eyes or ears. Nacht trampled across the low-point of the river, splashing his belly and her feet with cold water, snorting and eager all the while. This was the first journey for him outside of the territory, and the yearling was eager to see beyond the borders. Discipline was the only thing that kept him from prancing and tearing off like a colt, and Salvia was glad for it. Still, even she was not immune to the sheer energy rippling through the black yearling’s heavily muscled body. She turned him loose even as she guided him towards Inferni’s borders.

They flew across the plains, a massive black beast and pale rider, muted by a sky the color of slate. After several long miles the horse slowed and Salvia eased him to a walk, deciding to clean the sweat from his skin before they reached the borders. She stopped once to eat a bit of dried meat and drink from a stream, using this to wipe down her horse while he drank deeply. Once both had satisfied their needs, she remounted and rode the last hour at an easy trot. Nacht’s gait was smooth and rolling, and she wondered if his unknown father was responsible for such a thing.

By high noon (though the sun was blocked by the thick, mist colored clouds that blotted out the sky) she could make out a pile of skulls marking the far edge of Inferni’s claim. Salvia pulled Nacht to a stop and gave him his head to graze, and still on his back, let forth a long wolf’s howl for the clan’s leader.

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#2
A crow landed on the fence, cawing loudly. It hopped down to the post, bobbing its head up and down. Myrika paid it no mind at first, but the black bird cawed again. Its cry was more insistent this time, cutting through the ever-present fog. The hybrid looked up from her stall-mucking and put the rake off to one side. She glowered at the bird, but it cawed again, bobbling its head up and down. Myrika went for a feedbag, pulling out some grain. She trotted over toward the crow and held out her hand tentatively.

It pecked at the grain viciously, devouring it in a matter of moments, but never did it injure her hand. When the grain was gone, either down the bird's gullet or scattered to the wind, it looked at her and blinked black eyes, cawing again. It made another noise, a more garbled one, and Myrika blinked. Wolf, it croaked. The redhead peered at the bird curiously, but nodded. It flapped black wings and took off from the post, heading in the direction of the pack's western border.

Myrika took a moment to clean herself off, rushing into the house. There wasn't much she could do, but a quick straightening of her hair, application of a bandana around her neck, and shaking off the dirt was about all she could do. Trotting toward the borders, the hybrid soon heard the call emanating from the borders. The bird was right, as always. As she passed Hollow's Ruins, she heard their noise. She might have to offer a better reward later, but for now, she must attend to the presence at their perimeter.

She was close enough to have not needed a horse, but upon seeing the stranger mounted, she wished she'd taken the time to saddle Cahal. Her stallion would not have made such an impressive sight as the dark one, but she might at least have been at a level with the stranger. Still, she swallowed whatever reservations she might have had and smiled instead, nodding toward the woman. How can I help you?
#3
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From her height advantage, Salvia was able to see the stranger approaching. She was tall for a coyote, and a dusty color accented by cinnamon-rust. The Cicerone took her in as one might observe a horse—looking for signs of good breeding, weakness, anything—and this aloof gaze soon met with one of true turquoise. Salvia had seen stones of this nature in Freetown, and thought of them as she listened to the woman speak. Recalling Sirius’ instructions and warning (keep your temper in check), she swung from Nacht’s back and landed lightly on her feet. The two canines were nearly equal height (though the coyote was taller), and Salvia was further impressed by this. Whatever freak genetics had caused such an event left little trace of anything beyond coyote, and while she was positive there had to be more, she did not see it upon her first sweeping glance.

She looped the two loose leather reins around one arm, giving Nacht more than enough room to graze behind her. Salvia did not smile or express any real emotion; all that came was that interested tiger’s gaze. “I’m here on behalf of Salsola,” she explained, cutting to the point. “My name is Salvia Eternity, Cicerone—second in command,” the young woman added, thinking it might aid her to do so. Even now, she was thinking of how to speak, how to respond—even guessing what she might be asked.

“We’ve offered no discourse since the war, and I sought to reprimand that. I apologize for not sending a message,” she added, thinking of Magnolia’s bird. “But I wanted to come myself.”

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#4
The woman on the horse was no less impressive than her mount. She was clearly a wolf, possessing a timberwolfish coloration and brilliantly green eyes. Her introduction drew a perking of the ears and a straightening of Myrika. She nodded, considering the woman. Though Salsola and Inferni had come together to smash a common foe, Myrika did not think even Ezekiel had considered them friends -- and she knew even less about them. Now, she was their leader. I'd heard an aunt or cousin or something of mine led Salsola, she said mildly. Had she expected a Lykoi? Perhaps a de le Poer? She remembered Kaena's warning about Eris -- but this was a different Eternity, it seemed.

Myrika Tears. I lead Inferni now, she said. Ezekiel's gone. She'd said that rather often lately. It's no problem. Maybe we should have sent someone, but things have been a mess lately, what with the change in leadership, she added, shrugging. Is there something the matter? She was thinking of their attackers again -- perhaps Salsola had been attacked once more? The hybrid kept her composure, but curiosity was drawn plainly on her face. She'd heard so little of their closest neighbor, and what little crept through was not all that positive.
#5
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The knowledge of their blood relation was something that Salvia found slightly surprising. She knew that her mother bore blood ties to the coyote clan, but seeing said relative face-to-face was somewhat underwhelming. Salvia had no clue as to her true bond to this woman but accepted that some thin bond kept them as family. Her body shifted slightly, taking the weight from one leg to another, a mild motion that almost appeared lax. Even now the blonde wolf was on guard and prepared for attack—her loose stance was as much an illusion as something the witch could concoct.

Salsola had known Ezekiel had gone. Well, Sirius had known, Salvia recalled. It had been part of his reasoning for sending her forth, and while she thought to remark upon this, she held her tongue. “We’ve had our own change,” she purred instead, smiling in a savage way. “My mother has stepped down, hence my arrival here today and not her own.” Not that Eris would have come to Inferni. Even Salvia knew that.

“There’s nothing wrong,” the Tigress explained. “It is simply my wish—and Sirius’—that we continue our homes’ friendship. After all, we are neighbors,” she paused for a moment, looking the tall woman up and down. Her gaze had become further intensified as she looked for common similarities, for proof of this bloodline. “And kin, as you say. We should not be strangers, especially when we’ve come to find common…troubles.” As she said this, one hand brushed against the deep, straight scar on her breast. The wound had healed, but the scar never would. Above this, the arrow-head necklace and feathered serpent lay, heavy and constant.

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#6
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OOC summary: Myrika is super sassy and then suggests that Salvia might be after an alliance.


A pair of mantis-green eyes swept over the tall woman, admiring her brash speech and steady tone. Even though she was dealing with an obviously green leader (though she herself was green) the trimming of the fat certainly suited her style. Salvia’s mouth curled into a tight-lipped smile in spite of herself; it was a peculiar thing, like a cat caught in the cream. Even though she was honest in that smile, and open, her eyes and whiskers said another thing entirely. Make no mistake, they whispered. I will rip you asunder.

“An alliance might suit us, Aquila,” the blonde woman continued smoothly, using the title Sirius had badgered into her mind. He didn’t know her name, only that she was a relative of Gabrielson, and that was all he offered. She did not press him, recognizing the venom in his eyes as something far more sinister than what he normally carried. There was none of that in her face, only that silent warning—that interested tiger’s gaze. “What would you ask of us? Something like what we had during the war?”

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#7
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(348)

Though the woman smiled, Myrika's unease did not abate much. She had spoken boldly -- perhaps too much? Though she'd already begun to second-guess herself, the redhead did not have enough time to thoroughly reconsider and append a nervous concession to her previous speech before Salvia spoke. The other leader even went so far as to address Myrika as her title -- Aquila. It still sat awkwardly on the tawny woman's head, though the corners of her slim muzzle did smile, and retained their smile as the other woman spoke.

Hm, she said, a noise to indicate her thought. First, I think it might be best if all Inferni and Salsola's leaders met together to formally decide, at some point in the future. But, I'm also glad we have this time to set down some ideas. It was good that she and Salvia both could return to their co-leaders and discuss this meeting and prepare for a future one, in her opinion -- though she did not know how, or if, Salsola would accept such a thing. We might meet in a neutral location, like the war, she said, half-heartedly waving a hand toward the thick patch of sunflowers growing between their packs.

I don't intend to let Inferni get into many wars, but we'll defend ourselves if attacked. And our allies, too -- but that wouldn't mean if Salsola decided to invade another pack without reason, we'd stand behind you, she added. Neither would I expect Salsola to cater to Inferni's mad whims, if I happen to get kicked in the head and wind up having any. Her smile broadened into friendliness with the mild joke, but she was quickly speaking again. I think the horse herds are our best bet for building a solid foundation. Inferni's got a co-rank dedicated to their care, she explained. And I think it's best if Salsola does the same, maybe? she suggested. I wish we could build a corral between our packs, but that doesn't seem likely.



Myrika is by Alaine!

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#8
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(306)


This whole world of politics was a new one to her. Salvia was used to intimidation to get her way, but such things were not suitable when it came to others. She had, in her limited experience, seen that the instinct to fight was one most creatures favored. The fact that so many refused to flee surprised her, and she often wondered if such a thing was because they had changed into this new breed of animal. Salvia, likewise, had no clue that any wolves existed without this—she was limited in her vision of the world.

There were things suggested, such as who would fight for who, and even though the woman’s joke was understood, a shadow flickered behind Salvia’s eyes. Such madness had to live beyond those borders. Why else would they mount skulls? Then again, her own home routinely offered living sacrifices to various gods. Who was she to think of them as savage? The thought made her smile darkly.

It was, unsurprisingly, the talk of their mutual livestock that brought her to full attention. Salvia was pleased to know the coyotes had given thought to this. “One of our ranks is meant for such a task,” she explained. “But I do think a secondary position, especially for those wild ones, might be needed. We haven’t had any trouble yet, but enough fools pass through and might find our horses easy pickings.” She left it ambiguous as to what—it wouldn’t surprise her if some idiot would actually hunt the damn things.

“Salsola also intends to travel to Freetown more frequently. If your clan wishes to send goods with us, that can be arraigned. We have strong connections in the south.” To what ends, of course, she also left out. It would do her no good to openly brag about their slave trader.

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#9
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(--)


Myrika is by Kiri!

We had a poacher, Myrika said, bringing it up quickly. Just one, so far -- I've checked the horses since then myself, and we hadn't lost any, but if one of mine hadn't been there, the hybrid said, shrugging. In a generation or two, they might be able to phase out the half-domesticated horses of the Boreas wolves. With feral-born horses, unused to Luperci, they would certainly run and defend their own better. That would make them more difficult to capture when it was necessary Inferni and Salsola should have their horses, but -- still, it was not impossible.

Freetown, huh? she said, eyes bright with interest. Didn't Ezekiel... she broke off, considering. Didn't he come with you once? Not you, I mean, but Salsola? she shrugged. Maybe I could come along on one of these trips. She'd want to bring someone of Inferni with her -- Remy, maybe -- for a desire not to be alone of Inferni amongst Salsolian canines, but she liked Freetown well enough, and what better way to forge a better relation with her neighbors than to get to know them? Some of the horses there -- at least the ones not broken down from long years under saddle without good care -- are beautiful animals. Sva... something, the pack is called? she suggested. Those would be good horses to add to the bloodlines.

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At the word poacher Salvia’s spine prickled. It boiled her blood to imagine some mongrel thieving off with one of their horses (never knowing, of course, her own father was a horsetheif) and she sorely hoped that whichever coyote had caught the beast had taught him a permanent lesson. This hardly showed on her face though, which remained carefully controlled. Her eyes, even, failed to betray her—though perhaps there was the reflection of fire in their ice, if one looked closely.

Before she had a change to brood too heavily on this idea the taller woman went on speaking. It took Salvia a moment to realize what was being mentioned; that trip had been a private one, as far as she was concerned. “I believe so; Sirius and he went together once. He had some dealings with my Boss,” she allowed to slip, and shrugged in a non-committal way. “I certainly have no issue with you joining us.”

The blonde woman nodded in agreement, her eyes bright and excited at talk of something she knew inside and out. “I saw them the last time I was there; maybe we can see about working something out with them. Between our horses and the wild ones, I’m sure we could find something to suit all our needs.”

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#11
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(324)


Myrika is by Raze!

The redhead nodded. She wanted to ask when they were going, but the plan seemed to be a vague, future sort of thing: and anyway, she'd need to clear her absence with Vesper, and let the scarred Centurion know about her absence. Myri was loathsome to walk away at this particular time, with her current unrest, but perhaps absence would do them good? Or maybe Myrika would return to find Inferni and Vesper both hostile to her. The thought, apprehensive and paranoid as it was, leaped unbidden to her conscious thought. Vesper would never do such a thing, though, and Myrika was quick to dismiss it, instead focusing her mind on the good that could be obtained by this dual-sided trek down to the southern trading town.

Thanks. I've been once before, and I'd love to see the place again. Especially for the horses, she agreed. There was always need to be careful in Freetown when trading for horseflesh -- there were plenty looking to off a broken-down animal for whatever price it could fetch, and still more with no intention of returning to Freetown (and therefore unmindful of their loosely-enforced rules on shady trading). Such animals were a gamble even to use for breeding purposes -- one could never tell when a breeding defect or long years of abuse and neglect had injured a horse, after all. Otherwise -- trade, is it, that Salsola likes? It's tough to figure your lot out, the redhead admitted with a grin. Give Inferni a skull to hang on our borders or a solid weapon and we're happy, but there's not much to be learned about Salsola.

I'm certainly not asking for the pack's secrets, she clarified, holding up her hands. I wouldn't give up any of Inferni's. But I would like to know, if we were to trade, what is it you'd find most valuable?

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#12
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(304)


In a selfish way, Salvia was glad to hear that Myrika had only been to the city once herself. This would be Salvia’s second trip, and first as a leader. It would give her a chance to re-familiarize herself with the landscape, especially with Pandemic’s assistance. She would make sure to memorize the lay of the land as much as she could before returning, and in that same thought, realized that finding someone capable of cartography might even further suit her needs. Imagine having a truly accurate map of these lands, especially if (and when, she thought with little doubt) war came again.

A thin smile cut across her face at the mention of her home’s mysterious nature. The idea of them having let too much on during the war had been a fear of Salvia’s, especially having spent so long away from the battlefield. Myrika’s further (and perhaps unwitting) admittance to what the clan desired lessened her fears that giving away such simple information might harm them.

One of her hands rose and made a sweeping motion, as if brushing away Myrika’s defensive posture. “Trade we can speak of freely. We look for things of value; crafts, trinkets—items that some might not see purpose in.” Such as jewels and gems. Even Salvia had begun keeping these, intending to trade them elsewhere. Her own decorations were simple; the two necklaces and ring were all symbols and potent sigils of her very existence. “Livestock. I suspect your clan might see the worth in that, at least,” she flicked one ear dismissively, fairly certain most might see no value in the items mentioned before that.

“If you wish,” she went on, tilting her head thoughtfully. “We can at least settle a trade agreement today. It isn’t an alliance,” the girl clarified. “But it’s a start.”

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#13
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(353)


Myrika is by Aly!

Myrika herself valued jewelry and trinkets, along with other such baubles. The redhead liked to draw attention away to her too-long body by decorating her upper parts. It was this for this reason she'd pierced her ears -- even risking drawing attention to those overlarge things -- and always wore a necklace. Most frequently was the one that had been a gift from her father, but there were others, more pretty, she exchanged for it sometimes. Her bandannas served the same purpose. She did not see them as trinkets displaying wealth or value of herself; they were simply deceptive techniques she had learned to employ as a teen. At least decorated prettily, it was made apparent she was making effort to mitigate her unlucky lot in countenance and stature, and therefore the Thornloe canines would relent -- somewhat, and only temporarily.

The woman listened with rapt attention to the wolf's description of her clan's desired goods -- she understood them all fairly well, and was already contemplating what in the way of crafts Salsola might value. There was a faint scent of sheep about Salvia and perhaps her horse, as well -- it was apparent Inferni's wool would be of little value to the canines of the Drifter Bay extremity. The words "trade agreement" perked her ears, and she contemplated what that might entail. A trade agreement? Sounds like a good pair of words. What does that entail? Her voice was friendly and curious, but it was curious and faintly suspicious of Salsola she was truly. She intended to enter nothing without understanding it fully. Their united front against a common enemy meant little in day-to-day living. Life and death being on the line tended to elicit strange responses from the canines involved. We'd trade fairly with each other, go to Freetown together, things like that? She supposed such an agreement could be entered upon without Vesper's council -- but there was already rockiness between them. And yet -- trade was good, and trade was just that -- trade. It did not mean they had to enter Salsola's wars and conflicts.

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The smile on her face could not melt the ice in her eyes, but the flames of eagerness were lapping up into their pits. Salvia did not fully grin; her bloodline had cursed her with a grin that made her look half-mad. “It ensures,” she explained, choosing her words carefully. She had been educated in the ways of Salsola since she was a girl, but to her length of memory, they had never formally invoked the covenant before. “That we would trade fairly; a first look at things, a chance to offer before others might. Likewise, we would ask the same for you—obviously both sides would be given freedom to take business elsewhere, once the other had seen it.”

This would best allow Salsola, for example, to pick out things that might sell better in Freetown (or, with the Captain’s help, in London) should the coyotes not desire the trip. Such things, she further thought, might make trade with the Southerner’s possible. The distance was simply too long for Salsola to bear the weight and effort, and why not lose some profit in order to save their own muscle? The idea excited her and filled the girl’s fast-working mind with a thousand possibilities. “It’s an unbreakable pact,” she warned cooly. “To make it is to give a vow.”

Her eyes, that sharp and summer-bright shade of green, were watching the tall woman carefully. She had no idea if the coyotes would value such archaic ideas with the same honor-code of Salsola, and certainly doubted it, but hoped that some part of them might understand the importance of such a thing.

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#15
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(--)


Myrika is by Kiki!

The redhead did not want to question the ways of Salsola, but there was one lingering on her mind that did not leave her. I understand. And what happens when you make this pact with another group? How can you show both Inferni and, for example, Anathema, something first? Or -- if Inferni's the first to achieve such a relation with Salsola, would we always have such first rights? There was no suspicion in her voice, again; the question was asked purely of wishing to avoid misconstruing the woman's intent. Would they send scouts to both packs simultaneously, considering the "first" to be done both ways on her end? The redhead thought such might prove to be a system with some flaw -- it would easily cause offense if, in her proposed scenario, both Anathema and Inferni desired the entire quantity of whatever it was Salsola had to offer, and both attempted to claim first rights. If that was Salsola's plan, however, to incite chaos between the packs, it seemed like an entirely convoluted one, requiring a series of successful chances and extremely lucky circumstances, it seemed. However, Myrika still wished to ascertain her understanding of this pact was complete before she agreed to it.

She almost wanted to apologize for the directness of her question, but Myrika had learned that directness in some dealings was best. In speaking to an underling, she might have to coat her words with more niceties, but here she and Salvia were fairly equal. Though Myrika possessed the home advantage, the redhead neither wanted to offend their closest neighbors and common ally against the Boreas wolves. Their playing field possessed no great disparities, as Myrika saw it, and neither were there witnesses to their conversation. She therefore spoke more boldly than she might have had they been on poorer or better terms, and even more so than if either of them had subordinates present.

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#16
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Trading had always been a complex, two-faced affair. She could provide honestly to one but not the other, or deceive them both. This was why the blonde girl leaned on her elder leader’s experience, though her mine was quick to dissect and work out the pros and cons of each decision. To her, the simplest answer was the preferred. This challenge brought a thin smile to her face, as if finding the idea funny—and in her own way she did, though her amusement was more towards the idea of Sirius contending with this woman as opposed to the golden coyote.

“Not all places value the same things,” she explained, and then shrugged and showed the palms of her hands. They were dark and hardened, bearing no scars, though under her crème fur there were bruises and blemishes a plenty. “If our pact is made with two, then those two would be shown together. It would come down to which of you valued the goods more. Some things we might limit our gratitude towards; not all wolves are capable of producing items of value.” Her use of wolf was not intended to suggest that she thought Anathema (or any pack) lesser than the clan, but Salvia was wise enough not to suggest that the coyotes might make inferior goods.

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#17
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Myrika is by Kiri!

Myrika considered the timberwolf with eyes the color of a sunny day's sea. Her ears swiveled and perked at the particular mention of the word wolf, and it took a spare moment to remember the clearly wolf creature before her was -- well, a cousin of sorts, and with coyote in her veins. Some ancestor of hers, most likely a mother or even grandmother, had emerged from Inferni and had not looked back. The redhead contemplated this quietly for a moment, considering the woman's words. Perhaps it was merely a fancy way of saying they'd bring Inferni what Inferni wanted, and Anathema what Anathema wanted. Myrika settled on this interpretation in the end, and nodded.

Okay, she said, simply, and paused. I believe this is something I should do. She'd almost said "can" -- but stopped herself before that treacherous word could escape her mouth. She was the Aquila now, and could do exactly as she liked, in theory. Do we speak words or perform a rite? she inquired, this question more deliberate. She knew little enough of their neighbor's customs, and did not herself hold entirely true to Inferni's. Words were spoken upon a coyote's entry to the clan, but words did not always mean loyalty followed.

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#18
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Eris had never been forthcoming about her family, so while Salvia recognized their blood-bond, she did not consider this woman anything more than a stranger. Kin gave them only so much right and familiarity, and even her own sisters (and more recently, brother) had slipped into the place where no love could reach. They remained above others, but only just so—Salvia could not afford to show weakness in affection and gentle words.

The woman—Myrika—agreed to the vow. Though she was remarkably pleased, Salvia allowed only a thin and ferocious smile to grace her face. One hand moved to her side, and to the well-tooled leather bag. Within it were various trinkets, but one in particular was brought forth. It was a cloudy, small glass bottle capped with a age-stained cork. “We call this the Covenant of Salt,” she explained, willing to give the Aquila this much information. It might help to aid the questionable honor of her home. “I’ll put some in my hand, and you in yours, and we’ll shake upon it. The salt seals the bond here, and above the earth.” It was an old form of alchemy long forgotten, and even Salvia, with her intelligence and her tact, knew little of it. A woman like Siv might have recognized the power in the bond for what it was; Salvia only saw it as power because of Salsola’s weight upon it.

She cupped her hand to show Myrika how to do so and uncapped the bottle. A gentle tilt poured a small amount (perhaps a third) of the contents into her hand. She offered the bottle to the other woman, green eyes rising to meet that clear-sky blue.

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#19
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Myrika is by me!

There were rituals and traditions of Inferni she did not understand. And yet, the longevity of their existence and the brevity of her own time in leadership made her hesitant -- to say the least -- of changing them. She'd found the clan's laws just and sought only to shift the hierarchical system by which the canines arranged themselves. There was not so much within the coyote clan that she thought needing of her guidance -- it had existed long years before her, after all.

Turquoise eyes watched with interest as the wolf who was her cousin moved for her side, drawing out something shining and small. Her coyote ears perked to Salvia's words, and she nodded her understand of the ritual. It was quaint, in her eyes, but she supposed all of these things served purpose. Perhaps they were art, as was the written word? Surely she of all canines realized the purpose and use of writing and reading, and so she did not even think to scoff at Salvia's words.

Instead, the Aquila nodded solemnly and actually smiled. I like this. She did not wish to presume to speak on its origins, but offered a tale of her own. In the book Ezekiel read, followed perhaps, there was such a thing. Ithiel would be able to quote it to you, but I can't. Look it up sometime, if you're interested, she urged, though that was all the urging she'd do. The hybrid stepped forward to take the small vial and poured a small bit of the salt out onto her hand, looking down at it a moment before her gaze rose to meet Salvia's. She waited patiently, allowing the other woman her lead: this was Salsola's ritual, not Inferni's, and she would not presume to usurp Salvia's right.

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Simple. That was the word Salvia would have used. She was a simple creature herself, albeit it one tempered by trials of a world that lived with rigid discipline. Between the tri-fold crux of supreme secrecy, a devotion to gods of war and blood, and the unbending will of her Uncle, Salvia fell back to what she trusted. Simple things were easy—and she found that the law of this was infallible.

Yet simple as she was, Salvia looked at things in both the large and the small. Her mind was above-average, as if she had taken her brother’s intelligence in the womb, and she observed with the kind of unromantic (and indeed, cold natured) distance that came with one who does not love their work but instead has accepted it without any resentment or need to prove themselves. Power proved this. The blonde woman would function in this manner because it was easier. She could not be hurt if she felt nothing.

“My uncle is the one who founded this rite,” she explained, and extended her arm. It was thicker than Myrika’s, and in her subtle way, the handshake was a test. Salvia’s grip was firm and tight, and she was eager to see how the coyote would respond to such pressure. “But maybe when I return I’ll speak with your Ithiel,” the girl offered, testing the name and sensing it was archaic like the book described.

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