The meeting

Siaka nodded, she followed Sarunus to to front door then went out to her car and collected her duffle bag. She follwed him once again back to the room, this time picking out things she would remember so she could find her way at least to a few places in the house.

She dropped the duffle bag uncerimoniously onto the bed, the contents making a muffled thump. She sighed and started to take out slim knives from her thin camisole from the sides and back and put them next to the bag, then she started taking them out from the waist of her jeans and finally the bottoms of her flip flops. She shook her head and unzipped the duffle bag, taking out a measure of black suede and laying the knives on it then folding it in half and rolling it.

 

<span style='color:white'>No idea, don't know what's around here, don't even know the house. Although it limits paranoia, anyways... I dunno, if I were to see some part of the house I'd like to see the basement, only because your mother said it was a bad idea, otherwise tis up to you.</span> She said, rezipping her bag and moving it onto the floor.

She took a seat on the bed, waiting for what Sarunus would say. She put her arms behind her and looked up at the ceiling and then looking around the room once more. Damn... it was still a big room, though she didn't like the TV much, personally she'd never had time to watch TV, but in this case, it took away something from the room, if she had been a designer she would have known what, but she wasn't a designer so she didn't.

 

Siaka leaned against Sarunus a bit when he put his arm around her.

<span style='color:white'>I'm not scared... I'm just more used to killing rich people, not falling in love with them.</span> She said, kissing Sarunus lightly at the corner of his mouth.

<span style='color:white'>Clothes I should be fine with, I mean worst comes to worst I get one of my more conservative skirts out and put on a jacket.</span> She said, smirking. For her conservative wasn't the same thing as what most people thought of.

 

<span style='color:white'>Another thing that seperates the rich ones from the rest of us is that if we grow up without that much money, we don't miss it, or care for it.</span> She said, smiling up at him.

She sighed, it was somewhat blissful, but she felt herself give off an aura of dismay. Not sure what at she looked around the room, half-expecting to see a corpse or something at the window.

<span style='color:white'>Your family doesn't partake in necromancy by chance do they? Sorry for the bluntness, but there's a metaphorical 'white goat' somewhere in the house.</span> She said.

Siaka reached out with a tendril of other-worldly power that came from her grandmother. It went through doors and crawled over and through furniture and artifacts, looking for the blasted 'goat', she'd always felt bad for the victims, not the chickens and goats, but the beings.

 

Siaka's eyes were distant, glowing a faint purple as the shades of maganeta started to shift.

<span style='color:white'>Well, I think they started again. Although I must admit, they've got good taste of... zombies. Raising a corpse three centuries old for any reason is a pretty big job.</span> She said, her eyes returning to normal as her power receeded, though not before she let it wash over Sarunus. As if to tell him that she wasn't new to the game, that basement was very interesting.

<span style='color:white'>I can wait, but I'm not about to do anything if they raise an animator, that would just be stupid to say the least.</span> She said, taking his other hand in both of hers and running her fingers lightly over his palm.

Raising fell necromancers never worked out, they were flesh-eating and did not have to listen to their 'master' but it really wasn't any of her business.

 

<span style='color:white'>My father's mother was Anubi, and none of the tainting, though she married a pendragon so, my dad isn't pure. Anyways, I guess it's an inherited talent of sorts. She was an animator, more commonly known as a necromancer. She would raise the dead for a living. I can't do it nearly as well as she did with my other inherited traits, but I've got some of the power, enough to make the dead listen.</span> She said.

She mulled over how to explain a white goat, it was really quite simple.
<span style='color:white'>Okay so to raise the dead you need to sacrifice something, you know make the circle of blood and used the new dead to revive the old yadda yadda. Usually you use chikens, or if it's an older corpse a goat. If the creature has been dead for 150 years you need something more, it's called a white goat, but it's really more just another 'dragon. Kill them to raise another then if you want raise the one you just killed or capture it's soul.</span> She said, it was probably the most she'd said in the last week.

 

<span style='color:white'>No, the monsters I'm okay with, I mean it takes one to deal with one. It's just the terror that comes off the white goats...</span>

Siaka could taste the fear, it was refreshing, and the fact that it felt like she could bite down on it made her desire it. Some of the lycan community had told her what it was like to desire flesh and Vampdragons had told her of bloodlust, but ah, never terror.

<span style='color:white'>But tell me, do you have any idea what kind of monsters they raise? If they're playing Dr. Frankenstien with corpses I want to know. Whatever they've been doing won't scare me off. Promise.</span> She said, nuzzling him.

 

<span style='color:white'>Guns are useless, don't bother.</span> She said, rummaging through her bag.

She pulled out an odd armband and tied the leather strings in intricate knots, the skin and feathers that went over the leather once having belonged to a trisk. Another gris-gris followed, this one she put around her neck, a foot from the same trisk was gripped around its own eye, having been touched by her power the eye began to roll from where it was held captive until seemingly satisfied with its surroundings. Finaly she took out the last foot of the trisk She placed it in the palm of her hand and watched as it painfully clawed its way up her arm and came to rest on her shoulder.

<span style='color:white'>I'd let you have one, but judging from the look on your face I doubt you'd really want to touch it let alone wear it, and the fact that these are 'blessed' to respond to my soul.</span> She said.

 

<span style='color:white'>Well use some logic, you can't kill the dead. Vampires and the like you can kill, they are the undead. Zombies are just corpses that walk around, listen to a master hopefully and the little bits you blew up keep coming after you. You want to kill it you use fire.</span> She said.

She sighed and shook her head lightly. Trust her to bring a civ into something like this, even if it was their family. Zombies listened to one master, unless there was another necromancer around, in this case her. With any luck at all that little bit of Anubi blood would channel.

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class='ooc'><tr><td>My last post until probably Tuesday, I'm going to be in London so probably no computer.</td></tr></table>

 

<span style='color:white'>Well if their maker told them too there would be nothing to stop them, and I mean literally nothing. Although you never know... they don't like fire.</span> She said, with that thought another hit her.

She whistled quietly and Veja appeared at her shoulder, crooning and rubbing against her gris gris. He knew what they were and they didn't bother him that much except that they were trisk, and that was not her animal to call at any given time. She stroked the bird's head and looked up at Sarunus, his eyes were fearful, with that undertone of pain. She had a great urge to hug him, hold him against her and tell him that everything would be fine, anything so that he didn't look so voulnerable. Though she knew that he would shy away from her at the moment, the gris gris and the power still crawling over her skin in loose tendrils.