Starglow Basin We're bad people and we do bad things

@Osiel whenever! If you have time <3

As she found her feet again, Tierra knew she needed to meet the man who had replaced Soto’s brother. She’d seen him around, and the two of them speaking on occasion, but she wanted to talk with him herself.

She had an idea. It was crazy, and she needed more than stilted Spanish to describe it, but Tierra did not want to die. And as far as she could tell, this idea might be the best chance she had at not doing that. The best chance any of them had, maybe.

It was slow progress, looking for him. She still felt lethargic without the green. Every day was a new temptation to just give in, to indulge again. She wasn’t sure she could resist if it was in front of her. But this was her punishment, her way of both honoring and forgetting. She chose the pain that was easier to live with, but also the one she that drowned out so many other thoughts.

It was hard to focus. But she’d manage.

This woman Soto calls Sangre. He has watched her. He has decided she is unlike others. She does not seem to take pleasure in butchery.

She seems to take pleasure in nothing.

Her red approach is stark against bleached skies. Osiel perches atop the mount as gargoyle, overlooking the expanse of barren territory commanded by Verapaz.

“Sangre,” she is met with a deep red stare to match the stains of her coat.

It’s Tierra, actually. Tierra Redhawk. She hadn’t bothered correcting the impression up until now, and really, she didn’t care what they called her anymore. But for this conversation it mattered.

Normally she’d rely on wiles to get what she wanted. But if that didn’t work on Soto, she knew it wouldn’t work on him. Aside from that she just really didn’t have the heart for it these days.

I know the ones who attacked us. They would listen to me if I called. I don’t know why all of this shit started, but I could make a deal. They leave us alone and we leave them alone.

They’d already killed one of them. What would be the point in killing more? They got their kid back and they ran the gang out of the valley. They’d already won.

She was tired of looking over her shoulder and waiting for another jump to happen. She didn’t give a fuck about revenge. She just wanted it to be done.

Hard eyes are drawn from the flat valley to the red face of the cazador. She speaks with conviction, moreso a genuine desire to cease violence. She seems convinced. Osiel is not. 

“You know how it ended, sí. You and Soto in bad shape. I have no intentions of sending you back there, Tierra Redhawk. At present, Verapaz has nothing to offer. No trained diplomats to negotiate. You place a high value on one voice. The voice of a woman who last month attacked their kin. Stole their child.”

Their cazador was not expendable. More assured of this is he after hearing her mind. The ocelote remains unswayed.

He didn’t believe her. She felt her irritation flicker in response, and couldn’t stop it from coming out in her tone. Lately it was getting harder and harder to hold in her temper.

I didn’t steal anything. I attacked him because he attacked us, and it isn’t like I didn’t pay for it. She wasn’t about to let him dismiss her out of hand. I was a warrior at one of their outposts. I trained under their general and I guarded their celebrations. They won’t attack me. My name means something here.

Her mother was a matriarch of the wilds. Her grandmothers had been queens of the coast. Tierra hadn’t seen most of her family in months, if not years, but she fully believed in the influence she could trade in if she wanted to. She wanted to be someone new here but that someone hadn’t worked out. It was time to see if Tierra could fare any better.

“You think pack wolf cares for details? We are a conglomerate to them. One in the same. You run with Verapaz, you endorse every decision made by Verapaz.” It was the simple, brutal truth Osiel was dealing with. Why Soto, and Saya cast so firmly within his sights. One slip up could topple an empire. And here they had yet to build one.

He looks into Tierra’s eyes and wonders if she knows what her name means to them.

Tierra. Land.

Her eyes are intent. Confident. She'd had a mate killed, the ocelote knew. Another casualty. Is it from this pain she speaks, or something else?

“Come back with an accord, or don’t come back at all.” Patrón’s offer. She would prove her salt, or they’d be cut free of foolhardy pride. 

Tierra had run enough diplomacy missions for Germanicus to be sure that Osiel was wrong. Before she could argue, though, he made her an offer. It didn’t matter if he had no confidence in her results. All that mattered was that he agreed to let her try.

If he was right then she was fucked anyway, right? So it wasn’t like it mattered.

You got it. She grinned, the first one to feel close to real in a while, and turned to go. So long as Soto didn’t screw anything up in the meantime, this should be easy peasy. She’d wait another week or two, let her injuries get to a reasonable spot, then hop over to Akashingo. They went nuts for formalities and were all into being treated like the sun shone out of both ends. Flatter them, make a deal, then get the hell out.

What could go wrong?

It’s the most vivid he’s seen the sangre woman. She’s been in this game longer than the others. Still, the ocelote wonders how to parse her. He watches her leave with a flicker of attentive crimson and decides it will depend on the manner of her return.