SEVEN BILLION SOULS — MEETING & ORIENTATION [08/03]

[ceilidh]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border: 0%;width:50%;text-align:justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px;"]Naturally drawn to the scene, the ginger tabby came breezily to the throne room, her brow quirked in a hefty expression, lips trickling downwards on her sharp face. She kept her front up, guarded, but softened and intrigued by the gathering of the Rosebloods. Isolde had seen these faces before, Sola, and her Advisors Felix and Prestige. Flinty pools of phthalo blue followed the tracings of the three, though the rested primarily on the leader, ears nodding to catch the words of the ruler. It was a new period in her life, but she could hardly tell with the apparent transition into life that the Rosebloods were making. The renewal of prosperity and anticipation was seamless, and she allowed herself to flow along the river with the rest of the figures around her.

But she made her way to the front, entranced by Sola's calling. The cheetah stood out to her of them all, obviously a powerful force she could look up to, as if she'd been designed to do so. When the dust settled from the meeting, her eyes trained blankly on the bowl, which had now become the object of interest amidst the orientation. There was distrust about the liquid, whether it was poison, blood, or polluted water, she didn't care. Isolde would drink from it, she must. It was a binding act of loyalty and respect, not blind trust. If she, personally, wanted to truly feel like a member of the Rosebloods, she would commit to drinking the wine. So she stepped forward, her body solid but her movements fluid, peering down into the blooming pool. The tall figured longhair had cut through the room in complete silence, in the midst of the talkings of the other Rosebloods. For this moment, she didn't try to flaunt or bring attention to herself, though her aura seemed to blossom with a sense of calm brightness and cold strength.

The feline did not smell it, did not try to figure out what it was, but only looked towards Sola before bowing her head to taste the liquid. It danced on her tongue as she lapped it up, and after a few moments, she stepped back, head tilting up high before she turned back to the rest of the gathered animals. The taste stood with her, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth to soak out the red wine, before running the muscle through her teeth, exhaling gently. Without a word, Isolde returned back to the crowd, taking no interest into the conversation at hand. She lacked a proper opinion on whether or not the orientation ritual was sufficient or not, because it didn't pertain to her. Isolde was meant to simply do as she was told to earn trust, not combat the system and try to grow her own. Instead, she would just listen in, her head tilted idly to look towards the others speaking, chin held up but the rest of her hanging like a willow.