i don't know what i want, but i know what i don't - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: i don't know what i want, but i know what i don't (/showthread.php?tid=7523) |
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- Urma - 08-19-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-20-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Sorry for the wait! >n< 500+ The beauty of the rain sang, ringing within her soul with familiarity and pulchritude. She could remember now that song, and she could listen now without the confusion of her Dreams. The question of the pups had been put to an end with their birthing and the revealing of their eyes (and souls). The woad-marked warrior knew that she must be patient still until the songs of war could be heard again, and so, for the pups she had whelped, she would be patient. And the song of rain that sang quietly within the greyed world was enough to satisfy the warrior’s restless soul. As she moved through the dampened woods as a shadowed wraith, she listened and she remembered and was at ease. The rain muddle the scents of the woods, and she could find no clear path to prey. Had she been alone as she was accustom to being, such a thing would have been no predicament. But she had those mouths to feed, and she knew that she must keep her own body fed to accomplish such a thing. The black fae paused, the woad bound ears erected. There was a long, questioning howl upon the wind, rising and rising before falling into silence. Had the black fae been farther from the boarders, she would not have answered that call. As Cercelee had said, it was important for her now to uphold her responsibilities for her pups for there would be others to take up what she could not do for the first two months of her pups’ lives. But the boarders were near, and there was still a promise of game nearby. Like a flitting shadow she turned, her path now set upon the one that had sent the question upon the wind. A question rose upon the air, and was a white fae with eyes of gold sitting at the boarders. And Cwmfen approached, her strides long and fluid, her grace transcending the earthly. And the black face, lit only by the white orbs and the woad upon her fur, held nothing but a strange tranquility as war had enlightened her, and as if she fought for passion. And then the movement ceased, although when she had ceased was uncertain such was her grace. The woad bound paws held her a spear’s length from the boarder as she considered the other, the warrior’s calculating gaze falling over the features as she scented the familiar mark of Crimson Dreams. "Is it Lubomir that you seek?" The alto melody wove an obvious statement that danced as a falling leaf upon the air dark with storms. The gracefully erected posture of the black fae was natural; it held no arrogance, nor even the need to represent the ranking titles that she held. It was simply the pose of one who carried a peculiar understanding of the physical. And as the warrior was still, she held her silence, that obvious query a prompt for the one who lingered upon the Dahlian boarders. - Urma - 08-20-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-20-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ The white orbs held the golden eyes with unnerving ease, and yet she held no challenge or domination within them, the intensity but the wild songs of war. An imperceptible smile moved across the tranquil maw as a single confirming nod was given in reply. It seemed as if the wolves of Crimson Dreams had a strange attraction to the wolves of Dahlia de Mai. Urma sought Lubomir just as Anu had sought Colibri Haki. Perhaps it was not within the same manner, but the warrior could not help but notice. The woad-banded ears drank in the white wolf’s explanation. Cwmfen knew that the wolves within these lands shared histories that preceded her arrival to Dahlia. She knew very little of these histories save for the occasional tale she heard upon her travels. Yet, she did not doubt that the words spoken were true, for she felt no treachery within the Crimson Dreamer. There was but a brief silence before the black fae offered a reply. "I’m afraid that I don’t know where he is," the soft alto admitted. "He may be working on the Dahlian libraries once more," she mused aloud. But the warrior, having met him personally only once before, knew little of his habits. She was not a social creature and so watched over her pack mates from afar. The woad bound maw was dipped in greeting at the given name. "Cwmfen nic Graine," the Adonis offered in return. "I am afraid that I can offer you no more," the melody sang formally. Briefly, the double-banded aurals flickered back apologetically before retaining their erected poise. Urma had no doubt traveled a great distance to see ‘an old friend’, and Cwmfen was not able to provide a satisfying reply. While she had been pregnant, she had encountered many packmembers, socializing beyond what she would normally have done. Yet, now that the pups had been born, she saw very little of the members save for when they came to visit her. As Alexey had revealed, the pups required much of her attention, and the warrior knew that she must give her attention to them and relinquish the warrior’s path for two moons more. "When I meet him next," the quiet melody continued, "I will tell him that you were here." A brief pause ensued whilst a soft smile was given. This was a brief meeting indeed, but the warrior had business with the hunt, and she knew that she must return soon to her hungry children. She considered also the possibility of danger befalling them, and, while Onus too watched over them, he too must continue upon his mission. "I must depart, as I need to hunt. You may linger to see if he answers." The soft melody sung with a strange formaility as the words of dismissal were given. Because the feeding of her pups was a necessity, it did not occur to the warrior that her sudden need to depart may have been rude, nor did it occur to her to comment upon her state. With a final dip of her maw, the fluid movements rose up once more as the Raven Dreamer turned to leave, the Kill Feather whispering as the wind moved it through her mane. - Urma - 08-20-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-20-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ Another soft nod was given in response. While Cwmfen had not seen Lubomir since the early spring, she had heard that he had taken up the task of completing the library once more. The silent female said no more save for when the white fae countered the suggestion of waiting. "He is ambassador here as well," the Caledonian lilt informed, "and he may not be within the packlands." It would be ideal for Urma to not wait, the undertones spoke, and Cwmfen would indeed hold her word. She would tell Lubomir that ‘an old friend’ had come to visit. And so content with the brief encounter, Cwmfen had turned to leave. The black fae paused, a paw still lifted as the woad-banded ears swiveled to catch the voice that offered. Slowly, the paw was placed upon the damp earth as the warrior turned to look back at the white female upon the boarders. There was a moment in which silence seemed to emanate from her. Those white orbs held the golden gaze, a mild curiosity moving through them as the half-light of the storming day made them dance. The silence was drawn out, lingering heavily in the air as the soft sound of the rain filled it. "You wish to help me hunt," the alto song rose in question. It was an unfamiliar thing, to hunt with another. She had not learned to do so until her arrival within the Dahlian pack. It had been Slay who taught her to hunt with another, and she had done it once more with the turning of the new year—a pack hunt. But since then, the black fae had hunted alone, feeding off rabbits and mice and the occasional beaver. Until Onus had provided for her in her time of need, she had never tasted fish. And so the offer that Urma made took the warrior aback. It would be an enlightening experience to hunt with another once more. At length, an amiable smile crossed the tranquil maw, and she turned to fully face the white fae once more. "I accept your offer," the soft melody replied formally, "and I thank you for it." Once again, the woad-bound maw was dipped respectfully, not in greeting but in gratitude. Rising, she considered the words of the golden-eyed fae once more. "Larger game would be more efficient." With mouths more than her own to feed, it would be ideal to fell a larger animal so that she may return to feed upon the carcass in the days to come. And the weather of the day was optimal for the finding of deer, for the air cooled by rain was inviting. "Come," the warrior called. "We can hunt within the boarders." The warrior was not concerned with the danger that Urma potentially posed; while she sensed no ill will within her, should things fall badly the warrior was more than equipped to handle such a thing. Again, the black fae turned. This time, she paused to wait for Urma to follow before disappearing into the dangerous grounds of Demon’s Trail. - Urma - 08-21-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-21-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ The warrior walked, speaking only with silence. Her gait was calm, the fluidity as it once was. There was an easiness about her, a contentment. From the time of her last battle with Brennt nearly three moons ago, she had moved very little, the wound upon her leg most hindering and the pregnancy heavy. Even after the birth of the litter, she had been held within the confines of her own den, watching over the fragile lives and feeding them. It was now the providing of her young that drove her, and she had placed her duty second. "I thank you again," the alto melody sang, her voice rising above the silence that she seemed to command. Briefly, her eyes turned from the path upon which she tread to behold the white female at her side. "I have pups to feed," the tranquil song explained at last. But that was all that was said in explanation. The black fae was of silent tendencies and spoke only when necessary. And she found it necessary now to express her gratitude for the aid that had been easily given. Yet, her aptitude with verbal expression was lacking, and she knew it to be so. Occasionally the woad bound ears would swivel back to make sure that the Crimson Dreamer still followed close behind. There were times when the path she chose forced them to walk single file. The sudden drops carved by water were dangerous, and she did not wish for Urma to be injured while under her supervision, for now, within the packlands, the Head Warrior and Adonis became the outsider’s escort, and she was determined to uphold that responsibility. Still, the woad-marked fae wondered at the other and the quality of the other’s person. "Watch your step," the quiet melody advised. "There is only misfortune for those who fall." The soft lilt of the Caledonian-Korean fell silent. While she spoke almost casually, her intent was far from such a thing. The answer that was given, or any word that was spoken, would allow the warrior insight, for the subtle changes of tone, of breathing, of confidence, was something that her ears were trained to hear, and she would hear them within Urma. As the land opened up once more, the black fae paused, her maw lowering to the earth as she scented the air. Deer had passed by only moments before. Cwmfen’s white orbs briefly turned towards Urma, signaling silence. The hunt had begun. Slowly, with that strange, ethereal grace and with that wraith’s silence, the black wolf led the Crimson Dreamer about, moving through the occasional cover. Her paws chose silent paths instinctually. The eyes and ears and nose of the warrior worked to find their quarry, and there was a wild intensity within her gaze. This was no battle, but the hunt was invigorating after those months of stillness. There—ahead, she found several stags, grouped with the easiness of creatures not within the rut. It would be dangerous quarry to hunt one, but the older of the three was weathered and weakened by the many seasons he had seen. Without looking away, the warrior said, "That one, the older," with a voice so quiet as to be lost in the silence of the air. "You may have the kill, if you will take it." For Urma’s given help, the warrior gifted the right to kill. - Urma - 08-22-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-24-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ Urma’s silence told the warrior that the white fae was either familiar with the dangers of such treacherous footing or arrogant. While the raven female did not turn her gaze upon the golden-eyed Crimson Dreamer, she did not think that the latter was the case. A mild curiosity wondered at the path that had been taken by the white wolf, but the wolf was silent, focused now upon the scents of deer and upon bringing down flesh to be devoured for the hungry pups within her den. Already, the white fae moved to approach the prey that the black wolf had chosen. A soft smile moved across her maw as Urma poised for the attack, and Cwmfen, who had followed close behind in silence, paused. She did not doubt that this wolf had skill in the hunt, but the warrior had skill also in battle and in tactics applicable in the arenas of war and hunt. The woad-marked she-wolf made a subtle signal—curt but not curt enough to draw the attention of the prey animals—to urge Urma forward and to align herself either abreast or ahead of the eldest stag. Cwmfen herself would backtrack and move across. The distance that each wolf had to cover would still cause difficulties, and there was the possibility, although the warrior did not believe it to be highly likely, that the others would not flee. Yet, it as the uncertainty and it was the hunt itself that was thrilled the black fae. She did not expect each hunt to end successfully, but within each failure there was something to be learned. With a final glance (although it was not given in luck, as the warrior did not count on such things) and a transitory and yet amiable smile, the black fae turned back, disappearing as a shadow might. That otherworldly grace that transcended that of others carried her with the silence of one who killed. The white orbs watched he deer, that gaze wild and intense, fierce with the blood of her making. Occasionally, she would pause, allowing the deer to relax before she would continue. When she had found a place behind and across Urma’s chosen point, the warrior waited until eye contact was made. She held the golden gaze for a moment longer before she turned the wild eyes upon the oldest stag. Cwmfen waited paitently, quietly, silently, unmoving. And, as if sensing the Death that the warrior bore upon her heels, his head lifted from the meal of plants at his hooves. And that signal was enough. Trusting that Urma would sense it also, the woad warrior burst from her place, her muscles trained for endurance and speed, for distance and for agility, remembered. She flew upon the wings of a Raven, her legs stretching forth to devour the land beneath her, her tail moving to keep balance. While aware of Urma through her periphery, the white orbs were locked upon the quarry that had already turned to flee from the jaws of the hungry. The warrior did not move in for the kill—that was not her part within the hunt. Instead, as a herder, she moved the aging stag toward the white fae. But the stag did not know the plan which had been made, and his direction suddenly had changed. Cwmfen’s paws dug into the earth as her body leaned down. She followed him without trouble, pursuing as if her jaws had Fated the death of that creature. The warrior’s jaws snapped down upon the air audibly, like the crack of thunder. Fear caused the animal’s eyes to roll back, baring the whites as he watched both the path at his hooves and the wolf at his heels. - Urma - 08-25-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-27-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Hahah, “wood-marked” ^=^ It made me giggle~~ 500+ Having known it only twice before, the black fae had almost forgotten the excitement that came with the hunting something so large. Like the fighting of an enemy, like the taking of a life, this hunt caused her body to sing, to move as it was made to move. The wild light of a hunter, bright and yet dimmer than the light of a warrior, shone within her soul. She could hear the deep drumming of the hooves upon the earth as the dirt and grass was kicked up before her. And she simply moved behind him, Death drawing them closer. Ahead, the black she-wolf could see the white form of her partner approach, fangs bared—and she leapt. Time slowed and the world grew silent. Cwmfen could hear her own breath, her heart beat. She could see the muscles beneath the coat of the aged stag, the sudden and yet slow flinch as it realized only too late that the jaws of another hunter had been lying in wait. The warrior’s body gathered, and then, as time threw itself back into time, she leapt. Her jaws parted as her teeth found purchase in his flank. As Urma’s jaws closed about the soft throat, the warrior’s clamped down upon the powerful muscles of the stag’s thigh. He buckled and was forced to the earth, dying now from the shock created by the jaws at his throat, from the blood that left his body in the torrents of a powerful rain. Cwmfen released her hold upon him. "Wonderful," the tranquil voice commented through a wolf’s quiet growling. The white orbs momentarily beheld the wild eyes of the dying creature before she moved to the exposed belly. The wolf did not wait for life to disappear as she lowered her jaws, responding now to instinct as much as she responded to reason. The strong jaws and white teeth found their hold upon the live flesh as she tore it open, the blood of a still-beating heart pulsing forth upon the damp earth. Powerful tugs made effortlessly peeled away the hide as if she pulled nothing more than the blankets once used by the extinct humans. The stag struggled weakly now, his breathing shallow and harsh. And then, as the blood-soaked maw nosed through the contents of his belly, he grew still, the eyes watching nothing and everything. The act of the woad-marked fae was not cruel but practical, the act of a wolf whose instincts ran strongly still. The newly-made mother who had pups to feed found the sweet, blood-filled liver. Her jaws wrapped gingerly about its rich body before allowing the organ to slide down her throat and nourish the milk her body would produce. The sanguine maw, the woad darkened b the juice of life, lifted to find the white companion, a soft, almost distant smile upon her quiet lips. "Come, Urma," the Dahlian invited. Satisfied with the nourishing organ that she had devoured, the black fae offered now the fresh flesh to the outsider. "You may have the first morsels of your kill." It was not instinct that offered the meal first to the outsider, for instinct surely bid her now to eat and feed her pups. It was the gratitude that offered the meal, for the reason of a larger mind knew that two wolves could not devour the entire contents of the kill. The warrior side-stepped, leaving open the way for the white Crimson Dreamer. - Urma - 08-28-2009 [html]
[/html] - Cwmfen nic Graine - 08-30-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... eather.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Hahah, that’s okay; I just thought that it was funny, ^w^ We can probably end this one? And I know that I told you that we could have an Amata thread after some of the current Amata threads closed, but would it be okay to wait a bit? I’m still figuring out how much time I’ll have with classes and all, OnO 500+ A short nod was given to the white, golden-eyed female. "You deserve to feed upon your kill." The gesture had, indeed, been made out of kindness, for the she-wolf would have been moved to regain the kill for her own feeding. But that compulsion was not allowed to persist, for there was another. A leading wolf would normally feed first, but, at times, the younger or the inferior ranking would be permitted the first feeding. And so the black fae could more naturally allow this foreign female to feed. But, more strongly, she felt that such a right was well deserved. A soft smile moved across her maw. "I thank you for the offer," the soft melody sang, the woad-banded maw dipping to emphasize her gratitude. "But I would rather the carcass be as far as necessary; I do not wish to attract other predators." Whether it be wolf or bear, weasel or eagle, the new mother did not want to attract danger to her pups. It was not only that she did not wish for predators to come near her pups, but it was also that instinct would not allow Urma to come near them. She knew that the wolves within Dahlia meant no harm, but instinct did not allow for other creatures to come near, especially males and foreign wolves. It was not a personal attack upon Urma. The warrior simply followed instinct, and she did so more acutely in this arena of motherhood with which she was unfamiliar. "This distance is not insurmountable, and I shall feed swiftly." Of course, because of her journey upon the fields of ice, the black fae devoured her meals with unmatched celerity, for if one devoured too slowly, the meal would be contested by another hungry creature. While such a thing was not entirely necessary within the safer lands of ‘Souls, the black fae did not allow such habits of survival to die. As the white fae sated her appetite and stepped aside, the black fae moved in with a natural grace, lowering her already sanguine maw to the kill. She first took the softer muscles along the stomach, more tender with disuse than the muscles of the legs. Soft growls of satisfaction sounded from the warrior, whose belly was empty. Cwmfen normally did not devour much, but she took several more tears, swallowing them swiftly knowing that much of the nutrients gained by the feeding would be given to the pups. The white orbs examined the fresh flesh of the ungulate, but the woad-bound ears were alerted, swiveling occasionally to listen to the sounds of the forest and the song of the world. It was curious how she listened more interestedly than she ate. Rising, she licked her maw, and once more the woad blue was illuminated by the light of day. The pups would be satisfied, too, with the milk drawn from the blood of deer. "A satisfying kill," the warrior’s melody complimented as she turned her gaze to the white fae. "I would offer you some for the return journey, but the way to Crimson Dreams is long." There was a brief pause. "I will escort you back to the boarders, Urma, if you will allow me." And while it was spoken as an offer, the laws of packs did not allow the warrior to simply allow Urma to walk alone, unattended. |