02-27-2009, 01:50 AM
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
n___n
500+
Cwmfen was close. Perhaps too close. Perhaps she should have felt a danger in such proximity, especially since she had only just tested his skill and knew now of what he was capable in the least. But she was not afraid because she knew that this creature had control. And while creatures with control were more terrible to behold when the temper was lost, she did not feel that this coy was that sort of creature. He was a servant of Justice, and he killed in her name. But he was most definitely not like those he killed, and so she was not afraid. And she new that he was not afraid of her, but, because she did not serve and enforce with will of Justice, that was not her purpose. And perhaps that was not his purpose. But she could not know. All she knew was what she saw and what he allowed to be seen.
And somehow, she knew that he would not allow her to see what was beneath that cloth. And why should he grant her access? They had only just met, and while they both displayed amiable demeanors, who knew what truly lay beneath their displays. And perhaps there was no disguise. Or, perhaps beneath their shells of honor there was a flaw, a character flaw that would eventually lead to their downfall. Hamartia. A light smile played across her maw as his fingers gripped her wrist, her pulse beating beneath his grasp just as it had done at the end of their spar, and her neck tickled where his touch had brushed her. Her fingers lingered at the lip of the cloth, her claws brushing against his face as if considering defying his gentle objection. But instead, they recoiled, and she slowly pulled her self from his grasp and let the hand fall to her side in silent acceptance. The clear white orbs lingered on his collar bone, but saw some other distant thought.
Her gaze lifted as he spoke, and she heard something lingering in her voice but could not recognize it. She was silent for a moment, puzzling over the meaning of his words. "Forgive me," the black warrior said at length. "It was not my place." But she wondered still what lay beneath that white cloth that so moved him to conceal it. The coy saw the world clearly through that blindfold, and yet the world was blind to him. It was ironic, perhaps. Finally, the she wolf stepped away from him, allowing the cool air to fill that space between them. Perhaps that was all this encounter would hold for them. She had seen what he could do, and for now, at least, her curiosity was satisfied. She made to leave, but did not turn her back to him, as if it were some ancient gesture of respect. "My name is Cwmfen nic Graine," she said into the silence, gifting him her name. "Should you require aid in your vigil, I will give it willingly." And yet, she somehow doubted that he would require it.
n___n
500+
Cwmfen was close. Perhaps too close. Perhaps she should have felt a danger in such proximity, especially since she had only just tested his skill and knew now of what he was capable in the least. But she was not afraid because she knew that this creature had control. And while creatures with control were more terrible to behold when the temper was lost, she did not feel that this coy was that sort of creature. He was a servant of Justice, and he killed in her name. But he was most definitely not like those he killed, and so she was not afraid. And she new that he was not afraid of her, but, because she did not serve and enforce with will of Justice, that was not her purpose. And perhaps that was not his purpose. But she could not know. All she knew was what she saw and what he allowed to be seen.
And somehow, she knew that he would not allow her to see what was beneath that cloth. And why should he grant her access? They had only just met, and while they both displayed amiable demeanors, who knew what truly lay beneath their displays. And perhaps there was no disguise. Or, perhaps beneath their shells of honor there was a flaw, a character flaw that would eventually lead to their downfall. Hamartia. A light smile played across her maw as his fingers gripped her wrist, her pulse beating beneath his grasp just as it had done at the end of their spar, and her neck tickled where his touch had brushed her. Her fingers lingered at the lip of the cloth, her claws brushing against his face as if considering defying his gentle objection. But instead, they recoiled, and she slowly pulled her self from his grasp and let the hand fall to her side in silent acceptance. The clear white orbs lingered on his collar bone, but saw some other distant thought.
Her gaze lifted as he spoke, and she heard something lingering in her voice but could not recognize it. She was silent for a moment, puzzling over the meaning of his words. "Forgive me," the black warrior said at length. "It was not my place." But she wondered still what lay beneath that white cloth that so moved him to conceal it. The coy saw the world clearly through that blindfold, and yet the world was blind to him. It was ironic, perhaps. Finally, the she wolf stepped away from him, allowing the cool air to fill that space between them. Perhaps that was all this encounter would hold for them. She had seen what he could do, and for now, at least, her curiosity was satisfied. She made to leave, but did not turn her back to him, as if it were some ancient gesture of respect. "My name is Cwmfen nic Graine," she said into the silence, gifting him her name. "Should you require aid in your vigil, I will give it willingly." And yet, she somehow doubted that he would require it.