06-08-2009, 05:11 PM
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500+
The woman held the pup close, feeling the wet tears fall and dampen her fur. But while her heart mourned for her pack member, the woman did not weep. All her tears and all her irrational rage had been expelled after her father had raped her before she arrived at the Dahlian boarders. And since that time had passed, it was as if, with those diluted emotions of an enlightened warrior, she no longer had that ability to weep, not even in anger or in sadness. There was only a stirring in her soul that moved like the somber waters of the dark ocean after a great storm, shadowed by the dark clouds that moved away having expelled all that they had. But the pup in her arms was held close, the woman needing that contact as much as the pup did.
Catalyst’s question struck the woman, and her eyes watched the sad blue and white orbs of the pup. It was his time, the woman thought, because I did not save him, because I did not act, did not find my father. But the woman was silent for a moment longer. It was not her fault that Ril’o had been killed—she knew that. But she could have prevented it, she should have prevented it. Time was growing thin but with it her father’s threats had grown severe, extreme. "He died," the soft melody said at length, those tones a dulled silver melody that sang with minor tones, "to warn me." That was the truth, for that was what Corvus had been here to do. But she could not tell the pup of her failure to act because the pup needed to feel that sense of security. It was not false security if she continued to stay within the packlands, for Cwmfen would not allow her father to harm her or anyone else. Ril’o would be the last. Her white orbs turned to the heavens, seeking the absent moon of Nemain as she vowed it. Let it be written, she called to the goddess.
The warrior heard it too, the woad bound ears pricking forward. But when Sankor appeared, she knew that it had not been the male that she had initially heard. The white orbs watched as he beheld the fallen wolf, listening to his uttered words. As the white pup moved closer in her arms, the warrior held her close, her hand cradling her head gently against her as if to keep her from seeing Death that was lying so close with its throat torn out. "Sankor," she called quietly, as if wishing to say something, but she did not. The warrior, because of her social ineptitudes, did not know what to say, did not know what needed to be said. She knew how to kill and how to honor the bodies of the dead, but she did not know what should be said. The white orbs sought his, wondering if he would judge her for her failed duty as Warrior. She remembered what had passed between them upon their last meeting. But she knew also that Ril’o had been a close friend of the psychiatrist. She knew of the loss he would be feeling, but she didn’t know how to tell him that.
500+
The woman held the pup close, feeling the wet tears fall and dampen her fur. But while her heart mourned for her pack member, the woman did not weep. All her tears and all her irrational rage had been expelled after her father had raped her before she arrived at the Dahlian boarders. And since that time had passed, it was as if, with those diluted emotions of an enlightened warrior, she no longer had that ability to weep, not even in anger or in sadness. There was only a stirring in her soul that moved like the somber waters of the dark ocean after a great storm, shadowed by the dark clouds that moved away having expelled all that they had. But the pup in her arms was held close, the woman needing that contact as much as the pup did.
Catalyst’s question struck the woman, and her eyes watched the sad blue and white orbs of the pup. It was his time, the woman thought, because I did not save him, because I did not act, did not find my father. But the woman was silent for a moment longer. It was not her fault that Ril’o had been killed—she knew that. But she could have prevented it, she should have prevented it. Time was growing thin but with it her father’s threats had grown severe, extreme. "He died," the soft melody said at length, those tones a dulled silver melody that sang with minor tones, "to warn me." That was the truth, for that was what Corvus had been here to do. But she could not tell the pup of her failure to act because the pup needed to feel that sense of security. It was not false security if she continued to stay within the packlands, for Cwmfen would not allow her father to harm her or anyone else. Ril’o would be the last. Her white orbs turned to the heavens, seeking the absent moon of Nemain as she vowed it. Let it be written, she called to the goddess.
The warrior heard it too, the woad bound ears pricking forward. But when Sankor appeared, she knew that it had not been the male that she had initially heard. The white orbs watched as he beheld the fallen wolf, listening to his uttered words. As the white pup moved closer in her arms, the warrior held her close, her hand cradling her head gently against her as if to keep her from seeing Death that was lying so close with its throat torn out. "Sankor," she called quietly, as if wishing to say something, but she did not. The warrior, because of her social ineptitudes, did not know what to say, did not know what needed to be said. She knew how to kill and how to honor the bodies of the dead, but she did not know what should be said. The white orbs sought his, wondering if he would judge her for her failed duty as Warrior. She remembered what had passed between them upon their last meeting. But she knew also that Ril’o had been a close friend of the psychiatrist. She knew of the loss he would be feeling, but she didn’t know how to tell him that.