06-17-2009, 01:49 PM
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500+
The woman looked into those eyes, seeing that flicker of disgust. Her heart quivered. But then she retained that focus long enough, finding that it was not disgust of her but disgust of himself. While there was some relief, but she wished that there was some way in which she could brush away what she had caused within him. But her body did not respond to her. Her white eyes did not show her frustration, and yet it moved through her slowly, carried upon the flow of her blood. The red blood that stood brightly upon the white bandages were seen from her periphery, and she could smell the blood of the untended shoulder. She would have risen, would have reached out, would have helped him wrap it as she should have. But she could not rise, and she could barely speak. The warrior was accustom to waiting, her soul patient. But for some reason she wished that she could move, to cast aside what had been done to her, to throw away the possibility that Corvus had succeeded in planting his black seed within her. His gentle squeeze allowed the frustration to drop from her mind’s tenuous hold upon it.
Hesitently, he reached out to her, his touch upon her face like a calming elixir. Her eyes closed to savor that single, painless touch upon her. A soft sigh was expelled from her torn form, wrapped now with the white bandages with which he had patiently bound her wounds. The numb pain of her body was uncomfortable, and each attempted movement pulled upon his stitch work that she could not see. The woad marked female’s eyes opened slightly as he spoke, and her disoriented mind was quieted. She knew that he would not leave her—but why did she have that irrational fear? Finally, the crow wolf had been killed, slain by the jaws of this man that she loved. Everything should have been fine. She who had been placed at Death’s door had been spirited away by his protective arms. And yet, her heart was afraid. She was not afraid of the crow wolf, or of what it meant that he had been killed. She was not afraid of Death that continued still to claw at the apartment door. She was afraid that somehow, somewhere within her body, a creature had been conceived.
She looked up at him and loved him. Comforted by his touch, her eyes pulled darkness over her sigh as her body was able to relax. There were many things that she wished to say and many things that she wished to do, but already sleep was pulling her under, calming her heart and allowing her tended wounds to heal. She took a deep breath, breathing in his scent and holding it against her before she was finally able to let go and succumb to that powerful pull. As her mind slowly slid into a calm sleep, untroubled for the first time in a long time, she thought of how she had been unable to return his touch.
500+
The woman looked into those eyes, seeing that flicker of disgust. Her heart quivered. But then she retained that focus long enough, finding that it was not disgust of her but disgust of himself. While there was some relief, but she wished that there was some way in which she could brush away what she had caused within him. But her body did not respond to her. Her white eyes did not show her frustration, and yet it moved through her slowly, carried upon the flow of her blood. The red blood that stood brightly upon the white bandages were seen from her periphery, and she could smell the blood of the untended shoulder. She would have risen, would have reached out, would have helped him wrap it as she should have. But she could not rise, and she could barely speak. The warrior was accustom to waiting, her soul patient. But for some reason she wished that she could move, to cast aside what had been done to her, to throw away the possibility that Corvus had succeeded in planting his black seed within her. His gentle squeeze allowed the frustration to drop from her mind’s tenuous hold upon it.
Hesitently, he reached out to her, his touch upon her face like a calming elixir. Her eyes closed to savor that single, painless touch upon her. A soft sigh was expelled from her torn form, wrapped now with the white bandages with which he had patiently bound her wounds. The numb pain of her body was uncomfortable, and each attempted movement pulled upon his stitch work that she could not see. The woad marked female’s eyes opened slightly as he spoke, and her disoriented mind was quieted. She knew that he would not leave her—but why did she have that irrational fear? Finally, the crow wolf had been killed, slain by the jaws of this man that she loved. Everything should have been fine. She who had been placed at Death’s door had been spirited away by his protective arms. And yet, her heart was afraid. She was not afraid of the crow wolf, or of what it meant that he had been killed. She was not afraid of Death that continued still to claw at the apartment door. She was afraid that somehow, somewhere within her body, a creature had been conceived.
She looked up at him and loved him. Comforted by his touch, her eyes pulled darkness over her sigh as her body was able to relax. There were many things that she wished to say and many things that she wished to do, but already sleep was pulling her under, calming her heart and allowing her tended wounds to heal. She took a deep breath, breathing in his scent and holding it against her before she was finally able to let go and succumb to that powerful pull. As her mind slowly slid into a calm sleep, untroubled for the first time in a long time, she thought of how she had been unable to return his touch.