07-27-2009, 12:56 AM
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500+
The cool waters welcomed her encumbered form without protest. Her body slid through the surface of the pool as a blade might: without ripple. The lives within her were still, quieted, it seemed, by the soft song of the waters. And the black fae stood in the shallows, the swell of her stomach only partially submerged as she stood there. The white orbs watched the water greet her belly, the soft, imperceptible waves brushing rhythmically against her skin. The water had accepted the growing lives within, and the black wolf knew that she must also. Her hands lifted from the waters as she cradled that foreign swell, so unfamiliar and yet a part of herself. Here, alone in the domain of Nemain, the woad warrior could feel that tranquil contentment. A Gift. The pied Raven of her Dreams had called it. The Morrigan had called it. And she felt as if it were so. All things were Fated, the woman reminded herself, as was this. There was nothing that she could experience of these happenings other than acceptance.
A quiet breath was expelled from the Raven Warrior. Tranquility, like the first drop of rain falling upon her soul.
Cwmfen moved to the deeper waters that fell against the edge of the pool. Her body moved easily, the quieted wound of her leg unable to protest the environment in which it had entered. The woad warrior leaned her head against the green earth, closing her eyes as she allowed her body to relax. She was like Artemis of the Greeks, but she was no virgin. If anything, that swell contradicted such a thing. Perhaps her own triple-goddess was more fitting.
The woad bound ears twitched with the sound of approach, but she recognized that footfall, a familiar rhythm that belonged to her packmate. She did not move from where she was, able to remain still for the lack of a threat. The soft greeting shattered the serene silence, and it was then that the warrior’s eyes opened, her head shifting so that she may look upon the visage of one familiar to her. "Hello, Tokyo," the quiet melody greeted with silver tones that somehow retained a refined sort of formality. A soft, practically imperceptible smile moved across her quiet lips. Much time had passed since she had last seen the boisterous female. The last time, Corvus had still been alive, the earthen hued wolf had been wounded by his jaws. The warrior felt a certain amount of relief for the wounds that had seemed to heal.
The brightness of the black fae’s smile—or so she perceived it to be bright in her mind, although in reality there was hardly any evidence of its existence—faltered at Tokyo’s exclamation. There was a silence that, for the woad marked female, seemed to stretch for a great length of time. "Yes," the soft susurrus said at length. And it was of Onus that she thought. The white orbs wandered over the smooth surface of the pool, her hands still upon the woad-marked stomach. But the wind whispered softly and the distant call of a Raven quieted her thoughts. There was nothing about which to despair. And she did not despair. "Your wounds are healing well," the melody commented, her gaze lifting to the Leirre. She shifted in the waters, a soft ripple extending from her movements. Righting herself, the warrior turned, setting her arm upon the soft, green grasses. "You can join me, if you would like," the Adonis offered.
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The cool waters welcomed her encumbered form without protest. Her body slid through the surface of the pool as a blade might: without ripple. The lives within her were still, quieted, it seemed, by the soft song of the waters. And the black fae stood in the shallows, the swell of her stomach only partially submerged as she stood there. The white orbs watched the water greet her belly, the soft, imperceptible waves brushing rhythmically against her skin. The water had accepted the growing lives within, and the black wolf knew that she must also. Her hands lifted from the waters as she cradled that foreign swell, so unfamiliar and yet a part of herself. Here, alone in the domain of Nemain, the woad warrior could feel that tranquil contentment. A Gift. The pied Raven of her Dreams had called it. The Morrigan had called it. And she felt as if it were so. All things were Fated, the woman reminded herself, as was this. There was nothing that she could experience of these happenings other than acceptance.
A quiet breath was expelled from the Raven Warrior. Tranquility, like the first drop of rain falling upon her soul.
Cwmfen moved to the deeper waters that fell against the edge of the pool. Her body moved easily, the quieted wound of her leg unable to protest the environment in which it had entered. The woad warrior leaned her head against the green earth, closing her eyes as she allowed her body to relax. She was like Artemis of the Greeks, but she was no virgin. If anything, that swell contradicted such a thing. Perhaps her own triple-goddess was more fitting.
The woad bound ears twitched with the sound of approach, but she recognized that footfall, a familiar rhythm that belonged to her packmate. She did not move from where she was, able to remain still for the lack of a threat. The soft greeting shattered the serene silence, and it was then that the warrior’s eyes opened, her head shifting so that she may look upon the visage of one familiar to her. "Hello, Tokyo," the quiet melody greeted with silver tones that somehow retained a refined sort of formality. A soft, practically imperceptible smile moved across her quiet lips. Much time had passed since she had last seen the boisterous female. The last time, Corvus had still been alive, the earthen hued wolf had been wounded by his jaws. The warrior felt a certain amount of relief for the wounds that had seemed to heal.
The brightness of the black fae’s smile—or so she perceived it to be bright in her mind, although in reality there was hardly any evidence of its existence—faltered at Tokyo’s exclamation. There was a silence that, for the woad marked female, seemed to stretch for a great length of time. "Yes," the soft susurrus said at length. And it was of Onus that she thought. The white orbs wandered over the smooth surface of the pool, her hands still upon the woad-marked stomach. But the wind whispered softly and the distant call of a Raven quieted her thoughts. There was nothing about which to despair. And she did not despair. "Your wounds are healing well," the melody commented, her gaze lifting to the Leirre. She shifted in the waters, a soft ripple extending from her movements. Righting herself, the warrior turned, setting her arm upon the soft, green grasses. "You can join me, if you would like," the Adonis offered.