08-23-2009, 08:49 AM
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 500+
It seemed like quite some time since the white femme had had a conversation of this nature. It felt unfair, in a way, to constantly bring this subject up whenever in the ebony she-wolf's company-- there surely were better things to talk about than just this. However, on that same note, the pale female was conscious of the fact that most of the times she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else while in Crimson Dreams lands. The futility of dwelling on such thoughts was apparent to anyone, but she refused to let go of her stubborn hopes that what had been said to her was a variation of the truth. The Aquila had seemed reticent in saying much on the matter, had in fact tried to avoid letting on the truth he was aware of in its entirety, giving the pale Crimson Dreamer the sense that he was as slippery as water. Following the same metaphor, the ideas he had put forward for her to use as she most deemed fit felt like the reflection of a fact-- distorted, as one would see themselves upon the surface of a lake.
The thoughts that roamed through her head freely, without any complaint from the part of her that still wished for a bit of peace and quiet, were nothing if not woebegone. The dejectedness of the situation weighed down on her, multiplying her already numerous thoughts and amplifying their magnitude, so that her problems seemed all of a sudden tasks simply impossible to overcome. Although she had been able to keep her composure upon her immediate return and had tried dealing with Naniko's problem, the outcome of her journey to Inferni had in the end taken its toll, leaving the ashen wolf sick with grief. Most of the days she spent hidden in her den, covering herself in darkness and shunning away any light, as if the simple sliver of outside brightness would give her new hopes. She came out only for the occasional hunt, struggling to give herself sufficient reasons as to why she needed to go on. Facing the impossibility of coming to terms with all that had happened weakened her, draining even the small crevices in which she kept the remainder of her reserves of willpower.
Gently laying her head on top of her front paws, the desolate female turned her head slightly so as to be able to look at her dark friend. She lost herself in her companion's emerald orbs, searching for anything that could indicate that this would all sort out, in the end. However, the disconsolate femme already knew there was not much left for her to do, save put the past behind her and embrace everything that came to her as it was. No matter how tired or downcast or plain wretched she felt, she would have to find reason beyond her current state so as to be able to climb out of the rut she was presently in. With great effort, as if speech were something significantly estranged to her, the amber eyes searched for Savina's, before the white she-wolf said, "It wasn't dangerous. Their leader found me at the borders. He knew about Pilot." They were lovers. Her voice came out strangled as she struggled to add, "He knew and he didn't do anything about it. And I don't blame him." The sorrowful tone came to an abrupt halt as the distraught female hid her head between her bent paws.
It seemed like quite some time since the white femme had had a conversation of this nature. It felt unfair, in a way, to constantly bring this subject up whenever in the ebony she-wolf's company-- there surely were better things to talk about than just this. However, on that same note, the pale female was conscious of the fact that most of the times she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else while in Crimson Dreams lands. The futility of dwelling on such thoughts was apparent to anyone, but she refused to let go of her stubborn hopes that what had been said to her was a variation of the truth. The Aquila had seemed reticent in saying much on the matter, had in fact tried to avoid letting on the truth he was aware of in its entirety, giving the pale Crimson Dreamer the sense that he was as slippery as water. Following the same metaphor, the ideas he had put forward for her to use as she most deemed fit felt like the reflection of a fact-- distorted, as one would see themselves upon the surface of a lake.
The thoughts that roamed through her head freely, without any complaint from the part of her that still wished for a bit of peace and quiet, were nothing if not woebegone. The dejectedness of the situation weighed down on her, multiplying her already numerous thoughts and amplifying their magnitude, so that her problems seemed all of a sudden tasks simply impossible to overcome. Although she had been able to keep her composure upon her immediate return and had tried dealing with Naniko's problem, the outcome of her journey to Inferni had in the end taken its toll, leaving the ashen wolf sick with grief. Most of the days she spent hidden in her den, covering herself in darkness and shunning away any light, as if the simple sliver of outside brightness would give her new hopes. She came out only for the occasional hunt, struggling to give herself sufficient reasons as to why she needed to go on. Facing the impossibility of coming to terms with all that had happened weakened her, draining even the small crevices in which she kept the remainder of her reserves of willpower.
Gently laying her head on top of her front paws, the desolate female turned her head slightly so as to be able to look at her dark friend. She lost herself in her companion's emerald orbs, searching for anything that could indicate that this would all sort out, in the end. However, the disconsolate femme already knew there was not much left for her to do, save put the past behind her and embrace everything that came to her as it was. No matter how tired or downcast or plain wretched she felt, she would have to find reason beyond her current state so as to be able to climb out of the rut she was presently in. With great effort, as if speech were something significantly estranged to her, the amber eyes searched for Savina's, before the white she-wolf said, "It wasn't dangerous. Their leader found me at the borders. He knew about Pilot." They were lovers. Her voice came out strangled as she struggled to add, "He knew and he didn't do anything about it. And I don't blame him." The sorrowful tone came to an abrupt halt as the distraught female hid her head between her bent paws.
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