08-26-2009, 10:16 PM
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500+
It seemed as if the large male understood her weak attempt at humor, for he responded in like kind. She was glad to know that, while deficient, her societal efforts did not completely fail her. In the absence of the song of war within the current movement of her life, the lesser circle of society was all that the warrior experienced. It was not a derogatory view, merely the evidence of the priority of passion within her life. The faint smile flickered briefly as if she were laughing. But then the flickering had ceased and with it the smile had gone. The Raven Spear hummed with discontent.
The woad-marked fae observed the surprise that moved across the hunter’s features. "It was," the quiet voice confirmed. A soft smile was offered in thanks for the compliment. But it had not occurred to the warrior that she might ever be out of place—at least not in the way that Slay had assumed. She knew how out of place her warrior’s soul that thrived in solitude must be. "Know that your body was meant to be in this shape," the soft song offered after a moment of silence. "And trust that it will know." The subconscious would not make mistakes.
A faint smile moved across her quiet lips bittersweet with knowing. And how well she believed that she knew such a thing. She did not doubt the love that she felt for Onus, nor did she doubt the love that Onus felt for her. And that love had been strong enough for the masked vigilante to lose himself in the pleasures of carnal desire, a think with which had been unfamiliar to him. Even she had felt that love acutely enough to keep her carnal curiosities for him alone. And yet, Corvus had marked her as his own, physically, with the branding of ‘darkness’ near that most intimate place, and mentally with the brushing of that hollow soul upon her own, tainting it with every climatic act of that night and the night upon the fields of ice and the moment of her conception. And now her body had conceived of that black seed and bore it. It was a betrayal of her love. Her mind betrayed that love. Onus had seen and he had watched. And she watched him, knowing what he must think. And for once, the tranquility of the black fae was disturbed. And her mind wrapped itself upon the deftly spoken words of the diamond hunter. Was it selfish of her to be silent? Had it been selfish of her to kiss him the many moons ago?
"She did not seem unhappy," the quiet melody responded at length, and the song, as always, did not betray her thoughts. "But she was worried." She did not think that Cercelee would wish for slay to release her. But Cwmfen was uncertain and merely supposed. So she was silent and said no more to Slay, unable to further offer the consolation of which she was so unfamiliar to giving. Her white orbs, bright in the half-light of the day, considered the large hunter and wondered at the confliction that Slay and Cercelee were experiencing. She did not understand the nature of this confliction. But it was not her place to ask, for that information as not hers to know. Nor was it her place to offer words in an arena in which she did not excel.
500+
It seemed as if the large male understood her weak attempt at humor, for he responded in like kind. She was glad to know that, while deficient, her societal efforts did not completely fail her. In the absence of the song of war within the current movement of her life, the lesser circle of society was all that the warrior experienced. It was not a derogatory view, merely the evidence of the priority of passion within her life. The faint smile flickered briefly as if she were laughing. But then the flickering had ceased and with it the smile had gone. The Raven Spear hummed with discontent.
The woad-marked fae observed the surprise that moved across the hunter’s features. "It was," the quiet voice confirmed. A soft smile was offered in thanks for the compliment. But it had not occurred to the warrior that she might ever be out of place—at least not in the way that Slay had assumed. She knew how out of place her warrior’s soul that thrived in solitude must be. "Know that your body was meant to be in this shape," the soft song offered after a moment of silence. "And trust that it will know." The subconscious would not make mistakes.
A faint smile moved across her quiet lips bittersweet with knowing. And how well she believed that she knew such a thing. She did not doubt the love that she felt for Onus, nor did she doubt the love that Onus felt for her. And that love had been strong enough for the masked vigilante to lose himself in the pleasures of carnal desire, a think with which had been unfamiliar to him. Even she had felt that love acutely enough to keep her carnal curiosities for him alone. And yet, Corvus had marked her as his own, physically, with the branding of ‘darkness’ near that most intimate place, and mentally with the brushing of that hollow soul upon her own, tainting it with every climatic act of that night and the night upon the fields of ice and the moment of her conception. And now her body had conceived of that black seed and bore it. It was a betrayal of her love. Her mind betrayed that love. Onus had seen and he had watched. And she watched him, knowing what he must think. And for once, the tranquility of the black fae was disturbed. And her mind wrapped itself upon the deftly spoken words of the diamond hunter. Was it selfish of her to be silent? Had it been selfish of her to kiss him the many moons ago?
"She did not seem unhappy," the quiet melody responded at length, and the song, as always, did not betray her thoughts. "But she was worried." She did not think that Cercelee would wish for slay to release her. But Cwmfen was uncertain and merely supposed. So she was silent and said no more to Slay, unable to further offer the consolation of which she was so unfamiliar to giving. Her white orbs, bright in the half-light of the day, considered the large hunter and wondered at the confliction that Slay and Cercelee were experiencing. She did not understand the nature of this confliction. But it was not her place to ask, for that information as not hers to know. Nor was it her place to offer words in an arena in which she did not excel.