10-02-2009, 11:02 PM
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^=^ We could wrap this one up soon? (But I totally don’t mind continuing if you want, ^=^~)
500+
The woad-marked warrior did not know much of her mother or father’s lineage. She knew very little of their stories. But Graine had given her enough—a little information here, a little more there. Cleverly deftly, the black fae’s mother had made certain that her daughter had known at least a little of the history of her own birth. And so Tokyo’s story was not unfamiliar. It was not unfamiliar, also, to her own strange infatuation with that crow wolf. "My father seduced my mother similarly," the quiet voice murmured quietly, almost thoughtfully. It was not a new tale, and it did not surprise the warrior that such a thing were so. The stories of all lives were the same, and all stories had a beginning and an ending. The paths looked different, and some took different directions. But in the end, they all lead to Death. Whatever happened afterwards only the gods and the dead knew.
"Creatures that are evil..." The soft melody trailed off for a brief moment as if wondering whether to impart such a thought. Once more, the white orbs watched the light that danced across the calmer waters of the pool as if they whispered something to her, and indeed those colours, the temperature, the scent, they all whispered to her. At length the warrior’s gaze returned to the turquoise eyes of her packmate. "Such creatures should not be left to set themselves upon the world," the words sang at length. Ambiguity often was laced within the Caledonian-Korean’s words, but the meaning was quite clear. The tranquility with which those words left her lips was almost sinister, and yet it was nothing sinister that moved her to speak such words. Indeed, it was because of such unstable creatures that she was allowed to exist, that her soul was permitted to sing so beautifully, but she knew that, while necessary, while inescapable, a warrior such as she should strive for Peace (although those such as she sought to do so with violence). She was not conflicted with such things, and she knew that she would kill even those that were wrought of her own body should they be of souls too dark. Perhaps, however, Tokyo had been conflicted. The warrior wondered why she had allowed the boy who had been ‘evil’ to continue to exist. And she wondered also what Tokyo would think of such a thing that was so familiar to her and yet so foreign, it seemed, to those who lived here.
And yet... was it Tokyo of whom she had spoken? Or was it herself?
A soft sigh escaped the warrior, and she breathed in the silence. The lives stirred within her, an almost tentative touch. "What is your relationship with your children now?" The eyes were no longer upon the woman beside her but upon the canopy of the woods. She relaxed her body, leaning against the edge of the pool and allowing herself to dispel the inner conflict of being unable to allow her body to sing of war.
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500+
The woad-marked warrior did not know much of her mother or father’s lineage. She knew very little of their stories. But Graine had given her enough—a little information here, a little more there. Cleverly deftly, the black fae’s mother had made certain that her daughter had known at least a little of the history of her own birth. And so Tokyo’s story was not unfamiliar. It was not unfamiliar, also, to her own strange infatuation with that crow wolf. "My father seduced my mother similarly," the quiet voice murmured quietly, almost thoughtfully. It was not a new tale, and it did not surprise the warrior that such a thing were so. The stories of all lives were the same, and all stories had a beginning and an ending. The paths looked different, and some took different directions. But in the end, they all lead to Death. Whatever happened afterwards only the gods and the dead knew.
"Creatures that are evil..." The soft melody trailed off for a brief moment as if wondering whether to impart such a thought. Once more, the white orbs watched the light that danced across the calmer waters of the pool as if they whispered something to her, and indeed those colours, the temperature, the scent, they all whispered to her. At length the warrior’s gaze returned to the turquoise eyes of her packmate. "Such creatures should not be left to set themselves upon the world," the words sang at length. Ambiguity often was laced within the Caledonian-Korean’s words, but the meaning was quite clear. The tranquility with which those words left her lips was almost sinister, and yet it was nothing sinister that moved her to speak such words. Indeed, it was because of such unstable creatures that she was allowed to exist, that her soul was permitted to sing so beautifully, but she knew that, while necessary, while inescapable, a warrior such as she should strive for Peace (although those such as she sought to do so with violence). She was not conflicted with such things, and she knew that she would kill even those that were wrought of her own body should they be of souls too dark. Perhaps, however, Tokyo had been conflicted. The warrior wondered why she had allowed the boy who had been ‘evil’ to continue to exist. And she wondered also what Tokyo would think of such a thing that was so familiar to her and yet so foreign, it seemed, to those who lived here.
And yet... was it Tokyo of whom she had spoken? Or was it herself?
A soft sigh escaped the warrior, and she breathed in the silence. The lives stirred within her, an almost tentative touch. "What is your relationship with your children now?" The eyes were no longer upon the woman beside her but upon the canopy of the woods. She relaxed her body, leaning against the edge of the pool and allowing herself to dispel the inner conflict of being unable to allow her body to sing of war.