08-29-2010, 07:27 PM
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Nereid. RAMBLE! WOO! 904.
The air that blew in and up from the ocean below was cooler than it had been all summer. There was no doubt that soon autumn would draped itself over the lands as the leaves, changing color swiftly, threatened to drop. The air was crisper and although Nayru had never experienced fall before she knew it was coming. It was part learned knowledge and part instinct that told her of the coming cold months, and the changing energy in the air excited her. Daylight had not even broken when she sprang from bed, unable to keep still any longer, and slipped out of the Victorian home that so many others shared, her garnet ankle making no noise as she tiptoed over the wooden floors. Free from the sturdy walls the piebald creature had turned back to regard it, and while it was perhaps no more crowded than it had been it felt smaller to her. The large house even looked smaller, and she held the image in her head as she turned west and made her way to the rocky cliffs that overlooked the ocean.
Fifty feet above the crashing waters Nayru seated herself, her back against a large tree and her sharp eyes out to the water. The past few weeks had brought a great change in the young woman and it was evident both in her manners and her quickly developing form. The girl sat with her hands resting easily on her knees and it appeared her attentions were elsewhere, yet nothing escaped the girl’s notice as soft breaths caused her transformed chest to rise and fall almost unnoticeably. Expert ears and nose alerted her to every living soul in the area, and this vigilance had been with her for many days. The foolishness she had allowed before-- sleeping in neutral lands, wandering out without protection--she wrote off as a child’s mistakes and had vowed that they wouldn’t be repeated.
Adulthood as she knew it, nine months of age and entrance into adult ranks, was only a month away, and while the fairy child had dreaded it even only two months ago, she was prepared now. Still unsure of exactly how she would serve Dahlia de Mai, the ideas were beginning to form and her plans had a rough shape now. Nayru was content with that. Possibilities and opportunities now seemed more real than ever, more tangible than they had on the day she had told Conor that she wouldn’t be able to contribute anything. Perhaps that had been childishness, but it was past and though her own unique niche still eluded her it no longer seemed impossible to find at all. No longer did she deny her stealth and silence as a valuable attribute. The wraith-like wolf knew now that she was better than most and with practice and time she could perhaps be the sliest wolf in Dahlia. Never would she be strongest, and with Cwmfen and Saluce in the ranks she wouldn’t wield weapons as expertly as they, and neither could she craft medicines and grow herbs to tend to others or make jewelry as Bris did. Yet she had something to offer. It was not just stealth. Her skills of reading and writing were nearly on par with those of her teacher Bris despite the short time in which she had learned. And her knowledge of plants was expanding, if her resolve to use them was not. And most of all she was no longer so soft.
The world was not soft, she knew this, and though Dahlia de Mai brought her serenity it was a delicate door which shut out sorrow and pain. And at times she would open it herself, choosing to immerse herself into a darker world. Of course she would return, and while speaking gaily and romping with Gideon no one knew the difference, but her thoughts were not as naive or warm as they once had been and she had learned to mask this, it did not reflect in her eyes when she looked up at the others anymore. While she still found friendship in Conor and Bris she knew life with them in the Victorian home was a dream of childhood, and when the time was appropriate, when she earned her adult rank, she would leave them. Not Dahlia. Never Dahlia. But their security and comfort was part of the child that she was slowly suffocating as the intricate femme emerged.
The plan was already in place, and mentally she was perhaps already gone from them. Several locations on the west border of the pack had been scouted and were being carefully reviewed. They had been chosen for their remoteness from Wolfville and the majority of Dahlia de Mai, but also because Nayru realized that someone needed to guard the west border. If nothing else, while she figured out her true purpose, she could do provide Dahlia that. It would lift a burden from Conor, knowing someone vigilant was always there and those who did not wish to patrol so far from their own homes would have no reason to. And so far from them she could think alone, which is what she did often, and it was what she was doing then. Images of white dream wolves floated before her and a content smile spread on her face as the first inklings of dawn began to spread on the horizon.
The air that blew in and up from the ocean below was cooler than it had been all summer. There was no doubt that soon autumn would draped itself over the lands as the leaves, changing color swiftly, threatened to drop. The air was crisper and although Nayru had never experienced fall before she knew it was coming. It was part learned knowledge and part instinct that told her of the coming cold months, and the changing energy in the air excited her. Daylight had not even broken when she sprang from bed, unable to keep still any longer, and slipped out of the Victorian home that so many others shared, her garnet ankle making no noise as she tiptoed over the wooden floors. Free from the sturdy walls the piebald creature had turned back to regard it, and while it was perhaps no more crowded than it had been it felt smaller to her. The large house even looked smaller, and she held the image in her head as she turned west and made her way to the rocky cliffs that overlooked the ocean.
Fifty feet above the crashing waters Nayru seated herself, her back against a large tree and her sharp eyes out to the water. The past few weeks had brought a great change in the young woman and it was evident both in her manners and her quickly developing form. The girl sat with her hands resting easily on her knees and it appeared her attentions were elsewhere, yet nothing escaped the girl’s notice as soft breaths caused her transformed chest to rise and fall almost unnoticeably. Expert ears and nose alerted her to every living soul in the area, and this vigilance had been with her for many days. The foolishness she had allowed before-- sleeping in neutral lands, wandering out without protection--she wrote off as a child’s mistakes and had vowed that they wouldn’t be repeated.
Adulthood as she knew it, nine months of age and entrance into adult ranks, was only a month away, and while the fairy child had dreaded it even only two months ago, she was prepared now. Still unsure of exactly how she would serve Dahlia de Mai, the ideas were beginning to form and her plans had a rough shape now. Nayru was content with that. Possibilities and opportunities now seemed more real than ever, more tangible than they had on the day she had told Conor that she wouldn’t be able to contribute anything. Perhaps that had been childishness, but it was past and though her own unique niche still eluded her it no longer seemed impossible to find at all. No longer did she deny her stealth and silence as a valuable attribute. The wraith-like wolf knew now that she was better than most and with practice and time she could perhaps be the sliest wolf in Dahlia. Never would she be strongest, and with Cwmfen and Saluce in the ranks she wouldn’t wield weapons as expertly as they, and neither could she craft medicines and grow herbs to tend to others or make jewelry as Bris did. Yet she had something to offer. It was not just stealth. Her skills of reading and writing were nearly on par with those of her teacher Bris despite the short time in which she had learned. And her knowledge of plants was expanding, if her resolve to use them was not. And most of all she was no longer so soft.
The world was not soft, she knew this, and though Dahlia de Mai brought her serenity it was a delicate door which shut out sorrow and pain. And at times she would open it herself, choosing to immerse herself into a darker world. Of course she would return, and while speaking gaily and romping with Gideon no one knew the difference, but her thoughts were not as naive or warm as they once had been and she had learned to mask this, it did not reflect in her eyes when she looked up at the others anymore. While she still found friendship in Conor and Bris she knew life with them in the Victorian home was a dream of childhood, and when the time was appropriate, when she earned her adult rank, she would leave them. Not Dahlia. Never Dahlia. But their security and comfort was part of the child that she was slowly suffocating as the intricate femme emerged.
The plan was already in place, and mentally she was perhaps already gone from them. Several locations on the west border of the pack had been scouted and were being carefully reviewed. They had been chosen for their remoteness from Wolfville and the majority of Dahlia de Mai, but also because Nayru realized that someone needed to guard the west border. If nothing else, while she figured out her true purpose, she could do provide Dahlia that. It would lift a burden from Conor, knowing someone vigilant was always there and those who did not wish to patrol so far from their own homes would have no reason to. And so far from them she could think alone, which is what she did often, and it was what she was doing then. Images of white dream wolves floated before her and a content smile spread on her face as the first inklings of dawn began to spread on the horizon.
table by kahilli