03-22-2012, 06:37 PM
The salt smell, the rushing and growling of the ocean - all conspired to heighten her pulse, run tension through her shoulders: she felt like running, or fighting, or maybe crying. She wasn't entirely sure. She didn't know what this strange restlessness was: this yearning. Caprica had been seeking answers for weeks now. She'd spent so long believing that to feel the affection of another - real affection, not a manipulative sham or an imagined and taboo longing - was all she needed. But this moment had arrived, then passed, and it had been as empty as all her other moments. Not one to dwell or think too hard, she had no idea what caused her to recoil and hold back from what she'd thought was her heart's desire. The stones held in her gris-gris, the pouch around her neck, still knocked together and drummed out the heartbeat of longing, the love-spell still painted red on their smooth facets. But Caprica was an ingrate, and she knew she had spurned their bounty. Why, though - what had she found, what desire to replace the dream of the ideal romance?
Questions without answers. Her brain hated the confusion, and drove her body to distraction, unable to rest: Caprica was becoming stronger and fitter by the day, at the moment. Very little could soothe her, any more.
Then, a scent over the salt drifted to her muzzle and her ears swivelled inquisitively. This was a smell she associated with smoke-walled caves and late night fires, not wild sea-fronts and windy days. Caprica shaded her eyes against the pale spring sunlight, looking around for the source. A plant growing nearby? No, a werewolf: her back to Caprica, sitting a little distance from her. The Anatheman's eyes glittered. Perhaps she was in luck: perhaps the stranger would share. Her scent was unfamiliar, not of a pack that the tall woman knew, but nevertheless she approached with a bold swagger that cared nothing for political uncertainty. "Oh, careful," she warned as she noticed exactly what the wolf was doing. The loose paper and leaves could easily blow away. "I'll be a wind-barrier for ya." Caprica knelt before the stranger, as if totally at ease - but she knew the best way to make friends was to act as if already a friend: she also hoped to trade or beg a sample of the sweet-smelling herb, she'd tried only once or twice before. "Wouldn't want such an enticing collection of items to be lost to the wind…" she smiled.
Questions without answers. Her brain hated the confusion, and drove her body to distraction, unable to rest: Caprica was becoming stronger and fitter by the day, at the moment. Very little could soothe her, any more.
Then, a scent over the salt drifted to her muzzle and her ears swivelled inquisitively. This was a smell she associated with smoke-walled caves and late night fires, not wild sea-fronts and windy days. Caprica shaded her eyes against the pale spring sunlight, looking around for the source. A plant growing nearby? No, a werewolf: her back to Caprica, sitting a little distance from her. The Anatheman's eyes glittered. Perhaps she was in luck: perhaps the stranger would share. Her scent was unfamiliar, not of a pack that the tall woman knew, but nevertheless she approached with a bold swagger that cared nothing for political uncertainty. "Oh, careful," she warned as she noticed exactly what the wolf was doing. The loose paper and leaves could easily blow away. "I'll be a wind-barrier for ya." Caprica knelt before the stranger, as if totally at ease - but she knew the best way to make friends was to act as if already a friend: she also hoped to trade or beg a sample of the sweet-smelling herb, she'd tried only once or twice before. "Wouldn't want such an enticing collection of items to be lost to the wind…" she smiled.