03-04-2009, 09:27 PM
I figured we could call it, seeing as how she's already opened him twice, and he's left her with eight claw marks and probably a nasty facial bruise. If you wanted a longer battle, he'll be getting into plenty of trouble in the next month or so, and now that she knows how dangerous he is (largely without meaning to be...which is the most unpredictable kind of trouble-maker), I think there'd be plenty of room for her to get involved =)
Beneath Brennt, the social identity that had been crafted by the mind itself and the minds of others as an interface with the social world, rested the bestial presence of a true wolf. A wolf untouched by the virus or by the shifting, untouched by speech and clothing and human tools and constructions. That presence could endure pain far in excess of anything a human could stand, could work through injury and exhaustion further than the more advanced minds that surrounded it. All wolves had this presence deep inside them, but only a few could access it. Subconsciously, for this creature was not fully self-aware, the force driving Brennt believed that the black wolf could access this deep strength, as well. She had achieved it, using her mind to unlock that ancient strength, where Brennt had only to let his mind go and all of the old ways were available to him. He could hunt, he could stalk, he could hide, he could fight. All he had to do was release himself from the weakness that the others accepted. Release himself from the identity they wanted for him, the identity they looked down on, the identity they exploited, like she had exploited his lust.
As she sought to shift position, it sought to keep up with her, circling the black female in turn. She was ready to die, or kill. It understood that its size would make it very difficult for her to kill, but its skin parted just as easily as hers did, and pursuing the battle long enough to corner and kill her--if it was able--may not be worth the trouble. The stinging had died down, and the beast opened its second eye, vision swimming back into focus as the colors behind its clenched eyelid faded. Something about that action, about the new sensory input from the opened eye, reset the large wolf's system, and while he continued circling, he blinked several times, until the dullness finally returned to his eyes. When it finally did, his steps only continued for a few more heartbeats, before his eyes furrowed in consternation and anger, and he seemed both mad at her and confused as to what he was doing. The blood dripped from his shoulder, but the pain it caused him was minimal...her jaws had opened his skin easily, but the thick muscle beneath had survived her attack. He winced in response to the pain coursing through his face, where her first attack had landed. His two good eyes eyed her resentfully.
"You're a liar!" he said, his mouth twisted in a grimace of anger and upset emotion. "I hate you, Cwmfen." He said this last bit with a tone that sounded a little too vehement to be the innocent raving of a child. No, Brennt was an adult...but a unique one, there was no doubt. He snorted and set off opposite the way he'd come. He really did hate Cwmfen, the girl who had led him on, and would continue to until the time came that thoughts of her fled his mind, and something new took his interest. Nevertheless, while his active hatred would subside, the stinging resentment, underlined by the pain in his cheek and shoulder, would persist, becoming another brick in the wall of bitterness he was gradually, but consistently building against the world of words and women, liars and bullies.
Beneath Brennt, the social identity that had been crafted by the mind itself and the minds of others as an interface with the social world, rested the bestial presence of a true wolf. A wolf untouched by the virus or by the shifting, untouched by speech and clothing and human tools and constructions. That presence could endure pain far in excess of anything a human could stand, could work through injury and exhaustion further than the more advanced minds that surrounded it. All wolves had this presence deep inside them, but only a few could access it. Subconsciously, for this creature was not fully self-aware, the force driving Brennt believed that the black wolf could access this deep strength, as well. She had achieved it, using her mind to unlock that ancient strength, where Brennt had only to let his mind go and all of the old ways were available to him. He could hunt, he could stalk, he could hide, he could fight. All he had to do was release himself from the weakness that the others accepted. Release himself from the identity they wanted for him, the identity they looked down on, the identity they exploited, like she had exploited his lust.
As she sought to shift position, it sought to keep up with her, circling the black female in turn. She was ready to die, or kill. It understood that its size would make it very difficult for her to kill, but its skin parted just as easily as hers did, and pursuing the battle long enough to corner and kill her--if it was able--may not be worth the trouble. The stinging had died down, and the beast opened its second eye, vision swimming back into focus as the colors behind its clenched eyelid faded. Something about that action, about the new sensory input from the opened eye, reset the large wolf's system, and while he continued circling, he blinked several times, until the dullness finally returned to his eyes. When it finally did, his steps only continued for a few more heartbeats, before his eyes furrowed in consternation and anger, and he seemed both mad at her and confused as to what he was doing. The blood dripped from his shoulder, but the pain it caused him was minimal...her jaws had opened his skin easily, but the thick muscle beneath had survived her attack. He winced in response to the pain coursing through his face, where her first attack had landed. His two good eyes eyed her resentfully.
"You're a liar!" he said, his mouth twisted in a grimace of anger and upset emotion. "I hate you, Cwmfen." He said this last bit with a tone that sounded a little too vehement to be the innocent raving of a child. No, Brennt was an adult...but a unique one, there was no doubt. He snorted and set off opposite the way he'd come. He really did hate Cwmfen, the girl who had led him on, and would continue to until the time came that thoughts of her fled his mind, and something new took his interest. Nevertheless, while his active hatred would subside, the stinging resentment, underlined by the pain in his cheek and shoulder, would persist, becoming another brick in the wall of bitterness he was gradually, but consistently building against the world of words and women, liars and bullies.