03-11-2009, 02:31 PM
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500+
The tuft of fur hid in her fist and was forgotten. The warrior was grateful for the coyote’s silent understanding. She was glad that he did not rush to her aid as others would, to hold her up when she could hold herself. There was not an overbearing sense of pride within the warrior, who practiced the quiet existence of an enlightened warrior, but what pride she had was there, flickering now faintly. But the other seemed recognized that and refrained from doing so. The woad marked fae smiled her thanks to him, a faint gesture, but a genuine one nonetheless. Briefly, the white orbs watched as he came near to her and noted his health. At least he, who followed a nobler cause than she, was well.
Cwmfen frowned slightly as he asked, reminiscing once more upon the entire scene. Before she answered, the white orbs looked past the blindfolded coy, her eyes drinking in the darkened waters and the shore and the dried grasses. She wondered what it had looked like from there—the fight, that is. And all she could remember was her attacker’s face, and his scent, and the scent of their blood intermingling as they had battled. Then, with the sound of her own snarls echoing in her memory, the female turned her gaze to the male at her side. “I was attacked by an Inferni coyote.” The alto melody was quiet as she spoke, but she did not mind sharing this with the vigilante, feeling that it might be at least be of interest to him. “I had fallen through the ice,” she said at length, and motioned to the lake, but it was thawed now, the waters warmer without the threat of death mingling in their depths. “And I failed to overcome him.” The last was said with a certain amount of darkness flickering in that melody. There was no humiliation in her, however. But there was the though that she may have shown weakness in Dahlia to Inferni, and that troubled her.
Her body grew tired again, her muscles trembling with the effort. “Do you mind if we sit?” the female asked with a wry smile, and she lowered herself to her knees first before sitting. She grit her teeth against the tightness in her hip that threatened to rip, but it held against the strain. She would have lain, but the grass was harsh against her back, and so she carefully held herself up with her left arm. The warrior then looked back at the coyote, responding to him with her light song. “But if all problems were solved, there would be no use for people like us.” And of course, perhaps that was a good thing. “I heard whispers of such a thing, and I thought of you,” the she-wolf said with a smile. And she had been right to think that this male would be there in his endless battle for that blind mistress Justice. “I wish I could help, but I know less than you do of these strange calamities.” Her smile became apologetic.
The tuft of fur hid in her fist and was forgotten. The warrior was grateful for the coyote’s silent understanding. She was glad that he did not rush to her aid as others would, to hold her up when she could hold herself. There was not an overbearing sense of pride within the warrior, who practiced the quiet existence of an enlightened warrior, but what pride she had was there, flickering now faintly. But the other seemed recognized that and refrained from doing so. The woad marked fae smiled her thanks to him, a faint gesture, but a genuine one nonetheless. Briefly, the white orbs watched as he came near to her and noted his health. At least he, who followed a nobler cause than she, was well.
Cwmfen frowned slightly as he asked, reminiscing once more upon the entire scene. Before she answered, the white orbs looked past the blindfolded coy, her eyes drinking in the darkened waters and the shore and the dried grasses. She wondered what it had looked like from there—the fight, that is. And all she could remember was her attacker’s face, and his scent, and the scent of their blood intermingling as they had battled. Then, with the sound of her own snarls echoing in her memory, the female turned her gaze to the male at her side. “I was attacked by an Inferni coyote.” The alto melody was quiet as she spoke, but she did not mind sharing this with the vigilante, feeling that it might be at least be of interest to him. “I had fallen through the ice,” she said at length, and motioned to the lake, but it was thawed now, the waters warmer without the threat of death mingling in their depths. “And I failed to overcome him.” The last was said with a certain amount of darkness flickering in that melody. There was no humiliation in her, however. But there was the though that she may have shown weakness in Dahlia to Inferni, and that troubled her.
Her body grew tired again, her muscles trembling with the effort. “Do you mind if we sit?” the female asked with a wry smile, and she lowered herself to her knees first before sitting. She grit her teeth against the tightness in her hip that threatened to rip, but it held against the strain. She would have lain, but the grass was harsh against her back, and so she carefully held herself up with her left arm. The warrior then looked back at the coyote, responding to him with her light song. “But if all problems were solved, there would be no use for people like us.” And of course, perhaps that was a good thing. “I heard whispers of such a thing, and I thought of you,” the she-wolf said with a smile. And she had been right to think that this male would be there in his endless battle for that blind mistress Justice. “I wish I could help, but I know less than you do of these strange calamities.” Her smile became apologetic.