03-13-2009, 12:27 AM
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Oh! I saw “The Watchmen” today, ^=^ The story line didn’t impress me, but some of the content was cool, ^=^ Now I know a little more about that one guy that Onus is based off of (Rorschach?) and your title, ^=^
500+
The warrior felt a small measure of relief when the blindfolded coy sat with her. She noted his erect posture and was impressed by his disciplined mind. The white orbs, bright even in the dim darkness of the night, saw him watching her—or at least felt his gaze upon her—and tried to ignore the weakness of her body. But somehow, she felt that his gaze was not degradingly critical. A smile flickered across the black fae’s maw. “You were right to suspect,” the female replied quietly, but she wondered whether that attack was enough evidence for him. She wondered how the male had come by his strange intuition, that intuition that seemed to read and know things even in the dead silence of ignorance and deception. Justice had an excellent servant indeed. “That clan has had conflicts with my pack in the past. It was an unwise move for that coyote to attack a Dahlian, especially a leader.” The female contemplated this fact, and she wondered why indeed her attacker had attempted to take her life. And he had nearly succeeded. But this second chance that Bane had given her was almost miraculous in the warriors mind, for, to her, there was only victory and death.
They. The female grimaced inwardly but kept her outward expression quite still. If only there had been more than one attacker. “He was...black and brown. Perhaps with some lighter shades in between....” It was difficult for her as she had never gotten a clear look for all the frenzied attacks he had thrown at her. Frenzied, untrained. And still she had not overcome him. “But his eyes were red,” she said, suddenly remembering those strange eyes devoid of reason. “Like blood.” Then she fell silent for several moments as she looked up at the world that opened out before her, and she listened to the soft song of the night and to the soft whisper of the feather as the wind sighed upon her hair. The scene was so peaceful now, as if in denial of what had happened. Or perhaps what had happened did not even matter. It had passed and lives had been allowed to continue.
“But I have a chance to improve myself,” the female said quietly, almost inaudibly. Then she listened to the sound of her body’s injured song and felt that incessant pain, quiet now in the presence of another. She looked back to the blindfolded coyote and smiled faintly, those white orbs almost glowing in the night. “I don’t think that I could live without it,” the warrior’s quiet melody replied. And she felt that it was true, that she could not live life fully without that conflict. It was a part of her soul, and without was she would be only part of a whole. Perhaps it was not a good thing for which to wish for, for societies constantly strove for peace, and so her passion was to kill for it.
The description of the scene that the male shared with her was strange. It was most definitely a scene of a crime, for creatures of honor did not disturb the bodies of the dead even if the dead were the sworn enemy. The mystery must have been something with which the male beside her now toiled over. She listened carefully to his description, and the peculiarity of the limbs caught her attention. “A missing limb?” the female repeated quietly to herself. She had heard of only one wolf with such a description, but she had never seen or smelt the creature. And the information had not come to her directly—she had overheard others speaking of it. But the female was often a taciturn creature for her introverted demeanor, and she had learned to listen well. “I have heard of one such male with a missing limb. I cannot recall his name.... Church, perhaps? I think that there is someone within Crimson Dreams that can tell you....” But the female wasn’t certain.
500+
The warrior felt a small measure of relief when the blindfolded coy sat with her. She noted his erect posture and was impressed by his disciplined mind. The white orbs, bright even in the dim darkness of the night, saw him watching her—or at least felt his gaze upon her—and tried to ignore the weakness of her body. But somehow, she felt that his gaze was not degradingly critical. A smile flickered across the black fae’s maw. “You were right to suspect,” the female replied quietly, but she wondered whether that attack was enough evidence for him. She wondered how the male had come by his strange intuition, that intuition that seemed to read and know things even in the dead silence of ignorance and deception. Justice had an excellent servant indeed. “That clan has had conflicts with my pack in the past. It was an unwise move for that coyote to attack a Dahlian, especially a leader.” The female contemplated this fact, and she wondered why indeed her attacker had attempted to take her life. And he had nearly succeeded. But this second chance that Bane had given her was almost miraculous in the warriors mind, for, to her, there was only victory and death.
They. The female grimaced inwardly but kept her outward expression quite still. If only there had been more than one attacker. “He was...black and brown. Perhaps with some lighter shades in between....” It was difficult for her as she had never gotten a clear look for all the frenzied attacks he had thrown at her. Frenzied, untrained. And still she had not overcome him. “But his eyes were red,” she said, suddenly remembering those strange eyes devoid of reason. “Like blood.” Then she fell silent for several moments as she looked up at the world that opened out before her, and she listened to the soft song of the night and to the soft whisper of the feather as the wind sighed upon her hair. The scene was so peaceful now, as if in denial of what had happened. Or perhaps what had happened did not even matter. It had passed and lives had been allowed to continue.
“But I have a chance to improve myself,” the female said quietly, almost inaudibly. Then she listened to the sound of her body’s injured song and felt that incessant pain, quiet now in the presence of another. She looked back to the blindfolded coyote and smiled faintly, those white orbs almost glowing in the night. “I don’t think that I could live without it,” the warrior’s quiet melody replied. And she felt that it was true, that she could not live life fully without that conflict. It was a part of her soul, and without was she would be only part of a whole. Perhaps it was not a good thing for which to wish for, for societies constantly strove for peace, and so her passion was to kill for it.
The description of the scene that the male shared with her was strange. It was most definitely a scene of a crime, for creatures of honor did not disturb the bodies of the dead even if the dead were the sworn enemy. The mystery must have been something with which the male beside her now toiled over. She listened carefully to his description, and the peculiarity of the limbs caught her attention. “A missing limb?” the female repeated quietly to herself. She had heard of only one wolf with such a description, but she had never seen or smelt the creature. And the information had not come to her directly—she had overheard others speaking of it. But the female was often a taciturn creature for her introverted demeanor, and she had learned to listen well. “I have heard of one such male with a missing limb. I cannot recall his name.... Church, perhaps? I think that there is someone within Crimson Dreams that can tell you....” But the female wasn’t certain.