03-21-2009, 01:13 AM
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500+
“I’m sure he has....” The alto melody was a barely audible murmur, and the female nodded silently and was quiet, as if in thought. But if she were, the thought was both deep and superficial, as if the subconscious were surfacing and not the other way around. Her mind wandered over the flash of the attacker’s maniacal smile as he had moved to attack, and she turned that thought over in her mind as if feeling the weight of a cool river stone. “Some beings have a reason, whether it is hate or love or passion or jealosy. But he...” And the quiet melody paused as she turned that cool rock over again. “He was not even curious.... he was empty.” Creatures like that... there was something wrong with them, some imbalance within their mind. The female thought of the imbalance man had created in nature, and she thought and suspected that perhaps man’s legacy and that virus that allowed wolves like her to shift between three forms had epitomized itself within the minds of some. The minds like that of her attacker.
The white orbs turned to look at Onus, to try and meet his gaze that remained ever hidden from her view for that blindfold. She wondered once more, as she perpetually would, what eyes lay behind it. She wondered what his soul looked like from there. “I suppose if you found him, Justice would be served.” A faint smile flickered across her woad bound maw. The male was a unique creature. He was so able to remove himself from others, to see clearly and serve Justice without question. And she wondered if there were any other attachment and worth in his life aside from that intangible entity that he served. “But, if you have not, I will look myself.... once my wounds have healed.” And the warrior would try to be patient and wait for the day when she would be strong enough once more to defend herself and others.
And what would she do? She was already without her passion often. Peace did not make a good warrior—only good practice. But perpetual war was not a healthy thing for the earth, and the warrior understood that keenly. And so she was quiet, patient, enduring, as her mind and body had been trained to be. But life was a kind of battle, too. But she was curious once more about the blindfolded male. “What does a champion of Justice do when he does not pursue Her requirements?” Her musings were quiet, gentle, almost inaudible as if she were allowing him to ignore it. But then she thought that perhaps there was nothing else for him, that there was only that single cause. The black fae’s auds swiveled back momentarily as if listening for something before the returned at the sound of Onus’ voice.
“Yes, I think that was his name,” the female responded. But she did not lay her statement in an absolute, for she did not want any miscalculation to waste the coyote’s time. “I remember thinking how ironic it was—his name, I mean.” And the warrior had never met or seen the three legged creature in question, but she had remembered that the stories tied with that name were not glorious. It was an infamous name. Cwmfen turned to look at the male once more, wondering if he would depart from her company to pursue this mystery once more.
“I’m sure he has....” The alto melody was a barely audible murmur, and the female nodded silently and was quiet, as if in thought. But if she were, the thought was both deep and superficial, as if the subconscious were surfacing and not the other way around. Her mind wandered over the flash of the attacker’s maniacal smile as he had moved to attack, and she turned that thought over in her mind as if feeling the weight of a cool river stone. “Some beings have a reason, whether it is hate or love or passion or jealosy. But he...” And the quiet melody paused as she turned that cool rock over again. “He was not even curious.... he was empty.” Creatures like that... there was something wrong with them, some imbalance within their mind. The female thought of the imbalance man had created in nature, and she thought and suspected that perhaps man’s legacy and that virus that allowed wolves like her to shift between three forms had epitomized itself within the minds of some. The minds like that of her attacker.
The white orbs turned to look at Onus, to try and meet his gaze that remained ever hidden from her view for that blindfold. She wondered once more, as she perpetually would, what eyes lay behind it. She wondered what his soul looked like from there. “I suppose if you found him, Justice would be served.” A faint smile flickered across her woad bound maw. The male was a unique creature. He was so able to remove himself from others, to see clearly and serve Justice without question. And she wondered if there were any other attachment and worth in his life aside from that intangible entity that he served. “But, if you have not, I will look myself.... once my wounds have healed.” And the warrior would try to be patient and wait for the day when she would be strong enough once more to defend herself and others.
And what would she do? She was already without her passion often. Peace did not make a good warrior—only good practice. But perpetual war was not a healthy thing for the earth, and the warrior understood that keenly. And so she was quiet, patient, enduring, as her mind and body had been trained to be. But life was a kind of battle, too. But she was curious once more about the blindfolded male. “What does a champion of Justice do when he does not pursue Her requirements?” Her musings were quiet, gentle, almost inaudible as if she were allowing him to ignore it. But then she thought that perhaps there was nothing else for him, that there was only that single cause. The black fae’s auds swiveled back momentarily as if listening for something before the returned at the sound of Onus’ voice.
“Yes, I think that was his name,” the female responded. But she did not lay her statement in an absolute, for she did not want any miscalculation to waste the coyote’s time. “I remember thinking how ironic it was—his name, I mean.” And the warrior had never met or seen the three legged creature in question, but she had remembered that the stories tied with that name were not glorious. It was an infamous name. Cwmfen turned to look at the male once more, wondering if he would depart from her company to pursue this mystery once more.