03-25-2009, 08:49 PM
[html]
500+
The world was still lay in the tenebrous realm of the moon, hidden that night by the clouds. It was quiet, comfortable, untroubled. Cwmfen lay in a quiet sleep, untroubled for once by the pains of her body. The shadows embraced her softly with arms of down, a gentle, caressing touch. The warrior slept within the clearing in which she had practiced daily her martial techniques, but since the wounds were inflicted, she had taken a necessary hiatus in order to ensure that she would not be permanently hindered in her movements. Gaining the flexibility would be a slower process, but she was not concerned with time. As long as she could return to that life, the warrior would live. But now she slept under the night sky, her dreams guided by the dark feathers of the Raven, who wheeled absently in the heavens above. His movements were slow, spiraling and carving shapes in the air with his wings....
Cwmfen woke with a start. Her Dream was troubled once again by ominous images. The colour of her Raven had flickered in her mind with the instability of violent flames, black and white, colourless, draining, suffocating. But she thought that she new those colours, so similar and yet different from the Raven. She thought that the Dream spoke of a coming, the arrival of something or someone, or perhaps the coming of an event. But the night stole away the urgency of the dream, and those images of black and white receded back into the recesses of her mind. With a sigh, the warrior rose. She had slept upon her stomach once again, resting her head upon her arms. But upon rising, she was alert, aware for the pull in her back. When no immediate sensation arose, the female was relieved. Silently, she walked back to her den, using the stealth of a killer in the night. But when she reached her den, there was an emptiness in the air, and the fresh, almost warm scent of the girl Svara trailed from the den’s mouth. Curiosity rose within her as the warrior changed her course.
The woad marked fae entered the clearing, finding that Svara was now sharing the company of Cercelee and of a black fae she did not recognize. She entered just as the girl dropped the cloth from her eyes, showing the adults the scars that marred her vision. It could be worse, the warrior thought. At least it was healing—the scars were definitely better than they had been when last she had seen them uncovered at the scene of the crime. “We would not wish this upon any member of the pack.” Cwmfen’s alto melody was soft, gentle. But she could not help but see the irony of it all. The girl who had been blind to the workings of her own character became now physically blind. As the warrior’s fluid movements ceased, she turned to look at Cercelee, her gaze only briefly flickering across the other woman in greeting. “Such calamity was no accident....” And the female paused, wondering if Haku had yet met with the Rosea to regale her of the happenings of that day.
The world was still lay in the tenebrous realm of the moon, hidden that night by the clouds. It was quiet, comfortable, untroubled. Cwmfen lay in a quiet sleep, untroubled for once by the pains of her body. The shadows embraced her softly with arms of down, a gentle, caressing touch. The warrior slept within the clearing in which she had practiced daily her martial techniques, but since the wounds were inflicted, she had taken a necessary hiatus in order to ensure that she would not be permanently hindered in her movements. Gaining the flexibility would be a slower process, but she was not concerned with time. As long as she could return to that life, the warrior would live. But now she slept under the night sky, her dreams guided by the dark feathers of the Raven, who wheeled absently in the heavens above. His movements were slow, spiraling and carving shapes in the air with his wings....
Cwmfen woke with a start. Her Dream was troubled once again by ominous images. The colour of her Raven had flickered in her mind with the instability of violent flames, black and white, colourless, draining, suffocating. But she thought that she new those colours, so similar and yet different from the Raven. She thought that the Dream spoke of a coming, the arrival of something or someone, or perhaps the coming of an event. But the night stole away the urgency of the dream, and those images of black and white receded back into the recesses of her mind. With a sigh, the warrior rose. She had slept upon her stomach once again, resting her head upon her arms. But upon rising, she was alert, aware for the pull in her back. When no immediate sensation arose, the female was relieved. Silently, she walked back to her den, using the stealth of a killer in the night. But when she reached her den, there was an emptiness in the air, and the fresh, almost warm scent of the girl Svara trailed from the den’s mouth. Curiosity rose within her as the warrior changed her course.
The woad marked fae entered the clearing, finding that Svara was now sharing the company of Cercelee and of a black fae she did not recognize. She entered just as the girl dropped the cloth from her eyes, showing the adults the scars that marred her vision. It could be worse, the warrior thought. At least it was healing—the scars were definitely better than they had been when last she had seen them uncovered at the scene of the crime. “We would not wish this upon any member of the pack.” Cwmfen’s alto melody was soft, gentle. But she could not help but see the irony of it all. The girl who had been blind to the workings of her own character became now physically blind. As the warrior’s fluid movements ceased, she turned to look at Cercelee, her gaze only briefly flickering across the other woman in greeting. “Such calamity was no accident....” And the female paused, wondering if Haku had yet met with the Rosea to regale her of the happenings of that day.