05-18-2009, 07:18 PM
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Sorry for the delay~ I hadn’t seen this post, OnO
500+
It was strange—the warrior didn’t understand why an attack was not made. Or perhaps she was not meant to understand. Onus had said (or had he hinted) that some creatures had no motive, that some creatures simply did. Perhaps this coyote was one such creature. It would definitely make sense, for she remembered those crazed attacks, the crazed look within those red eyes. And now, as the white orbs steadily held the male’s gaze, that eccentricity seemed subdued—but it was there, like something that was not quite right and yet not completely wrong. Perhaps there was nothing truly compelling this creature, but she would never know for sure. Certainly, she could only know her speculations, and this was not knowing at all. It bothered her, especially because such tendencies existed within her father. The warrior simply watched the male because it was all she could do. She was not yet strong enough and not yet quick enough to effectively ward him off. And yet—still there was nothing.
You’re wrong. The black fae watched him—what did he mean? Slowly she raised herself up, her front limbs propping up her body without averting her gaze. There was a soreness in those movements, no doubt induced by the change, but the pain was no longer prominent if even present. And the warrior was silent for a moment. His cough and his voice disrupted her thoughts, somehow blocking the natural flow that should have persisted. But it was as if he understood—yes, perhaps she was not waiting for the healing. But what was she waiting for? The woad marked fae found that she could not answer that, could not understand what he meant. "You’re right.... but what I have I been waiting for, if not to live?" For a moment those white orbs strayed to the grasses about her. For her, living meant being able to fight, and that was for what her life was lived. The white orbs lifted to those strange, red eyes, curious, questioning. She had been waiting for something not physical.... Then mentally she had been waiting. It was strange that this creature invoked such confusion, however superficial.
"If not physically, then how do I exist?" The warrior’s head tilted as her soft melody danced upon the air. Gradually she had begun to relax, convinced that he would do nothing more than to speak to her. Involuntarily, she leaned forward slightly, wondering at the end of his thought—and yet it was never completed. A new idea was introduced (or was it a continuation?). "Don’t you?" He had fought her, and the warrior believed that one of the ways of knowing another was to partake in one on one combat. Perhaps he did not know things in this way. "I am Cwmfen nic Graine, from Dahlia de Mai. Or perhaps that is merely the physical," the quiet melody added as an afterthought. She fell silent once more, intrigued by the thoughtprocess of this creature that she could not understand. "Perhaps I don’t know you either," she said at length. It was all that could be said.
Sorry for the delay~ I hadn’t seen this post, OnO
500+
It was strange—the warrior didn’t understand why an attack was not made. Or perhaps she was not meant to understand. Onus had said (or had he hinted) that some creatures had no motive, that some creatures simply did. Perhaps this coyote was one such creature. It would definitely make sense, for she remembered those crazed attacks, the crazed look within those red eyes. And now, as the white orbs steadily held the male’s gaze, that eccentricity seemed subdued—but it was there, like something that was not quite right and yet not completely wrong. Perhaps there was nothing truly compelling this creature, but she would never know for sure. Certainly, she could only know her speculations, and this was not knowing at all. It bothered her, especially because such tendencies existed within her father. The warrior simply watched the male because it was all she could do. She was not yet strong enough and not yet quick enough to effectively ward him off. And yet—still there was nothing.
You’re wrong. The black fae watched him—what did he mean? Slowly she raised herself up, her front limbs propping up her body without averting her gaze. There was a soreness in those movements, no doubt induced by the change, but the pain was no longer prominent if even present. And the warrior was silent for a moment. His cough and his voice disrupted her thoughts, somehow blocking the natural flow that should have persisted. But it was as if he understood—yes, perhaps she was not waiting for the healing. But what was she waiting for? The woad marked fae found that she could not answer that, could not understand what he meant. "You’re right.... but what I have I been waiting for, if not to live?" For a moment those white orbs strayed to the grasses about her. For her, living meant being able to fight, and that was for what her life was lived. The white orbs lifted to those strange, red eyes, curious, questioning. She had been waiting for something not physical.... Then mentally she had been waiting. It was strange that this creature invoked such confusion, however superficial.
"If not physically, then how do I exist?" The warrior’s head tilted as her soft melody danced upon the air. Gradually she had begun to relax, convinced that he would do nothing more than to speak to her. Involuntarily, she leaned forward slightly, wondering at the end of his thought—and yet it was never completed. A new idea was introduced (or was it a continuation?). "Don’t you?" He had fought her, and the warrior believed that one of the ways of knowing another was to partake in one on one combat. Perhaps he did not know things in this way. "I am Cwmfen nic Graine, from Dahlia de Mai. Or perhaps that is merely the physical," the quiet melody added as an afterthought. She fell silent once more, intrigued by the thoughtprocess of this creature that she could not understand. "Perhaps I don’t know you either," she said at length. It was all that could be said.