06-21-2009, 08:59 PM
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
The black fae gave a slight nod. "The worth of my tail would not be as great if you stole it," the alto song agreed. "So you’re an artist, of sorts," the warrior replied. Art was a war—that was her art. But this male...she did not think that his art was war. He seemed more eccentric than war, and somehow more sinister. She did not know what to call it—perhaps if she better knew him. But then again, did she not know him? They had partaken in battle, and she had seen the frenzy in him that was so unlike her own. He took possessions, he took mementos of his slain victims. She had seen the skulls that lined the boarders of Inferni, but she thought that the coyote’s abode would be decorated in a different manner. "I don’t keep anything but life. That way, when I die, there’s nothing that’s left behind." A soft smile flickered across her maw. Nothing save for the metal of those weapons that would be swallowed by the earth.
"But you are so certain," the warrior countered suddenly, having dwelt upon his choice of words. She wondered, then, if he would be the one to end her life, and if in doing so he would have earned the right to the possessing of her tail. "Perhaps you will not have earned my tail, or perhaps I outlive you." The white orbs looked up at those red eyes so like the blood that moved through all of life’s veins. And yet it was like blood misused, created for a wrong purpose. Or perhaps he was a balance in the equation of life, a control. "What will you do then?" The woman was curious, for he thought in absolutes as she did not. And only those creatures pure of darkness thought in absolutes.
Feeling that today would not be the day her life would be ended, the woman lowed her head, resting it upon her paws as a great weariness suddenly passed over her. She sighed, her eyes becoming half lidded as her healed body warmed in the light of the sun. "Perhaps you will kill me." The alto voice was quiet, as relaxed as it always was. "Perhaps I’ll hear you calling for me one day, and perhaps I will come. Or perhaps you will hear my weakness calling you, and perhaps you will come." The future was uncertain for the woad marked warrior. But she was a mortal, and she was a wolf. Her concern was not for the future but for the present. The past was simply a thing to learn from but not to live in. And now, in the present, there was only that strange, ethereal contentment.
The woad tipped tail flickered once behind her, the grass responding with quiet whispers. "When you take my tail, you will be the only one who will have a remnant of my physical existence." Indeed, it would not simply be a memory held within a trinket, within a weapon. It would be a part of her body, and she did not think that others would take such a thing from her body as the coyote now sought to do. "Why do you want that?"
500+
The black fae gave a slight nod. "The worth of my tail would not be as great if you stole it," the alto song agreed. "So you’re an artist, of sorts," the warrior replied. Art was a war—that was her art. But this male...she did not think that his art was war. He seemed more eccentric than war, and somehow more sinister. She did not know what to call it—perhaps if she better knew him. But then again, did she not know him? They had partaken in battle, and she had seen the frenzy in him that was so unlike her own. He took possessions, he took mementos of his slain victims. She had seen the skulls that lined the boarders of Inferni, but she thought that the coyote’s abode would be decorated in a different manner. "I don’t keep anything but life. That way, when I die, there’s nothing that’s left behind." A soft smile flickered across her maw. Nothing save for the metal of those weapons that would be swallowed by the earth.
"But you are so certain," the warrior countered suddenly, having dwelt upon his choice of words. She wondered, then, if he would be the one to end her life, and if in doing so he would have earned the right to the possessing of her tail. "Perhaps you will not have earned my tail, or perhaps I outlive you." The white orbs looked up at those red eyes so like the blood that moved through all of life’s veins. And yet it was like blood misused, created for a wrong purpose. Or perhaps he was a balance in the equation of life, a control. "What will you do then?" The woman was curious, for he thought in absolutes as she did not. And only those creatures pure of darkness thought in absolutes.
Feeling that today would not be the day her life would be ended, the woman lowed her head, resting it upon her paws as a great weariness suddenly passed over her. She sighed, her eyes becoming half lidded as her healed body warmed in the light of the sun. "Perhaps you will kill me." The alto voice was quiet, as relaxed as it always was. "Perhaps I’ll hear you calling for me one day, and perhaps I will come. Or perhaps you will hear my weakness calling you, and perhaps you will come." The future was uncertain for the woad marked warrior. But she was a mortal, and she was a wolf. Her concern was not for the future but for the present. The past was simply a thing to learn from but not to live in. And now, in the present, there was only that strange, ethereal contentment.
The woad tipped tail flickered once behind her, the grass responding with quiet whispers. "When you take my tail, you will be the only one who will have a remnant of my physical existence." Indeed, it would not simply be a memory held within a trinket, within a weapon. It would be a part of her body, and she did not think that others would take such a thing from her body as the coyote now sought to do. "Why do you want that?"