06-05-2009, 03:06 PM
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Woops, sorry about the wait!, OnO I was waiting to see if someone else would join, but let’s keep this thread moving, ^=^
500+
The woad bound ears, often left erected, pulled back with the remorse for the lost life. She listened to the dying tones of her own song upon the air, the strength of the emotion that laced her song unfamiliar even to her. The black fae looked down upon the still body of the golden male, her white eyes flickering with a strong anger—not the diluted emotion that often moved through her, but the entire, raging fire. And yet, the woman retained the control of her mind—she must not do anything irrational, and anger was an irrational emotion, overriding logic and other warnings that the mind would give. A heavy sigh escaped her woad bound maw as she continued to watch Ril’o’s body with such an intensity that it seemed as if she expected him to rise. But he did not. His life had been taken by her father.
For a moment the woman was alone, sitting beside the shell of a wolf that was once living. Her eyes traced the gaping hold upon his neck as if seeing another scene—it was familiar, she had seen this before.... When her mother had been killed, a young Cwmfen had been present. It had been another display of power and control by her merciless sire, and he was doing so again. And yet... the woman tilted her head, trying to remember with a strange, almost morbid curiosity. The woad bound fingers lightly traced the intact neck beneath the wound. Her mother had been torn, here, she thought as her path crossed the windpipe. And like Ril’o, her mother’s eyes had been open, urging her to run until they had fallen dark in the grasp of Death. The Adonis looked away—was history always meant to repeat itself? Gently, she closed the eyes of the dead wolf, allowing him to be gone from this world. What would Death be like, she wondered. But she knew, she had seen it before, had tasted it herself. She was not afraid of Death.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft sniffling. Her woad bound ears pricked forward, honing in upon the sound that was behind her. Catalyst. The child was young and yet had seen more than most wolves had. The warrior wondered for how long she had been with Ril’o, how much of the scene she had seen. But the woman would not ask. She knew that some things were better left in silence. Slowly, the woman turned, wiping her blood soaked hands upon the grass; she had seen those hands before too...in a Dream. Rising, the woman took several steps from the body before she knelt again, unwilling to travel too far. It was not the carrion birds she worried about, for to eat the flesh of the Dead was their purpose. Well, she didn’t really know why she didn’t want to leave Ril’o’s body. Perhaps it was something else, guilt perhaps. "Catalyst," the soft voice called gently. If only the pup had remained within the packlands and away from the boarders.
Woops, sorry about the wait!, OnO I was waiting to see if someone else would join, but let’s keep this thread moving, ^=^
500+
The woad bound ears, often left erected, pulled back with the remorse for the lost life. She listened to the dying tones of her own song upon the air, the strength of the emotion that laced her song unfamiliar even to her. The black fae looked down upon the still body of the golden male, her white eyes flickering with a strong anger—not the diluted emotion that often moved through her, but the entire, raging fire. And yet, the woman retained the control of her mind—she must not do anything irrational, and anger was an irrational emotion, overriding logic and other warnings that the mind would give. A heavy sigh escaped her woad bound maw as she continued to watch Ril’o’s body with such an intensity that it seemed as if she expected him to rise. But he did not. His life had been taken by her father.
For a moment the woman was alone, sitting beside the shell of a wolf that was once living. Her eyes traced the gaping hold upon his neck as if seeing another scene—it was familiar, she had seen this before.... When her mother had been killed, a young Cwmfen had been present. It had been another display of power and control by her merciless sire, and he was doing so again. And yet... the woman tilted her head, trying to remember with a strange, almost morbid curiosity. The woad bound fingers lightly traced the intact neck beneath the wound. Her mother had been torn, here, she thought as her path crossed the windpipe. And like Ril’o, her mother’s eyes had been open, urging her to run until they had fallen dark in the grasp of Death. The Adonis looked away—was history always meant to repeat itself? Gently, she closed the eyes of the dead wolf, allowing him to be gone from this world. What would Death be like, she wondered. But she knew, she had seen it before, had tasted it herself. She was not afraid of Death.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft sniffling. Her woad bound ears pricked forward, honing in upon the sound that was behind her. Catalyst. The child was young and yet had seen more than most wolves had. The warrior wondered for how long she had been with Ril’o, how much of the scene she had seen. But the woman would not ask. She knew that some things were better left in silence. Slowly, the woman turned, wiping her blood soaked hands upon the grass; she had seen those hands before too...in a Dream. Rising, the woman took several steps from the body before she knelt again, unwilling to travel too far. It was not the carrion birds she worried about, for to eat the flesh of the Dead was their purpose. Well, she didn’t really know why she didn’t want to leave Ril’o’s body. Perhaps it was something else, guilt perhaps. "Catalyst," the soft voice called gently. If only the pup had remained within the packlands and away from the boarders.