06-07-2009, 12:37 PM
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500+
The smell of blood did not bother the warrior, nor did Death. She continued to wonder why her father had decided that such a thing were necessary. Why did he just not seek her out, request an audience? But the woad marked fae knew the answer. Her father preferred to make dramatic performances in his threats—it was no doubt a thing he had learned while he had lead that gang in Korea. It was effective, but it was needless. The warrior knew also that her father did not see anyone, for to him that would be an act of submission. No, she would have to seek him out. And though she did, he continued to elude her.
The woman watched the small pup emerge from the tall grasses in which she had been hiding. Her progress was deliberately slow, but the warrior was patient, and watching the pup kept her mind from dwelling too deeply upon the anger that was now moving within her soul like the soft flickering of a flame for the death of Ril’o. And Catalyst’s posture was low, her tail tucked between her legs as she refused to lift her eyes. The black fae knew that the young girl now understood that she had been wrong, that disobeying and breaking the promise that had been made had been met with this horrific scene. And that would be enough for the warrior. It was enough that the girl understood her own fault. The warrior was simply relieved that her father had not killed the pup, for it would have been easy for him to do so. But then...the woman thought that perhaps allowing Catalyst to keep her life had been a deliberate choice. A quiet worry entered the warrior’s mind. The soul was just as important as the body, if not more so.
Where often the tears of pups would have caused a mild irritation within the warrior, the tears of the pup"Come here," the alto melody said softly with a somber affection. The woad bound fingers reached out as she picked up the little creature, holding her close to her. Her muzzle brushed against the pup’s head softly. It was not often—if ever—that the warrior displayed such affection, especially to a pup. But she did so now. Catalyst was one that she cared much for. Although they had only met once before, the warrior had sensed a great potential for greatness within her. She did not wish for that to be shattered by the scene that had been witnessed today. The woman was silent, simply holding her for a while. There were no words that the warrior could think of—offering comfort was a thing she with which she was adept. Perhaps Cercelee would be able to offer such a thing. The woman wished that the Rosea were here. The rites of death would need to be discussed. With a quiet sigh, the woman pulled back, taking Catalyst’s muzzle in her hand as she gently lifted it to meet her quiet gaze.
500+
The smell of blood did not bother the warrior, nor did Death. She continued to wonder why her father had decided that such a thing were necessary. Why did he just not seek her out, request an audience? But the woad marked fae knew the answer. Her father preferred to make dramatic performances in his threats—it was no doubt a thing he had learned while he had lead that gang in Korea. It was effective, but it was needless. The warrior knew also that her father did not see anyone, for to him that would be an act of submission. No, she would have to seek him out. And though she did, he continued to elude her.
The woman watched the small pup emerge from the tall grasses in which she had been hiding. Her progress was deliberately slow, but the warrior was patient, and watching the pup kept her mind from dwelling too deeply upon the anger that was now moving within her soul like the soft flickering of a flame for the death of Ril’o. And Catalyst’s posture was low, her tail tucked between her legs as she refused to lift her eyes. The black fae knew that the young girl now understood that she had been wrong, that disobeying and breaking the promise that had been made had been met with this horrific scene. And that would be enough for the warrior. It was enough that the girl understood her own fault. The warrior was simply relieved that her father had not killed the pup, for it would have been easy for him to do so. But then...the woman thought that perhaps allowing Catalyst to keep her life had been a deliberate choice. A quiet worry entered the warrior’s mind. The soul was just as important as the body, if not more so.
Where often the tears of pups would have caused a mild irritation within the warrior, the tears of the pup"Come here," the alto melody said softly with a somber affection. The woad bound fingers reached out as she picked up the little creature, holding her close to her. Her muzzle brushed against the pup’s head softly. It was not often—if ever—that the warrior displayed such affection, especially to a pup. But she did so now. Catalyst was one that she cared much for. Although they had only met once before, the warrior had sensed a great potential for greatness within her. She did not wish for that to be shattered by the scene that had been witnessed today. The woman was silent, simply holding her for a while. There were no words that the warrior could think of—offering comfort was a thing she with which she was adept. Perhaps Cercelee would be able to offer such a thing. The woman wished that the Rosea were here. The rites of death would need to be discussed. With a quiet sigh, the woman pulled back, taking Catalyst’s muzzle in her hand as she gently lifted it to meet her quiet gaze.