07-04-2009, 03:06 PM
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Does she know that Onus went to see Cer?
700+
The warrior’s spirit grew restless. The process of healing always did that to her. For the first week, she had been too weak to move much, and the stitching did not allow her such freedom. With the food that Onus had brought to her, she had slowly regained her strength and her health. Silently, she was grateful for that, and yet she could find no words to thank him. He did not have to hunt as frequently as he did, nor did he have to bring to her as much as he did. But with her increasing hunger, she realized the necessity of food. The litter that grew within her took much of her energy and food, slowing the process for her but allowing her to rest with ease. As evidence of her rape continued to grow more apparent, the woman’s heart felt a flicker of fear. Every time he left and she awoke with the solitude, she wondered if he had left with disgust in his heart. But she did not expect him to be at her side, and she was fine for those hours alone. She was silent much of the time, speaking very little. The woman withdrew into herself, though the cause of it was uncertain even to her. But no words could express the relief and the love she felt each time he returned.
Often, when she awoke to find her lover gone, the woman had tested her strength. She rose slowly to sitting, pushing herself off the bed with her right arm, for the left could endure nothing with the wound upon her neck hindering it. The first several times, she nearly fell, but she caught herself against the wall. Even when she stood it had been difficult to move without risking tearing the flesh upon her thigh. The wound that Brennt had made upon her was deep—his teeth had marked the bone—and the pain was both sharp and dull, a combination that was quite unpleasant. But the mere act of standing had been enough. She did not want to continue lying as she had. As time progressed and she grew restless, she pushed herself to walk along the perimeter of the room, pausing at times to look out the window, to feel the sun and the wind. But her balance continued to grow precarious. With her belly extending and her weight shifting, she struggled to maintain her balance as she limped along that path, one hand pressed against the wall while the other held her stomach. She thought often of the life that stirred within her.
That morning, she had risen with the dawn, and she sat in the half-light upon the edge of the bed. The right hand held her sword. She listened to that quiet hum of war, and she contemplated it. With her pregnancy, there would be little that she could do with the sword. Even if her wounds healed, she would have to wait to birth the growing thing sown by a black wind. The woman looked at the dull reflection upon the blade, the fingers of her left hand idly touching the crude stitch work with gentle fingers. The white orbs found themselves in the blade before they turned to consider the world with out the window and finally her pregnant belly. Her eyes explored the woad line that curved along its circumference to her navel, and her woad bound finger rose to stroke the fur there. Strange that such a thing should come to her. She was not prepared to carry her own. She had never believed herself capable of such a thing. But the thought of aborting the life within her never crossed the female’s mind. Regardless of the circumstances, it was still life that stirred within her. She could not kill it.... not yet.
With a quiet sigh, the woman set the Badb aside, leaning the blade against the wall. The song fell from her fingers, and the room was quiet once more with naught but the whisper of the world. Those white eyes sought the coyote, and upon finding him she was silent for a moment as if forgetting how to break it. "Onus..." the alto melody was quiet as she called his name. "I must return to Dahlia." The melody rose in volume, and there was a certainty within her voice, as if that were the only choice that remained. There was a quiet sadness within those eyes. She did not want to leave his side, but she no longer wished to burden him with her care, nor did she wish to burden him with the litter that was not his, that belonged to his enemy.
Does she know that Onus went to see Cer?
700+
The warrior’s spirit grew restless. The process of healing always did that to her. For the first week, she had been too weak to move much, and the stitching did not allow her such freedom. With the food that Onus had brought to her, she had slowly regained her strength and her health. Silently, she was grateful for that, and yet she could find no words to thank him. He did not have to hunt as frequently as he did, nor did he have to bring to her as much as he did. But with her increasing hunger, she realized the necessity of food. The litter that grew within her took much of her energy and food, slowing the process for her but allowing her to rest with ease. As evidence of her rape continued to grow more apparent, the woman’s heart felt a flicker of fear. Every time he left and she awoke with the solitude, she wondered if he had left with disgust in his heart. But she did not expect him to be at her side, and she was fine for those hours alone. She was silent much of the time, speaking very little. The woman withdrew into herself, though the cause of it was uncertain even to her. But no words could express the relief and the love she felt each time he returned.
Often, when she awoke to find her lover gone, the woman had tested her strength. She rose slowly to sitting, pushing herself off the bed with her right arm, for the left could endure nothing with the wound upon her neck hindering it. The first several times, she nearly fell, but she caught herself against the wall. Even when she stood it had been difficult to move without risking tearing the flesh upon her thigh. The wound that Brennt had made upon her was deep—his teeth had marked the bone—and the pain was both sharp and dull, a combination that was quite unpleasant. But the mere act of standing had been enough. She did not want to continue lying as she had. As time progressed and she grew restless, she pushed herself to walk along the perimeter of the room, pausing at times to look out the window, to feel the sun and the wind. But her balance continued to grow precarious. With her belly extending and her weight shifting, she struggled to maintain her balance as she limped along that path, one hand pressed against the wall while the other held her stomach. She thought often of the life that stirred within her.
That morning, she had risen with the dawn, and she sat in the half-light upon the edge of the bed. The right hand held her sword. She listened to that quiet hum of war, and she contemplated it. With her pregnancy, there would be little that she could do with the sword. Even if her wounds healed, she would have to wait to birth the growing thing sown by a black wind. The woman looked at the dull reflection upon the blade, the fingers of her left hand idly touching the crude stitch work with gentle fingers. The white orbs found themselves in the blade before they turned to consider the world with out the window and finally her pregnant belly. Her eyes explored the woad line that curved along its circumference to her navel, and her woad bound finger rose to stroke the fur there. Strange that such a thing should come to her. She was not prepared to carry her own. She had never believed herself capable of such a thing. But the thought of aborting the life within her never crossed the female’s mind. Regardless of the circumstances, it was still life that stirred within her. She could not kill it.... not yet.
With a quiet sigh, the woman set the Badb aside, leaning the blade against the wall. The song fell from her fingers, and the room was quiet once more with naught but the whisper of the world. Those white eyes sought the coyote, and upon finding him she was silent for a moment as if forgetting how to break it. "Onus..." the alto melody was quiet as she called his name. "I must return to Dahlia." The melody rose in volume, and there was a certainty within her voice, as if that were the only choice that remained. There was a quiet sadness within those eyes. She did not want to leave his side, but she no longer wished to burden him with her care, nor did she wish to burden him with the litter that was not his, that belonged to his enemy.