08-11-2009, 11:39 AM
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Cercelee returned to her home without much optimism, knowing what awaited her. For the past month and a half she had watched the male she swore her life to fade further and further into a darkness she couldn’t understand. At first the male had kept up the guise of providing for his family, when he left for a quick hunt it had been a relief for the Rosea, even if he returned with nothing. As the days wore on his rare excursions became less and less until one day they disappeared completely and Slay had set up a permanent camp in their bed. Day and night he would be there, sleeping fitfully or awake with a blank expression on his face. In the beginning Cer had been supportive, talking to him, laying beside him, but now she left him his meals, licked his cheek and went about her business. There even came a time when she begun to avoid her own bedchambers, nothing worth going there for happen in the room anymore.
Yet at there were times she couldn’t avoid it, and now was one of them. Unless she swore off Slay completely he was still her partner, for better or worse, and she had to attempt to keep him tied into the family. They did have a family after all, but recently, during the night, it had shrunk once again, and Cercelee moved with a heavy heart as she nudged the door open with her snout. The white lady couldn’t imagine Slay taking the news with anything other than a dissatisfied sigh, turning over and further shutting her out from him. Yet he still had a right to know, and in her lupus form (for still she walked on four legs anywhere near Slay) she entered into the church.
The sight that greeted her caused her to pull back, had the door not closed shut behind her she would have backed right back out of the kitchen door. Through the doorframe, inside her bedroom she saw the creature and it took more than a moment to register. Cercelee had seen him in his halfling form, but fully shifted he was nearly unrecognizable, perhaps only because she never would have expected it. Yet the colors, except for his eyes, matched and it smelled like him. Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, Cercelee gingerly peered inside, her voice gentle and questioning. "Slay?"
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Cercelee returned to her home without much optimism, knowing what awaited her. For the past month and a half she had watched the male she swore her life to fade further and further into a darkness she couldn’t understand. At first the male had kept up the guise of providing for his family, when he left for a quick hunt it had been a relief for the Rosea, even if he returned with nothing. As the days wore on his rare excursions became less and less until one day they disappeared completely and Slay had set up a permanent camp in their bed. Day and night he would be there, sleeping fitfully or awake with a blank expression on his face. In the beginning Cer had been supportive, talking to him, laying beside him, but now she left him his meals, licked his cheek and went about her business. There even came a time when she begun to avoid her own bedchambers, nothing worth going there for happen in the room anymore.
Yet at there were times she couldn’t avoid it, and now was one of them. Unless she swore off Slay completely he was still her partner, for better or worse, and she had to attempt to keep him tied into the family. They did have a family after all, but recently, during the night, it had shrunk once again, and Cercelee moved with a heavy heart as she nudged the door open with her snout. The white lady couldn’t imagine Slay taking the news with anything other than a dissatisfied sigh, turning over and further shutting her out from him. Yet he still had a right to know, and in her lupus form (for still she walked on four legs anywhere near Slay) she entered into the church.
The sight that greeted her caused her to pull back, had the door not closed shut behind her she would have backed right back out of the kitchen door. Through the doorframe, inside her bedroom she saw the creature and it took more than a moment to register. Cercelee had seen him in his halfling form, but fully shifted he was nearly unrecognizable, perhaps only because she never would have expected it. Yet the colors, except for his eyes, matched and it smelled like him. Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, Cercelee gingerly peered inside, her voice gentle and questioning. "Slay?"
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