05-19-2010, 08:44 AM
WC: 655.
Sorry for the wait. :]
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His words floated through the air as carelessly as a bee would travel amongst flowers. They polluted her mind like a distant plague, grating against her eardrums and causing her brain to fold in on itself. She had little care for this male’s past – in all honesty – however, politeness and etiquette were things she prided herself on, and she wasn’t about to let that slip now, even if the conversation bore her from the inside-out. Nodding quietly, she acknowledged his words and smiled – she wanted to show her consideration for his words, and the caring side of her; however, she figured that he would probably view her expression as more of a twisted grimace; perhaps shock-horror, or perhaps just plain ignorance. She would see.
“Harsh,” she growled finally, the image of this male holding a toothpick skipping across her mental imagery. His words had fallen across a dark cloud – speaking of a memory which clearly disturbed him, that glaze in his eyes said it all. “I’m sure that your bear looked fine.” That was all she could think to say; there wasn’t much else in the way of comfort. She couldn’t really relate to the situation – she had no siblings, she had no family. Once she had a family, but that was a long, long time ago and those were memories best left to rot. She had no care to dig up anything to do with that side of her life. It was the past, and that would remain just that.
Finally, the conversation skipped onto another subject; something Lucia was definitely more grateful for. She was an expert on the matter at hand. Blood, though it was not a desired trait, was one of her fields of knowledge – she was a soldier at heart, and that was going to be always the way. She prided herself on her warrior skills and hoped one day to put them to good use – yet, the matter of finding a place to settle down was a difficult one. She didn’t feel like she fitted in anywhere, and until someone came to her with open arms, she figured it was best to be alone; or at least, not a member of a pack. “Blood,” she rasped, her words momentarily caught in her throat – probably from the smoking; she would probably develop a cough sometime soon. It would not surprise her. “—Blood is the way of life. Without it, things cannot survive. With it, we can kill.” Her eyes lit up; the beautiful images of the murders she had committed, and the prey she had hunted. They made her smile, they made her happy. She was a hunter – a killer – and she would probably exercise this skill again soon enough.
“All spilling of blood is necessary in one way or another,” she argued his point with grace. There was wisdom in her voice; she definitely knew what she was talking about. “Whether it’s survival or ridding the world of an annoying counterpart – or perhaps just for food,” she paused, a calm smile on her maw. “The spilling of blood is always a requirement. Nobody can run from it...”
Watching him pull the tree, she was amused. He had strength, but the tree was still heavier than him. The thought crossed her mind to help out, but she decided against it. It wasn’t her battle – canine versus tree – why would she get involved? Smiling, she strolled beside him, eyes fixed atop the tree which twinned the one he pulled. He seemed to be thinking, but it wasn’t really her concern what about. It crossed her mind, like paranoia does, that he was thinking about her and her strange habits and views on the world, but it soon passed. She coughed slightly, phlegm building in the back of her throat; there was the musk of tobacco on her tongue. “So tell me,” she breathed, “is there anything you want to know?”
Sorry for the wait. :]
-----
His words floated through the air as carelessly as a bee would travel amongst flowers. They polluted her mind like a distant plague, grating against her eardrums and causing her brain to fold in on itself. She had little care for this male’s past – in all honesty – however, politeness and etiquette were things she prided herself on, and she wasn’t about to let that slip now, even if the conversation bore her from the inside-out. Nodding quietly, she acknowledged his words and smiled – she wanted to show her consideration for his words, and the caring side of her; however, she figured that he would probably view her expression as more of a twisted grimace; perhaps shock-horror, or perhaps just plain ignorance. She would see.
“Harsh,” she growled finally, the image of this male holding a toothpick skipping across her mental imagery. His words had fallen across a dark cloud – speaking of a memory which clearly disturbed him, that glaze in his eyes said it all. “I’m sure that your bear looked fine.” That was all she could think to say; there wasn’t much else in the way of comfort. She couldn’t really relate to the situation – she had no siblings, she had no family. Once she had a family, but that was a long, long time ago and those were memories best left to rot. She had no care to dig up anything to do with that side of her life. It was the past, and that would remain just that.
Finally, the conversation skipped onto another subject; something Lucia was definitely more grateful for. She was an expert on the matter at hand. Blood, though it was not a desired trait, was one of her fields of knowledge – she was a soldier at heart, and that was going to be always the way. She prided herself on her warrior skills and hoped one day to put them to good use – yet, the matter of finding a place to settle down was a difficult one. She didn’t feel like she fitted in anywhere, and until someone came to her with open arms, she figured it was best to be alone; or at least, not a member of a pack. “Blood,” she rasped, her words momentarily caught in her throat – probably from the smoking; she would probably develop a cough sometime soon. It would not surprise her. “—Blood is the way of life. Without it, things cannot survive. With it, we can kill.” Her eyes lit up; the beautiful images of the murders she had committed, and the prey she had hunted. They made her smile, they made her happy. She was a hunter – a killer – and she would probably exercise this skill again soon enough.
“All spilling of blood is necessary in one way or another,” she argued his point with grace. There was wisdom in her voice; she definitely knew what she was talking about. “Whether it’s survival or ridding the world of an annoying counterpart – or perhaps just for food,” she paused, a calm smile on her maw. “The spilling of blood is always a requirement. Nobody can run from it...”
Watching him pull the tree, she was amused. He had strength, but the tree was still heavier than him. The thought crossed her mind to help out, but she decided against it. It wasn’t her battle – canine versus tree – why would she get involved? Smiling, she strolled beside him, eyes fixed atop the tree which twinned the one he pulled. He seemed to be thinking, but it wasn’t really her concern what about. It crossed her mind, like paranoia does, that he was thinking about her and her strange habits and views on the world, but it soon passed. She coughed slightly, phlegm building in the back of her throat; there was the musk of tobacco on her tongue. “So tell me,” she breathed, “is there anything you want to know?”