Near Whisper Beach, but where there would be some grass... >u< Can we backdate this to the 2nd?
500+


The woad warrior traveled swiftly with the Raven Spear in hand. The sun shone brightly through the break in the clouds, but such a thing was transitory. Soon its warmth fade as the clouds move in to bring darkness and cold upon the earth, weeping as if in regret. But for now the earth was dry, and the warrior was at ease. Indeed, she liked the darkness for she felt a comfort in its embrace. But the spring would bring new life, and it was a symbol of hope. She was not sure of what she hoped, but it was a reassuring sign. And briefly, she thought momentarily of the ash upon the mounting with the promise of life flickering beneath. And she thought of Ezekiel and their regular sparring meets. The two would meet again soon—tomorrow, she thought. The female took great pleasure in those meetings, more than she would have expected. But the boy was a refreshing creature, wiser already than most his age. And his love for war matched her own. There was no other choice for the female but to enjoy such a rarity.


The female, with the intent of traveling toward the lands of Inferni, paused. She turned to look at the sea in the distance as the grasses, some green and newly sprouted, wrapped themselves securely about her feet. Those waters were too far to hear, but she thought she could hear their whisper.... And she wondered why she noticed it now, for the sea was always there. But then, the tide and the incessant waves that beat upon the sandy shores whispered of time. Time. Suddenly, it occurred to the female that it was time, that her body was ready to return to that form she did love so. She set the spear into the earth as she knelt, testing the skin of her body. She had waited long enough for these wounds to heal, and the warrior thought herself ready. With a soft sigh, the white orbs were shut as she tried to remember the way in which the Change was invoked. And, with her concentrated will, the right pattern clicked and she began to Change.


It was slow, taking longer than usual perhaps because of her empty stomach. But it happened nonetheless. The wounds protested only faintly, but they were powerless now and melted away into a distant memory. Her body relaxed as it allowed the Change to occur, and the female felt a great relief. But she had not undergone this process in nearly a moon, and so, when she had regained that lupine form, she was drained of much of her energy. A soft, tranquil smile of her content graced the woad bound maw as she collapsed within the grass, laying on her side. But this exhaustion was almost breathtaking for the female, and for a moment she simply lay there, enjoying the simplicity of the world. Above, within the heavens that promptly shadowed the earth, the Raven was a distant speck.

500+


Cwmfen was at peace here, knowing that she could ignore the ever present reminder of time. Her sparring date with Ezekiel would not be for several hours, and she could be allowed to rest for this short while. The sun’s presence had been fleeting for the winter seasons, and the black fae was grateful for this day’s unexpected warmth. Knowing that it soon would be gone. The warrior was accustom to living for the moment, and she contemplated such a thing as she lived for this moment. The scars hummed quietly on her skin, as if still unwilling to let her go. As a warrior, she was keenly aware of life and of death, and she was aware that any moment may be her last. She had almost had her last moment a month ago, but that black, blue eyed male had been fated to save her. And yet, as a warrior, she would not have hated to die in such a way. In fact, she preferred it, for she did not wish to wait until her body was too old to move as she did now before Death came for her. But that battle had been without a reason, and such a defeat the warrior could not tolerate, especially had it resulted in death.


The wind and the rustling of the dry grass had obscured her senses, and the dozing warrior was caught off guard. Suddenly the scent was upon her, and for a moment the woman wondered whether it was a scent invoked by a memory or a scent invoked by true presence. But before she had opened her eyes, the voice, filled with that strange boredom, came to her ears with unfamiliar tones. During the battle, she had heard only his growls and snarls and silence, but the scent was enough for the woad marked fae to make the recognition. Her breathing changed from the soft whisper of sleep to the quiet murmur of wakefulness. The fae rose, lifting only her head from the grasses that sought to cradle it.


The white orbs met those red eyes, unafraid as she had been the day she had been attacked. But unlike that day, those eyes and that voice did not snarl at her, did not attack her. They were as indifferent as his words had been, and the woman was struck by that strangeness she had seen on but a few wolves. She was strangely calm, unmoved by his proximity. She had met him before, but she had not been permitted to perish. Now, with this dangerous proximity, there was nothing for her but to either die or live, and for now the male had chosen to be still. "Why have you approached?" the alto melody called quietly. She held both the strange resolve and the strange tranquility of a warrior, stronger now than it had been prior to his attack a moon ago. There was always something to be gained from defeat. The only things lost were pride and life.

500+


Even after she spoke, another silence filled the space between them. The coyote nearly seemed to be curious, those red eyes passing over her. And she knew that this gaze sought the scars which he had inflicted, and that he did not look over her carnally desiring her body. But it was not as if she expected him to. If rape had been his motive, he would have been satisfied long before the end of their battle with her weakness and would have used that moment of weakness to extract his desires. But that had not been the case. And it was not as if males desired her for her beauty, for she was not extraordinary. It was the woad that caught their attention, that distracted them. And so the war paint upon her had served only a part of its purpose, whether wanted or not. And it seemed as if this male looked at her coat only. And that smile, unmarred as it was by a snarl, was the same smile she had seen that moon ago.


He did not approach to attack either. Suddenly, the woman was reminded of that crow-wolf. This red eyed coyote was similar, but not the same. It was a superficial similarity that merely caught her attention, that brought warnings to her soul as she lay there unmoving. His reply was simple, and yet that simplicity seemed to hold a profundity. And the woman was silent for a moment as she contemplated those words. "Yes," she replied quietly. "I was waiting. And I have been waiting. I have been waiting for my body to heal so that I may live again." The words that were held by that alto melody took on a fierce tone. She had been patient as she had waited for such a thing, setting aside her need to move and fight so that her body may heal that she may fight again. And she had been waiting for that. And that time had come.


A soft sigh escaped the prone woman as if the sound released some sort of tension. The white orbs sought those red eyes. "It is strange that you have come when my waiting has ceased." The one of Nemain did not believe in coincidence, and she wondered what this male intended to do. "Have you come to finish the job? There’s no one stopping you." Bane was not here to save her, and she doubted that he would appear once again. While her own body was healing, her position left her at a disadvantage. And the shift that she had only recently undergone had left her winded and deprived of her full energy. There would be no fight should the coyote chose to attack. At least Haku would kill him after she was dead. The warrior could only hope for so much. "What’s stopping you now?" Had the leash been shortened at Inferni? She had heard that Haku had approached Gabriel, but she did not know the Inferni leader well enough—or at all—to decide what would have been done.

Sorry for the delay~ I hadn’t seen this post, OnO
500+


It was strange—the warrior didn’t understand why an attack was not made. Or perhaps she was not meant to understand. Onus had said (or had he hinted) that some creatures had no motive, that some creatures simply did. Perhaps this coyote was one such creature. It would definitely make sense, for she remembered those crazed attacks, the crazed look within those red eyes. And now, as the white orbs steadily held the male’s gaze, that eccentricity seemed subdued—but it was there, like something that was not quite right and yet not completely wrong. Perhaps there was nothing truly compelling this creature, but she would never know for sure. Certainly, she could only know her speculations, and this was not knowing at all. It bothered her, especially because such tendencies existed within her father. The warrior simply watched the male because it was all she could do. She was not yet strong enough and not yet quick enough to effectively ward him off. And yet—still there was nothing.


You’re wrong. The black fae watched him—what did he mean? Slowly she raised herself up, her front limbs propping up her body without averting her gaze. There was a soreness in those movements, no doubt induced by the change, but the pain was no longer prominent if even present. And the warrior was silent for a moment. His cough and his voice disrupted her thoughts, somehow blocking the natural flow that should have persisted. But it was as if he understood—yes, perhaps she was not waiting for the healing. But what was she waiting for? The woad marked fae found that she could not answer that, could not understand what he meant. "You’re right.... but what I have I been waiting for, if not to live?" For a moment those white orbs strayed to the grasses about her. For her, living meant being able to fight, and that was for what her life was lived. The white orbs lifted to those strange, red eyes, curious, questioning. She had been waiting for something not physical.... Then mentally she had been waiting. It was strange that this creature invoked such confusion, however superficial.


"If not physically, then how do I exist?" The warrior’s head tilted as her soft melody danced upon the air. Gradually she had begun to relax, convinced that he would do nothing more than to speak to her. Involuntarily, she leaned forward slightly, wondering at the end of his thought—and yet it was never completed. A new idea was introduced (or was it a continuation?). "Don’t you?" He had fought her, and the warrior believed that one of the ways of knowing another was to partake in one on one combat. Perhaps he did not know things in this way. "I am Cwmfen nic Graine, from Dahlia de Mai. Or perhaps that is merely the physical," the quiet melody added as an afterthought. She fell silent once more, intrigued by the thoughtprocess of this creature that she could not understand. "Perhaps I don’t know you either," she said at length. It was all that could be said.

Hybrid had to say something. He did not know what. He did not know how. But everything she was saying needed a reply. Some of it was true. Some of it was not. But Hybrid did not have the means nor the vocabulary to express his emotions. In fact, he was surprised he had made it this far. He was surprised she was still talking to him (and vice versa).



She spoke. And he listened.



"None of us need to live, do we?" he asked, after a slight pause. "What is the difference? When you live, you're a mass of... nothing. The only thing that separates us from carcasses are our breath and our feelings," he replied. It felt wrong to be saying it so crudely, but he did not know any other way to say it. He could not think of any better way to intonate his emotions. If he had known what he was trying to say, perhaps it would have been easier. Perhaps he wouldn't use all this reflexive verbs. Perhaps he would. "Why should you even care? We only exist because we don't know any other way of doing things. You're assuming we should exist. What if it goes against everything else?" He paused. Her other questions reminded him of something else. A thought? An emotion? No. He couldn't figure out what it was, but somehow, her thoughts were familiar. It was not the words she spoke, but the emotions conveyed in them. But Hybrid did not know. Hybrid didn't know a lot of things. In fact, he held very few conversations with other creatures because he just did not know. His conversation with bandit-coyote went to shit as soon as he finished talking. He couldn't lead the coyote on and pretend he knew more. He wasn't that smart. All he could do was attack. He could not plan or think if it did not involve moving, running, tearing, ripping, killing. He just did not know.




"Of course you don't exist," Hybrid replied at last. That was obvious. "I could never exist in any other way that was not physical. I can't think like you do. Or, I don't think I can. I might just be making this up. But you could tell the difference. I couldn't." Another pause. "Don't you see?" He flicked his ears as he remembered her name, her introduction. "Cwmfen nic Graine has nothing physical about it. You can say it, but can you touch it? Can you tear it apart?" Another pause. "I hate names." And: "I'm Hybrid Holocaust. Of Inferni" But he told her anyways. But he told her nonetheless. But he still spoke. And perhaps she still listened. Still. It implied she had begun to listen at some point. It implied she cared. Maybe she did. Maybe Hybrid wanted her to care. To care about what he said and what he meant. To think. To never exist.

500+


The woad tipped tail flickered in the grass as the lupus remained as she was, unmoving and yet quite alive. "Perhaps, and yet we move." There was a slight pause. "I did not desire to live—in the most literal sense—so much as to fight once more and be free." That was how the black fae defined living, but she assumed that others must define it differently. And yet, she was aware that freedom may have been less free than she considered it, for there were still rules upon life. But she lived for that freedom, for that most exhilarating experience of life, to be free even of the intimacy that could exist between two creatures, unbound by the chains of society.


"True. Our bodies lessen chaos, and the world likes chaos." the woman replied. "It is easier to die than to live; it makes the challenge worth while. But—life exists to reproduce and to persist, and for what reason?" The black fae truly did not know, and she had struggled often with that concept. In the end, did it really matter? She could do only what she was permitted and able by her own standards and boundaries—that was all. And yet... "But there has to be a reason; why would such a thing as life even exist if not for a reason?" But she did not imply that there was a religious solution to the question; while the black fae followed the Morrigan, she did not think that it was the gods who dictated that truth. And while she herself could not answer her own questions, she wondered if this coyote knew. He seemed to have something on his mind. "Must thought imply existence? What about the tree or the rock?" Did they not exist as well?


Hybrid Holocaust. It was a strange name, one with a destructive meaning behind those words. She had seen to what extent that destructive creature could do, and he had almost killed her. Almost. And even if she wished to challenge him now while he was here before her, she was not fit to do so. And so she was left with only a name to contemplate. "Names," the soft melody repeated. "Once we did not require such a thing." Nature did not label things for it was not necessary. Existence was all that seemed to matter. "And look at us now—it is the only way we communicate: with names. And what changed that?" There was a slight pause, but it was hardly noticeable. "A simple virus," came the answer. "The virus allows us to change our shape, and with our shape all has changed." There were very few creatures that existed as closely with the natural world as a true wolf—even those who had not been infected by the virus lived now with the ideals of those who had. While Cwmfen was a wilder creature than most, she was still very far from nature, a thing that often brought a certain emotion (frustration? discomfort?).

Hybrid regarded the girl as she spoke, his eyes not once moving from hers. She said a great deal, most of which he did not understand. He never could and never would. It would be impossible for him, since he was unlike most creatures out there. He was only able to speak of these things because he was conversing with the blue warrior. Had he been speaking to anyone else, he would have said nothing. He would have thought nothing. Not because he had nothing to think, but because no one gave him any reasons to think like this girl did. This only confused him more. Why, of all creatures, should the one he both understood and could never understand, be a female wolf? Of all the things he loathed in the world, it had to be this: her.



"Then we should all die," he replied in response to everything she said. Neither he nor her had any right to live. There was no charter, and there was no treatise declaring these rights. They assumed they should live, and through this assumption, many had thrived. But therein laid the key to their survival: that they remain blissfully unaware of everything around them, of everything that made them. Of everything that could unmake them. Of all the things Hybrid did know, he understood he was one who unmade things. He stopped living creatures and brought them to their death, just like he was supposed to.



Luperci assumed they deserved names. They assumed they should speak, and that they somehow had a right to use this virus. To their advantage, no less. Instead of fearing it like they should, they abused it and manipulated to manipulate themselves. Hybrid did this. But he felt no remorse, like Cwmfen seemed to. He wondered if she grieved for them. For everyone and their souls. He supposed they needed someone to. But at the same time, why burdone oneself with the duty? No one asked her to. But it was necessary. That was why he hoped to kill her one day.



"I hope I am the one who ends your existence," he noted. "It would be a beautiful conclusion. And then I will take your tail." He paused for a moment, wondering if he had told her that. He remembered thinking it - but had he told her? He frowned, then shook his head. It didn't matter. As long as she knew he wanted to deliver her into the chaos, where she belonged, he was satisfied.

500+


Her white eyes regarded the male. Those eyes the colour of blood were so intense and yet empty. It was not difficult for her to retain that visual contact, but it was difficult for her to see past the surface of that gaze. The she wolf shifted slightly, with effort and not without pain, though she did not allow her reactions to display such a thing. The warrior was uncomfortable with portraying weakness before this creature. She knew, reminding herself once more, that she would not be able to defend herself efficiently in such a state. And once more she reminded herself that the male continued to remain still. No attack ever came, and she did not even sense that one would come. At least not upon this day.


"And we do," the soft melody replied, "when our time has come." It was strange that the coyote should wish such a thing when life moved to that very state of Death. And perhaps, she considered, he meant that they should die at that very moment, should simply cease to exist. But that was a strange thing to wish as well. Nature created life, and in turn had created death. Without the former, the latter could not exist. It was the simple principle of dichotomies and paradoxes. The black warrior wondered at his reasoning, but she did not think that she could understand this mind as fully as she wished to. "Some give birth to a life so that life may persist. Others kill that life so that death may exist. And others yet.... they simply contribute nothing." And such creatures believed themselves to be the keepers of peace. But as a warrior, the woman could not understand how peace could be kept or even exist without war and violence. Such comprehension, however, was not a prerequisite to her existence.


"Perhaps my life will end in your jaws," the woman returned, her eyes holding a darkness that always accompanied Death. "Such a death would be beautiful indeed." The woad marked fae was a warrior, and she believed that to die in battle would be the most glorious way for her to die—with the songs of war ringing in her ears and the jaws of death finally closing upon her heart. It was the only way—she felt that it was inevitable. "And perhaps you will have earned my tail," she continued, believing it strange that he would desire such a thing. "But what happens to my body once life has ceased is not within my hands." And she fell silent for a moment, the white orbs watching the red eyes of the coyote. He was strange, unlike anyone she had ever met. The black fae was sure that he was mad, and yet there was a strange amount of control. "But why would you want my tail, of all things?" Even in the presence of this male, even with that very real threat upon her, the woman’s curiosity did not fail her.

She reasoned. Although Hybrid had both expected and anticipated this, somehow, it still surprised him. She was trying to take his words and make them into something sensible. She claimed that their bodies lessened the chaos, but in many ways, Hybrid wondered if it was true. In some ways, he could agree; their bodies were physical. They existed. One could touch a body and know it was there. Aye, there's the rub. There's the rub, indeed. To affirm the existence of such a body, one believes it in their mind. But what is there to say that their mind exists? What is there to say that anything around them is real, or worth touching? In that regard, Hybrid considered that while one's body could lessen the chaos, one's mind and actions only heightened it. But if Hybrid was balancing things through murder, was he not instead creating some sort of peace? And thereby, were his actions not doing the opposite of what he intended?



Damn the woman for trying to be sensible.



It was not something Hybrid could reason. Really, it was something he could only feel. That was why he could never explain it. He could do whatever it was he wanted to do, but that was it. That was it.



And we do when our time has come, she had said. But did that mean Hybrid was the one choosing the time? Or was something else? Hybrid tried to choose the time, but he had failed. Although he had not intended to kill Cwmfen, her existence proved it -- in some way or another.



"Were I to earn it, I would take your tail. But never before," he replied. He had no real code of honour aside his loyalty to Gabriel and to himself. He wondered if he had any loyalty to Inferni. Perhaps. But he doubted it. He had a greater purpose. Gabriel would guide him, as he always had.



He remained silent. He could see the girl watching him again. She was not staring at him, but rather, observing him. It was a strange sensation. Hybrid did not believe he had ever been observed in such a manner. Very few did that, anyways. He had barely looked at Vitium when they had sex; he doubted Vitium had looked at him. Hybrid had barely looked at Vitium when he had attempted to kill him -- twice. But no one had ever lingered. They left and took their memories with them. Of course, Hybrid did not desire to possess any of their thoughts, feelings, or emotions anyways -- so it was a strange experience. Hybrid felt as though he should examine her in return, but he already knew what he wanted.



"I usually take the skulls of my victims. Once, I decorated a meadow with a wolf's innards. But never have I taken their tail. You will be my first," he added, almost conversationally. When he possessed her, he would possess her most completely. He smiled. It would be beautiful. She knew.

500+


The black fae gave a slight nod. "The worth of my tail would not be as great if you stole it," the alto song agreed. "So you’re an artist, of sorts," the warrior replied. Art was a war—that was her art. But this male...she did not think that his art was war. He seemed more eccentric than war, and somehow more sinister. She did not know what to call it—perhaps if she better knew him. But then again, did she not know him? They had partaken in battle, and she had seen the frenzy in him that was so unlike her own. He took possessions, he took mementos of his slain victims. She had seen the skulls that lined the boarders of Inferni, but she thought that the coyote’s abode would be decorated in a different manner. "I don’t keep anything but life. That way, when I die, there’s nothing that’s left behind." A soft smile flickered across her maw. Nothing save for the metal of those weapons that would be swallowed by the earth.


"But you are so certain," the warrior countered suddenly, having dwelt upon his choice of words. She wondered, then, if he would be the one to end her life, and if in doing so he would have earned the right to the possessing of her tail. "Perhaps you will not have earned my tail, or perhaps I outlive you." The white orbs looked up at those red eyes so like the blood that moved through all of life’s veins. And yet it was like blood misused, created for a wrong purpose. Or perhaps he was a balance in the equation of life, a control. "What will you do then?" The woman was curious, for he thought in absolutes as she did not. And only those creatures pure of darkness thought in absolutes.


Feeling that today would not be the day her life would be ended, the woman lowed her head, resting it upon her paws as a great weariness suddenly passed over her. She sighed, her eyes becoming half lidded as her healed body warmed in the light of the sun. "Perhaps you will kill me." The alto voice was quiet, as relaxed as it always was. "Perhaps I’ll hear you calling for me one day, and perhaps I will come. Or perhaps you will hear my weakness calling you, and perhaps you will come." The future was uncertain for the woad marked warrior. But she was a mortal, and she was a wolf. Her concern was not for the future but for the present. The past was simply a thing to learn from but not to live in. And now, in the present, there was only that strange, ethereal contentment.


The woad tipped tail flickered once behind her, the grass responding with quiet whispers. "When you take my tail, you will be the only one who will have a remnant of my physical existence." Indeed, it would not simply be a memory held within a trinket, within a weapon. It would be a part of her body, and she did not think that others would take such a thing from her body as the coyote now sought to do. "Why do you want that?"