The broken clock is a comfort

Mati Church · 04-25-2010, 09:29 AM

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The earth-hued female rounded the large house, eyes watching the dark clouds that hid the warm sun. It wasn’t the most pleasant of days, and the Church female wouldn’t have naturally been outside as she was. The light was horrible, low and dark, and the air smelt heavily of rain. But she was trying something new, something other then her more self centered habits. Mati knew her place, but Savina’s pups were still too young to be away from their mother’s care and thus her role had yet to come into affect really. Other days when her Nanny position couldn’t be filled she would sit and paint, or think up small stories or go for a walk if it was pleasant. The fey was slowly putting those tasks behind her, making them second to more important duties.

It was rare that she ever traced along the borders of the Dreamer’s lands, but she had set out today to do so. The experience at the barn had taught her a few things, and Mati would be hard pressed to forget them. One, and the most pressing in her mind, was Cambria. Her feelings towards the younger female were bordering on what she thought was love, and she didn’t feel like it could be far fetched to say: Mati felt as if it was already that. Though she had never truly felt such a way Mati didn’t know what other word to use to describe it. Everything else simply fell sort. Another was her mother, she felt a new connection with the adoptive dam and Mati knew she would have to seek her out soon and confess all her secrets to the wise woman. Mati found she had missed her through their months of silence. The last, was the pack. It was impossible for the female to not feel responsible for what had happened, being the one that arranged the meeting. It had placed them all in a danger that could have been avoided, and Mati found a new sense of protectiveness not only over the Marino girl but over the pack itself.

Thus she had trudged along the borders, defining the trail and looked for disturbances. She would get better the more she practiced. It was like mixing colors, or drawing anatomy it took concentration and repetition. She smelt of dirt and rain sodden air as she walked up the porch and into the Manor. There was a tired that had set in her form and the wolfess wondered idly into the house with a long low sigh. The scent of Savina’s sister was heavy in the air, more then the normal linger that milled with the rest of the house’s residence. The violet eyed female turned, walking towards the couch. She knew how hurt the woman was, having been there when Jaz had rushed her out of the barn. Slowly and quietly she approached Ghita, not wanting to disrupt any of her rest. Though her eyes were shut, the look on her face said that she was far from a peaceful sleep.

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