Return Upon the Silence of the Raven's Wings

Cwmfen nic Graine · 03-16-2012, 08:42 AM

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Table by me (Req)

Sounds good!
WC: 567

The white eyes drank in the dark shadows of the stone woods, unable to find warmth in its cold lifelessness. But then she paused, the stillness of her body strange—as if the world continued to move while she did not. The fathomless gaze found life beyond the struggling flora. It was another wolf, bearing no scent familiar to her. The Caledonian-Korean considered him with a mild curiosity, her troubles momentarily forgotten as it slid back into the dark recesses of her mind. Her erect posture seemed to straighten, if possible. Her body was relaxed and did not seek to dominate this stranger. Yet all at once, the Warrior herself seemed insurmountable. It was as if she were the avatar of Nemain transcended upon the earth, the fury of the goddess flickering in the depths of the Raven Dreamer’s heart. The light of her soul lit up her gaze with gentle, silver tendrils, and it was as if the shores of that soul moved the light within her fathomless eyes. In the half light, her white gaze glowed.

That mild curiosity wondered at the male. The two stood watching each other in silence. The young Raven Warrior thought she saw something—a shadow—within the male’s face, but she was unsure. The social inadequacies of the Warrior would never allow her to truly understand another, or so she believed. The one of the tenebrous pelt had decided to pass him by, to allow the stranger his solitude, when the Pied Raven passed overhead. The rough craw shattered the silence with its ominous sound as he landed upon a corner of a skeletal edifice. The Raven’s voice echoed in the silence. It was as if he did not quite belong. Woad banded auds swiveled to catch the dissipating song and the following silence. She breathed in the cool air, listening to the song of the night as the Pied One’s voice fell away; it was as if she could hear and taste something there, as if the colour of the songs revealed much to her. White orbs momentarily turned up to consider her Dream, meeting his one-eyed gaze before returning to the strange one. The Warrior took several steps closer, her movement fluid and ethereal. It were as if she, too, did not quite belong within these lands.

Once more she grew still. The woad upon her sinewy form seemed to glow in the half-light of the moon-lit night. The silence was allowed to ensue for a moment longer. Perhaps the Warrior, a creature of belligerence and action, knew not the words required to be spoken. At length, “Forgive me for intruding,” was sung upon the air in a quiet, Caledonian lilt. Her voice danced upon the air with silver feet before silence was allowed to continue. The woad tipped plume moved behind her like a sinuous snake—a thoughtful movement, perhaps. The tranquility within the woman’s features was unreadable. While not unfriendly, the Woad Warrior gave no thing to her thoughts save for the transient flickering of thoughts within those fathomless orbs. Those thoughts never lingered long enough at the surface to be read by others, and yet that white gaze sought the other, piercing into him as if to find something in particular. She did not know whether he would be lingering in her presence, or whether she would continue into the shadows of the night.

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