ooc:
If anything could be said at all about the progression of time, it was that within it uncertainty was boundless and the unexpected right behind it. The past days had given her the time to reflect on how narrow her thoughts had been of late, to believe that nothing more than stagnation and bitterness would bud from her relationship with Jaden (if any soul would be generous to dub their interactions thusly). It was at last revealed that this was not the case, but her worries were far from relieved.
What was on her mind now was her standing with her dearest friend, her Nomad brother with whom she had spent most of her life before leaving the collective. Hardly was there hide or hair of him, even in the dens he walked in and out of sight as a ghost burdened by his own thoughts. And she knew him well enough to believe there was little part of him that would seek her out as Jaden had to mend their damaged relationship and carry on. To expect something of the like would be no different than anticipating the mountains to move, bringing the same disappointment when they remained immobile despite all the well wishing for even an inch.
If she wished to see him, she would have seek him out unlike how they used to be as pups. Hardly a day went by when he was not at her den, poking his nose in with philosophical knowledge to fill her ears, always going in one then out the other. And then she would grow bored and force him to place, turning a lesson into a scrap and a lecture into a day of rolling in the snow. A part of her missed how it was then... perhaps the part that still desired to be pursued, even if it was for conversation. Even if just to see his face. But had she found him, what would she say? Apologize for placing her anger on him? It was not a Shepard's role to apologize for their actions, no explanation was needed to the flock that followed their lead. But as his friend that want was there, to admit her wrong and find that comfortable place with him again. But would it be to appease his ego so that she would find favor with him again, or were her intentions more innocent then her receptive thoughts? It was difficult to say but one way or the other, she missed him as friend, as pack brother, as an interest to breed, it mattered little. What mattered was the emotion she held onto, the one that convinced her to leave the den and search.
Emerging from the dens she witnessed the fall of the day as the last rebellious arms of light tried in vain to catch the sky. The velvet shrouds overlayed the land and as she took to the mountain, the whole of night had fallen with but a few early stars and the glowing face of the moon acting as her shining light in the darkness. And then a glowing red-orange hue cut through the encompassing black acting as a generous beacon and symbol of life. A life she sought that kept himself hidden from what, she did not know. But like a moth attracted to the glowing embers she walked toward it with soundless steps. Were it not for an unfavorable wind she perhaps could have snuck up on him as she had often done when they were pups. A little ambush in the hopes of rekindling a familiar flame but far ruined was that chance leaving her the only option to approach him directly.
Like him she was situated in her towering form adorned with nothing but her golden fur and the feathers of both the vulture and owls decorated throughout her lengthy mane. From a single braid running down her front she freed a long feather of the vulture's wing and twirled it between her fingers as she walked around the small fire to his side. Her clouded eyes passive glanced over the flickering flames and lingered instead on the engravings in the ground. Her brows peaked with recognition and tail began to sway excitedly. She knew this game. The one with all the interesting pieces and rules for their movements. But she would not indulge in that nostalgic game. That was not the reason for why she had sought him out. She forced down her excitement then and came to his side, carefully drawing herself down beside him. Still she twirled the feather better the tips of her digits then reached out with her available hand to gentle take a few strands of his dark mane. "...I have found the vulture to be a ruthless and cunning companion..." she uttered softly and began winding the loose strand around the stem of the feather. "But even with his unique and often disturbing behavior... I have grown to like him."
When fixed, she let the feather and strand fall over his shoulder then comfortably let her cheek rest against the fire lit grey.
.ooctable, .oocinfo {
background-image:none;
padding:10px;
line-height:12px;
margin:5px auto; width:85%;
background-color:#938d93;
border:1px solid #2d242d;
font-size:10px;
color:#2d242d;
border-radius:2px;
border-style: dashed;
-moz-border-radius:2px;
-webkit-border-radius:2px; }
.oocinfo {
font-size:10px;
width:250px;
margin:5px; }
</style>