09-01-2008, 03:15 AM
[html]
http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj32 ... /nikt1.png); background-repeat: no-repeat;">
She did know what she was doing, and her test had been successful. But perhaps not in the way that she wished it to be. He had not responded how Patriot would have, which meant that, for some reason, he wasn’t Patriot. It was around that time that his voice began to shift, the timbre changing from the steely tones of the werewolf to the far more warm tones that felt painfully familiar to her. “Who’re—” she attempted before placidity continued to encroach upon her. Her right arm lowered to her side slowly before her hand unclenched in a single motion. The knife fell to the mud next to her foot, and she made no move to pick it up. Her body seemed to relax in a single motion as her breath left her as if someone had forced it from her. She wobbled slightly, and then her eyes closed, open, and saw.
“Laurel,” she said, finally, with recognition. Nearly two years of memories came rushing back in the space of a second, nearly knocking her off her feet. She swayed once more, catching herself and trying to focus once more. She immediately realized what had happened. She had been half-dreaming in reality, and she had thought that Laurel was Patriot. The comparison nearly made her want to scream. On the other side of the coin, however, it also made her want to break down. She reached up and pulled the bandanna from her head, turning half-way away from Laurel as she began to tear up, pressing the rain-sodden and worn piece of cloth to her eyes as she began to cry fully. They were bitter, however; full of frustration and sorrow and fear. Fear of what she could have done, or what else could have happened. Fear of how ill she was, or how ill she might continue to be.
She was ashamed as well; she hated to show weakness in any way, and this was pretty much the epitome of it. And yet, even though she would will with every synapse in her brain for her body to stop, she couldn’t. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, actually; all of that emotion had to escape eventually.
She did know what she was doing, and her test had been successful. But perhaps not in the way that she wished it to be. He had not responded how Patriot would have, which meant that, for some reason, he wasn’t Patriot. It was around that time that his voice began to shift, the timbre changing from the steely tones of the werewolf to the far more warm tones that felt painfully familiar to her. “Who’re—” she attempted before placidity continued to encroach upon her. Her right arm lowered to her side slowly before her hand unclenched in a single motion. The knife fell to the mud next to her foot, and she made no move to pick it up. Her body seemed to relax in a single motion as her breath left her as if someone had forced it from her. She wobbled slightly, and then her eyes closed, open, and saw.
“Laurel,” she said, finally, with recognition. Nearly two years of memories came rushing back in the space of a second, nearly knocking her off her feet. She swayed once more, catching herself and trying to focus once more. She immediately realized what had happened. She had been half-dreaming in reality, and she had thought that Laurel was Patriot. The comparison nearly made her want to scream. On the other side of the coin, however, it also made her want to break down. She reached up and pulled the bandanna from her head, turning half-way away from Laurel as she began to tear up, pressing the rain-sodden and worn piece of cloth to her eyes as she began to cry fully. They were bitter, however; full of frustration and sorrow and fear. Fear of what she could have done, or what else could have happened. Fear of how ill she was, or how ill she might continue to be.
She was ashamed as well; she hated to show weakness in any way, and this was pretty much the epitome of it. And yet, even though she would will with every synapse in her brain for her body to stop, she couldn’t. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, actually; all of that emotion had to escape eventually.