01-14-2009, 12:02 AM
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700+
Cwmfen trotted silently in the lands outside of Dahlia de Mai. She was deep in thought, considering what had occurred the night before. Pausing in the brush, the black female shifted, taking on the luperci form. She lay there alone as she had spent every night. And yet, ever since the Long Nights, that solitude that she so required held a different quality.... Her mind turned the happenings of the prior night over, trying to reason through the events, attempting to uncover something she might have missed. Why had he been there? Unexpectedly, Haku had appeared at her den, seeking friendship. The warrior sighed, trying to push the thoughts away. She wanted to believe that there had been something more, but how could she demand that of him—or anyone? While the woad marked fae knew that the Lilium had a mate, there was still that primal instinct that called for challenge; while her belligerent ways may have functioned thusly, the world no longer accepted such archaic views, it seemed. Perhaps to follow it would have asked too much.
The female considered her own confusion. Social confrontations of any nature were never really her strength. War. That was what she knew. She knew how to fight, and she was good at it. It was easy for her to decide who would die, or who would live. There was no complexity for her in such basic, aggressive instincts. But she had, and possibly could, never adapt fully to the social life. In the culture from which she originated, the wolves never took mates. They only took lovers; while usually the nature of these relationships was usually very similar to mateships in the respect that only one lover was taken, the relationship was not binding. Indeed there was love, but there was nothing restraining both parties from the freedoms of life. Lovers shared warmth in the cold nights. They made love in their dens. And (perhaps most importantly to this particular female) they were comrades in battle relying upon one another, protecting one another. Why could not the relationships here be of that nature. She found often—especially after the rites of womanhood—that she desired companionship. But she did not want the ties that would prevent her from being the wild and free warrior creature that she was.
Suddenly, the woad-marked female found herself wandering in strange lands. She had never really explored these particular lands, but from what she could tell from the strange, exotic city that surrounded her, she must be in the place named Halifax. The female did not like these constructs of human existence. Of humanity, she found only their ancient weaponry to be fascinating. There was nothing for her in these concrete jungles. Yet, she could not help but feel curious about these graveyards of man. What caught her interest the most was the way in which the earth was re-claiming that which was lost. The white orbs wandered over those seemingly frail vines with tendrils that penetrated and grasped at the sides of these edifices. How curious it was that these thin tendrils were slowly but surely conquering these seemingly eternal constructs. It was evidence only that nothing was eternal.
The road opened up into a courtyard—the way a forest gave way to a meadow. However, the warrior stopped immediately, for she scented upon the cold air the scent of another—a male. The glossy white orbs scanned the surroundings until they observed a form sitting upon a bench. The male was black and he was alone. His scent, as she sniffed the air again, held no trace of any pack. A lone wolf. Immediately, the woad-marked Vitis grew wary, for her experience with lone wolves had never been good, often ending in the death of the other. Suddenly, Cwmfen realized that she had left her spear within the shelter of her den (where too her pied Raven awaited her return). With a feral ferocity flickering faintly within her eyes, she discarded such thoughts, for she was quite adept without the use of weapons. And while the distance between them was great, her posture changed slightly as she observed silently, with a mild fascination, the cranium of a human held in his palms.
700+
Cwmfen trotted silently in the lands outside of Dahlia de Mai. She was deep in thought, considering what had occurred the night before. Pausing in the brush, the black female shifted, taking on the luperci form. She lay there alone as she had spent every night. And yet, ever since the Long Nights, that solitude that she so required held a different quality.... Her mind turned the happenings of the prior night over, trying to reason through the events, attempting to uncover something she might have missed. Why had he been there? Unexpectedly, Haku had appeared at her den, seeking friendship. The warrior sighed, trying to push the thoughts away. She wanted to believe that there had been something more, but how could she demand that of him—or anyone? While the woad marked fae knew that the Lilium had a mate, there was still that primal instinct that called for challenge; while her belligerent ways may have functioned thusly, the world no longer accepted such archaic views, it seemed. Perhaps to follow it would have asked too much.
The female considered her own confusion. Social confrontations of any nature were never really her strength. War. That was what she knew. She knew how to fight, and she was good at it. It was easy for her to decide who would die, or who would live. There was no complexity for her in such basic, aggressive instincts. But she had, and possibly could, never adapt fully to the social life. In the culture from which she originated, the wolves never took mates. They only took lovers; while usually the nature of these relationships was usually very similar to mateships in the respect that only one lover was taken, the relationship was not binding. Indeed there was love, but there was nothing restraining both parties from the freedoms of life. Lovers shared warmth in the cold nights. They made love in their dens. And (perhaps most importantly to this particular female) they were comrades in battle relying upon one another, protecting one another. Why could not the relationships here be of that nature. She found often—especially after the rites of womanhood—that she desired companionship. But she did not want the ties that would prevent her from being the wild and free warrior creature that she was.
Suddenly, the woad-marked female found herself wandering in strange lands. She had never really explored these particular lands, but from what she could tell from the strange, exotic city that surrounded her, she must be in the place named Halifax. The female did not like these constructs of human existence. Of humanity, she found only their ancient weaponry to be fascinating. There was nothing for her in these concrete jungles. Yet, she could not help but feel curious about these graveyards of man. What caught her interest the most was the way in which the earth was re-claiming that which was lost. The white orbs wandered over those seemingly frail vines with tendrils that penetrated and grasped at the sides of these edifices. How curious it was that these thin tendrils were slowly but surely conquering these seemingly eternal constructs. It was evidence only that nothing was eternal.
The road opened up into a courtyard—the way a forest gave way to a meadow. However, the warrior stopped immediately, for she scented upon the cold air the scent of another—a male. The glossy white orbs scanned the surroundings until they observed a form sitting upon a bench. The male was black and he was alone. His scent, as she sniffed the air again, held no trace of any pack. A lone wolf. Immediately, the woad-marked Vitis grew wary, for her experience with lone wolves had never been good, often ending in the death of the other. Suddenly, Cwmfen realized that she had left her spear within the shelter of her den (where too her pied Raven awaited her return). With a feral ferocity flickering faintly within her eyes, she discarded such thoughts, for she was quite adept without the use of weapons. And while the distance between them was great, her posture changed slightly as she observed silently, with a mild fascination, the cranium of a human held in his palms.