01-28-2009, 01:30 AM
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500+
Cwmfen looked peered into those blue orbs as he met her gaze. She found in there a darkness, a tainted soul that seemed to burn everything in touched—a pulsating clump of molten iron wrought of black flame, powerful and yet always hungering. His deeds and his need to obtain his desires seemed a part of an unending thirst, satiated only by the completion of the deed—only to lead him to search again, to sate the unending starvation. He was like Tantalus, doomed for all eternity to never sate that desire. And she saw all these things, but she did not shrink away. There was no doubt in her mind of the danger that he presented, and she did not doubt that he would take from her what he wished. And still, she did not retreat, but peered deeper still into that darkness, herself desiring something she could not have.
Sighing, she averted her gaze and at last she allowed herself to answer. "I apologize because I know that in this age, what I have done—what we have done—is inexcusable. The consequences of our actions are not our own—they belong to others too." To Firefly, and thus to Dahlia. The female recognized the conflict that could arise from such things. She had recognized them the night she had given herself to him, and yet, she had allowed herself such a thing. And while it was for the ancient rites of passage, she doubted that anyone else would see it that way. Yes, she saw these things, and yet, even within her voice, she lacked the inflexion that would allow herself to be ‘redeemed’ in such societies.
The War between Inferni and Dahlia de Mai. She had joined the pack just as the War was ending, but she had heard some of what had happened, and had picked up the rest along the way. From what she had gathered, the chocolate Lilium had committed a great crime—the great crime perhaps. And yet, she did not see him as a monster. Perhaps she was a fool for not recognizing him as such. Perhaps she would pay for it later. The woad warrior did not believe that he saw something in her, something that intrigued him beyond what was ordinary. She did not doubt that she had been nothing more than another female upon which he had exercised his will, a female that had given herself to him even knowing of his mateship. The only difference between the others and herself was that she resided in the same pack, and thus she presented something of more consequence than the others, though she did not know what that consequence was. She asked nothing of him and expected nothing, for she never expected anything of her desires.
The white eyes returned as she spoke in response. "I have heard of what you did then, and I have heard of what you do now. Perhaps I am the fool to say, but even so, I cannot see you as the monster. Your actions are unrefined, but you are not dead yet." If there was anything that the female held in high regard, it was precision. Precision in anything at all, but especially in action, in the physical sense. Did he not have this if he were not yet dead? Or perhaps he was merely lucky. But a light smile came to her lips. "And yet what I think—does it matter? I am but one wolf, and I am of little significance. I believe in a different order of things—a simpler order of things. Survival may be at its core, however primeval it may be. If you are still alive, is that not admirable? I am not a human, and I have little to ask. I am a wolf, and I live now."
500+
Cwmfen looked peered into those blue orbs as he met her gaze. She found in there a darkness, a tainted soul that seemed to burn everything in touched—a pulsating clump of molten iron wrought of black flame, powerful and yet always hungering. His deeds and his need to obtain his desires seemed a part of an unending thirst, satiated only by the completion of the deed—only to lead him to search again, to sate the unending starvation. He was like Tantalus, doomed for all eternity to never sate that desire. And she saw all these things, but she did not shrink away. There was no doubt in her mind of the danger that he presented, and she did not doubt that he would take from her what he wished. And still, she did not retreat, but peered deeper still into that darkness, herself desiring something she could not have.
Sighing, she averted her gaze and at last she allowed herself to answer. "I apologize because I know that in this age, what I have done—what we have done—is inexcusable. The consequences of our actions are not our own—they belong to others too." To Firefly, and thus to Dahlia. The female recognized the conflict that could arise from such things. She had recognized them the night she had given herself to him, and yet, she had allowed herself such a thing. And while it was for the ancient rites of passage, she doubted that anyone else would see it that way. Yes, she saw these things, and yet, even within her voice, she lacked the inflexion that would allow herself to be ‘redeemed’ in such societies.
The War between Inferni and Dahlia de Mai. She had joined the pack just as the War was ending, but she had heard some of what had happened, and had picked up the rest along the way. From what she had gathered, the chocolate Lilium had committed a great crime—the great crime perhaps. And yet, she did not see him as a monster. Perhaps she was a fool for not recognizing him as such. Perhaps she would pay for it later. The woad warrior did not believe that he saw something in her, something that intrigued him beyond what was ordinary. She did not doubt that she had been nothing more than another female upon which he had exercised his will, a female that had given herself to him even knowing of his mateship. The only difference between the others and herself was that she resided in the same pack, and thus she presented something of more consequence than the others, though she did not know what that consequence was. She asked nothing of him and expected nothing, for she never expected anything of her desires.
The white eyes returned as she spoke in response. "I have heard of what you did then, and I have heard of what you do now. Perhaps I am the fool to say, but even so, I cannot see you as the monster. Your actions are unrefined, but you are not dead yet." If there was anything that the female held in high regard, it was precision. Precision in anything at all, but especially in action, in the physical sense. Did he not have this if he were not yet dead? Or perhaps he was merely lucky. But a light smile came to her lips. "And yet what I think—does it matter? I am but one wolf, and I am of little significance. I believe in a different order of things—a simpler order of things. Survival may be at its core, however primeval it may be. If you are still alive, is that not admirable? I am not a human, and I have little to ask. I am a wolf, and I live now."