03-26-2009, 06:12 PM
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I’ll play~
500+
Cwmfen walked easily. The wounds upon her body were fading, healing, and they no longer tugged with every move. Yet, the warrior did not push this progress, and she did not shift down into lupus form. It was not time yet—she recognized this. And while the warrior was patient, able to endure without complaint, she was slowly becoming restless. Her optime form had its uses, but with the wounds, she had been able to do very little. Moreover, she liked her lupus form, loved it more than any other. She loved the natural way her body moved, her mind moved, when she saw the world, experienced the world. But being in her optime form had shown her a new way to look at the world. It was not particularly one she enjoyed, however, for she felt very human and exposed at times. But she saw the beauty of the bipedal shape of her body and the way it could move through martial rhythms. And now she traveled through Dahlia, testing the limits of her own healing body as well as the range of movements permitted by the form.
Within the packlands, she felt no need to carry her spear. Above, the pied Raven shadowed her every path, crawing occasionally in the slowly warming world. At times, his calls echoed deep within her soul, as if speaking, calling, to her Dreams. But other times, as it was now, the call was dull and ordinary, almost peculiarly so. And the Warrior and Raven Dreamer tried not to bother herself often about such trifles. At least she would still Dream in the nighttime hours when she floated in the limbo of wakefulness and sleep. But now, the female trotted, her movements silent and fluid. Her speed was not great, but it was faster than she had been able to push herself in a long while. And her soul was content as the white orbs gazed about her, drinking in the beauty of the natural world that she loved so dearly. And yet not so dearly as war.
Suddenly, the female caught a familiar scent. Slay. She had not seen him in a very long time, not even after she had heard of his mateship with the Rosea, Cercelee. The woad warrior pulled up short, her head held high as her ears swiveled about, searching for the sound of her packmate. She head a sound in the silence of the distance, and, though she wasn’t certain, the female started up once more. And it was not long before her meticulous observations were rewarded by the vision of the diamond marked male ahead. With a light smile, the female approached him, coming in from his side. Her looked a bit muddy, but he held a rabbit in his jaws and so she assumed that his state was due to his Hunting duties. She thought she heard something about spring as she pulled up alongside him. “Hello, Slay,” the alto melody greeted, and she dipped her maw in greeting. The female practically towered over him for their different forms, but she could not help it now. Perhaps, if they paused to converse, she would be able to sit at his side, but for now, she would walk alongside him. “I have not seen you in a long while....” and her voice was apologetic. “How have you been?”
500+
Cwmfen walked easily. The wounds upon her body were fading, healing, and they no longer tugged with every move. Yet, the warrior did not push this progress, and she did not shift down into lupus form. It was not time yet—she recognized this. And while the warrior was patient, able to endure without complaint, she was slowly becoming restless. Her optime form had its uses, but with the wounds, she had been able to do very little. Moreover, she liked her lupus form, loved it more than any other. She loved the natural way her body moved, her mind moved, when she saw the world, experienced the world. But being in her optime form had shown her a new way to look at the world. It was not particularly one she enjoyed, however, for she felt very human and exposed at times. But she saw the beauty of the bipedal shape of her body and the way it could move through martial rhythms. And now she traveled through Dahlia, testing the limits of her own healing body as well as the range of movements permitted by the form.
Within the packlands, she felt no need to carry her spear. Above, the pied Raven shadowed her every path, crawing occasionally in the slowly warming world. At times, his calls echoed deep within her soul, as if speaking, calling, to her Dreams. But other times, as it was now, the call was dull and ordinary, almost peculiarly so. And the Warrior and Raven Dreamer tried not to bother herself often about such trifles. At least she would still Dream in the nighttime hours when she floated in the limbo of wakefulness and sleep. But now, the female trotted, her movements silent and fluid. Her speed was not great, but it was faster than she had been able to push herself in a long while. And her soul was content as the white orbs gazed about her, drinking in the beauty of the natural world that she loved so dearly. And yet not so dearly as war.
Suddenly, the female caught a familiar scent. Slay. She had not seen him in a very long time, not even after she had heard of his mateship with the Rosea, Cercelee. The woad warrior pulled up short, her head held high as her ears swiveled about, searching for the sound of her packmate. She head a sound in the silence of the distance, and, though she wasn’t certain, the female started up once more. And it was not long before her meticulous observations were rewarded by the vision of the diamond marked male ahead. With a light smile, the female approached him, coming in from his side. Her looked a bit muddy, but he held a rabbit in his jaws and so she assumed that his state was due to his Hunting duties. She thought she heard something about spring as she pulled up alongside him. “Hello, Slay,” the alto melody greeted, and she dipped her maw in greeting. The female practically towered over him for their different forms, but she could not help it now. Perhaps, if they paused to converse, she would be able to sit at his side, but for now, she would walk alongside him. “I have not seen you in a long while....” and her voice was apologetic. “How have you been?”