05-02-2009, 12:17 AM
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500+
A touch could be just as powerful as a voice, as the silence. But a touch was tangible, immediate, and for some reason the warrior had felt the need to make that contact, to make that connection with the man whom she shared this proximity. Her touch did not seem to invoke a response, but perhaps with this male it was the same as the response she would have received with another. And so she did not withdraw her touch, allowing herself to linger there. In the silence she could feel him watching her, and his gaze held the same quality that it had before. And she liked the silence that allowed her to see him. And yet the silence was not enough—it did not penetrate enough. Once more, as she sought his face, she wondered at what was hidden behind that cloth; she had not removed it along with the rest of his garments, remembering how he had stopped her from seeing when they had first met. But she had no right to ask that of him, to ask him to see. To the woman it was understood that she was to him as a foot soldier to a general: simply another face.
Just rest; she had known the answer to her own question. A light smile flickered across her lips. She was being foolish. She should not have bothered him. But before she could move he told her that she did not have to leave. The smile completed itself, gracing her maw as she offered that gesture in response to his words: Alright, I’ll stay. But that smile disappeared, melting back into the darkness when he spoke again. For a moment, she listed only to the sound of his voice in the silence. And then she heard the words. The black fae did not wish to pry, but she knew that the male would not continue if he did not believe it to be necessary to share this information with her. "It must have been profound to survive the past." It was strange then, for this creature was created by the past; Death was a life-altering experience. And yet her most recent brush with death had not rendered her any different and it worried her. While Onus was created by the past, what he did in the present created the future; although he used violence to serve Justice, it was a better future that he sought to make. If it were horrors he recalled from the past, those horrors had not created a monster.
Once long ago, she too had met Death. But how she had survived she did not know; the past slowly became a jumbled mess of time, but it was not time that mattered and she could remember what was to be learned. "My father brings Death with him," she said suddenly, her voice quiet. It was strange perhaps to refer to the crow wolf as ‘my father’, but the lack of humanity within him did not change the fact that she had been made by the seed of his loins. "He did not know how fragile the body of a whelp can be." Her gaze, which had wandered to the wall before her, retracing the path of her life in that empty space, returned to the coyote. There was silence again before she returned to a previous thought. "I did not wish for him to bring this upon you." The white orbs of the warrior considered the male, a strange curiosity flickering in those frosty orbs. Her hand moved away from him, returning to rest upon her thigh. She wondered then if it were the fear of her father that moved her to such emotions or if it were something else.
500+
A touch could be just as powerful as a voice, as the silence. But a touch was tangible, immediate, and for some reason the warrior had felt the need to make that contact, to make that connection with the man whom she shared this proximity. Her touch did not seem to invoke a response, but perhaps with this male it was the same as the response she would have received with another. And so she did not withdraw her touch, allowing herself to linger there. In the silence she could feel him watching her, and his gaze held the same quality that it had before. And she liked the silence that allowed her to see him. And yet the silence was not enough—it did not penetrate enough. Once more, as she sought his face, she wondered at what was hidden behind that cloth; she had not removed it along with the rest of his garments, remembering how he had stopped her from seeing when they had first met. But she had no right to ask that of him, to ask him to see. To the woman it was understood that she was to him as a foot soldier to a general: simply another face.
Just rest; she had known the answer to her own question. A light smile flickered across her lips. She was being foolish. She should not have bothered him. But before she could move he told her that she did not have to leave. The smile completed itself, gracing her maw as she offered that gesture in response to his words: Alright, I’ll stay. But that smile disappeared, melting back into the darkness when he spoke again. For a moment, she listed only to the sound of his voice in the silence. And then she heard the words. The black fae did not wish to pry, but she knew that the male would not continue if he did not believe it to be necessary to share this information with her. "It must have been profound to survive the past." It was strange then, for this creature was created by the past; Death was a life-altering experience. And yet her most recent brush with death had not rendered her any different and it worried her. While Onus was created by the past, what he did in the present created the future; although he used violence to serve Justice, it was a better future that he sought to make. If it were horrors he recalled from the past, those horrors had not created a monster.
Once long ago, she too had met Death. But how she had survived she did not know; the past slowly became a jumbled mess of time, but it was not time that mattered and she could remember what was to be learned. "My father brings Death with him," she said suddenly, her voice quiet. It was strange perhaps to refer to the crow wolf as ‘my father’, but the lack of humanity within him did not change the fact that she had been made by the seed of his loins. "He did not know how fragile the body of a whelp can be." Her gaze, which had wandered to the wall before her, retracing the path of her life in that empty space, returned to the coyote. There was silence again before she returned to a previous thought. "I did not wish for him to bring this upon you." The white orbs of the warrior considered the male, a strange curiosity flickering in those frosty orbs. Her hand moved away from him, returning to rest upon her thigh. She wondered then if it were the fear of her father that moved her to such emotions or if it were something else.