05-31-2009, 01:40 AM
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Poor Onus, OnO
500+
The sword hummed quietly in her hand, that song of war faltering as that brief moment passed. The white eyes watched the place where she knew those black eyes lay, wishing that she could know what occurred there. But she knew that even if those eyes had been lain bare, she would have seen nothing while in the presence of the Lilium. And perhaps she did not deserve to see what moved behind that mask. The woad warrior’s eyes saw that imperceptible change upon the coyote’s maw, and the beating of her heart wavered, recoiling from herself. Yet, despite that her gaze did not falter, did not waver, and held him there with the same intensity of the point of the sword. Mucro, her mind thought suddenly—or perhaps the sword did. Sword tip. The woman knew, from that seemingly irrelevant gesture, that she had pierced him. Yet still she did not waver, unable to turn back now and able only to be that still, silent warrior of Dahlia.
Onus moved suddenly, but she did not flinch or respond in any other way. And his touch was surprisingly gentle. Where the woman would have felt no conflict of duty, this coyote brought such conflict upon her with that single, merciful touch. She allowed him to push her hand away, taking a step back as he released her and walked away. Haku said something, calling after the masked man, but she heard only the sounds and not the words. The white orbs followed him in silence, her blade lowered now and humming quietly, undisturbed now by the distance that continued to draw between them. And then he was gone from her sight. The woman turned away, returning the sword at its place by the Spear. The ferocity of her gaze was relinquished, placed alongside the sword she had deposited. There was a quiet emptiness within her, and yet it did not break through the tranquility of her soul. While her soul sang a disheartened song, that tranquility was not diminished, leaving the woman to contemplate her actions. Perhaps there were times, she decided, when words spoke more clearly than action.
Cwmfen returned to stand before the chocolate male, returning to the seat she had only moments before taken. The words of the wolf caught up with her, ringing in her ears more clearly in this silence than it had been in the moment of their speaking. Briefly, the woman wondered at that comment, but she was silent as her white gaze, holding no hint of the conflict, and perhaps even pain, that riddled her mind, lifted to search those blue eyes. "I hope that this will be enough," the soft melody rang. "I hope that in the future, my loyalty will not be questioned or doubted." And her gaze sought the blueness, seeking something, a silent question within them. Once he had seen her differently, and now.... it was as if he did not look at all. Once he had called her his friend, but she no longer felt such an acute relationship. Indeed, she felt that she could trust him and he could trust her, but it was somehow.... Different.
Poor Onus, OnO
500+
The sword hummed quietly in her hand, that song of war faltering as that brief moment passed. The white eyes watched the place where she knew those black eyes lay, wishing that she could know what occurred there. But she knew that even if those eyes had been lain bare, she would have seen nothing while in the presence of the Lilium. And perhaps she did not deserve to see what moved behind that mask. The woad warrior’s eyes saw that imperceptible change upon the coyote’s maw, and the beating of her heart wavered, recoiling from herself. Yet, despite that her gaze did not falter, did not waver, and held him there with the same intensity of the point of the sword. Mucro, her mind thought suddenly—or perhaps the sword did. Sword tip. The woman knew, from that seemingly irrelevant gesture, that she had pierced him. Yet still she did not waver, unable to turn back now and able only to be that still, silent warrior of Dahlia.
Onus moved suddenly, but she did not flinch or respond in any other way. And his touch was surprisingly gentle. Where the woman would have felt no conflict of duty, this coyote brought such conflict upon her with that single, merciful touch. She allowed him to push her hand away, taking a step back as he released her and walked away. Haku said something, calling after the masked man, but she heard only the sounds and not the words. The white orbs followed him in silence, her blade lowered now and humming quietly, undisturbed now by the distance that continued to draw between them. And then he was gone from her sight. The woman turned away, returning the sword at its place by the Spear. The ferocity of her gaze was relinquished, placed alongside the sword she had deposited. There was a quiet emptiness within her, and yet it did not break through the tranquility of her soul. While her soul sang a disheartened song, that tranquility was not diminished, leaving the woman to contemplate her actions. Perhaps there were times, she decided, when words spoke more clearly than action.
Cwmfen returned to stand before the chocolate male, returning to the seat she had only moments before taken. The words of the wolf caught up with her, ringing in her ears more clearly in this silence than it had been in the moment of their speaking. Briefly, the woman wondered at that comment, but she was silent as her white gaze, holding no hint of the conflict, and perhaps even pain, that riddled her mind, lifted to search those blue eyes. "I hope that this will be enough," the soft melody rang. "I hope that in the future, my loyalty will not be questioned or doubted." And her gaze sought the blueness, seeking something, a silent question within them. Once he had seen her differently, and now.... it was as if he did not look at all. Once he had called her his friend, but she no longer felt such an acute relationship. Indeed, she felt that she could trust him and he could trust her, but it was somehow.... Different.