05-31-2009, 11:13 PM
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Present time is fine with me, ^=^ That way she can return home and see what Corvus did, OoO
700+
She had not seen Onus since that day he had strode out of her packlands. The woman had not scented him. She had not heard anything from him. But that was not unusual. It had been understood that the two lovers would see each other only when time allowed, when the requirements of their responsibilities did not conflict. And yet, the woad warrior had felt his absence in a different manner. The manner in which he had left still rose clearly in her mind—her sword, that frown. Early that day the woman had risen, taking her sword with her. But she had not practiced with the packlands as she was accustom to doing. Instead, she had moved without, practicing the silent traveling of warriors as she held that sword in the half-light, listening to its hummed song. Her mind wandered over that day—perhaps that physical display had been misplaced. The silence of Haku was not as disturbing to the woman as the departure of the coyote, and she worked through that memory now through the practice with her blade. Badb did not protest, placidly carving the air to the wielder’s will.
Where she had carefully avoided approaching the city, she now found herself within its perimeters. Her movements paused as her gaze lifted, considering the skeletal edifices that rose in silence before her. The blade’s point was lowered as she watched the sunlight play against those unnatural shells that stood sentinel. Then, without a sound, the woman passed into their midst without a challenge. Cwmfen did not know where she was going, but she followed the road, listening to the whisper of the trees that now grew amidst the concrete. Her white gaze fell to watch the path ahead of her. There was a tree there before her. It was not a remarkable tree—it was indiscernible from the others. But she approached it, placing her hand upon the trunk as her eyes went from the limbs above to the path behind it. Then she knelt, and taking the blade she plunged it into the earth that was lain bare by the roots, pushing it down as near to the hilt as she could get it—a cleansing ritual. With quiet gratitude to the tree, the woman rose and stepped toward the path behind it. And the wind brought a familiar scent.
Onus.
The woman paused once more as if hesitating. Her ears lifted as if listening to some distant sound, and, as if compelled, the woman walked slowly. The scent trail was still fresh and she was almost intimidated by it. Nonetheless, the woman could not ignore the ‘coincidence’ of happening upon him. And so, compelled, the woman continued. The trail took her to a strange building that somehow differed from the rest. For a moment, she struggled with how to get in, then with the stairs for the unfamiliarity of this world. The black fae wondered what this was—there were many doors, so many that it might have been the manifestation of some strange Dream. But then the path turned from the stairs, and she found one open door among several—the scent led her there. His scent was strong here, marking the place, filling the air. She hesitated once more upon the threshold before she walked in, her fluid steps silent. Those white eyes scanned the room. She started, one of the very rare occasions upon which such a thing happened. He was upon the bed, turned away from her, and it was his presence within the room that caused such a reaction, perhaps even a sound—a caught breath, a sudden movement upon the floor. It was as if she had not expected to find him. The warrior wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what to say. The warrior wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what to do. She felt that she could not call him or approach him, as if she had revoked that right.
Finally, she took several steps forward until she had approached the bed’s edge. She was tentative, her gaze gentle and shy as she watched him in the silence. Her heart fluttered within her. With the proximity, she could sense that he was troubled, brooding. Her eyes passed over the wound upon his shoulder, growling terribly at her. Her hand reached out as if to touch it, but she pulled back, uncertain once more. And yet, she still could not call her voice as she stood there simply watching.
Present time is fine with me, ^=^ That way she can return home and see what Corvus did, OoO
700+
She had not seen Onus since that day he had strode out of her packlands. The woman had not scented him. She had not heard anything from him. But that was not unusual. It had been understood that the two lovers would see each other only when time allowed, when the requirements of their responsibilities did not conflict. And yet, the woad warrior had felt his absence in a different manner. The manner in which he had left still rose clearly in her mind—her sword, that frown. Early that day the woman had risen, taking her sword with her. But she had not practiced with the packlands as she was accustom to doing. Instead, she had moved without, practicing the silent traveling of warriors as she held that sword in the half-light, listening to its hummed song. Her mind wandered over that day—perhaps that physical display had been misplaced. The silence of Haku was not as disturbing to the woman as the departure of the coyote, and she worked through that memory now through the practice with her blade. Badb did not protest, placidly carving the air to the wielder’s will.
Where she had carefully avoided approaching the city, she now found herself within its perimeters. Her movements paused as her gaze lifted, considering the skeletal edifices that rose in silence before her. The blade’s point was lowered as she watched the sunlight play against those unnatural shells that stood sentinel. Then, without a sound, the woman passed into their midst without a challenge. Cwmfen did not know where she was going, but she followed the road, listening to the whisper of the trees that now grew amidst the concrete. Her white gaze fell to watch the path ahead of her. There was a tree there before her. It was not a remarkable tree—it was indiscernible from the others. But she approached it, placing her hand upon the trunk as her eyes went from the limbs above to the path behind it. Then she knelt, and taking the blade she plunged it into the earth that was lain bare by the roots, pushing it down as near to the hilt as she could get it—a cleansing ritual. With quiet gratitude to the tree, the woman rose and stepped toward the path behind it. And the wind brought a familiar scent.
Onus.
The woman paused once more as if hesitating. Her ears lifted as if listening to some distant sound, and, as if compelled, the woman walked slowly. The scent trail was still fresh and she was almost intimidated by it. Nonetheless, the woman could not ignore the ‘coincidence’ of happening upon him. And so, compelled, the woman continued. The trail took her to a strange building that somehow differed from the rest. For a moment, she struggled with how to get in, then with the stairs for the unfamiliarity of this world. The black fae wondered what this was—there were many doors, so many that it might have been the manifestation of some strange Dream. But then the path turned from the stairs, and she found one open door among several—the scent led her there. His scent was strong here, marking the place, filling the air. She hesitated once more upon the threshold before she walked in, her fluid steps silent. Those white eyes scanned the room. She started, one of the very rare occasions upon which such a thing happened. He was upon the bed, turned away from her, and it was his presence within the room that caused such a reaction, perhaps even a sound—a caught breath, a sudden movement upon the floor. It was as if she had not expected to find him. The warrior wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what to say. The warrior wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what to do. She felt that she could not call him or approach him, as if she had revoked that right.
Finally, she took several steps forward until she had approached the bed’s edge. She was tentative, her gaze gentle and shy as she watched him in the silence. Her heart fluttered within her. With the proximity, she could sense that he was troubled, brooding. Her eyes passed over the wound upon his shoulder, growling terribly at her. Her hand reached out as if to touch it, but she pulled back, uncertain once more. And yet, she still could not call her voice as she stood there simply watching.