06-17-2009, 02:23 AM
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500+
The woman had watched in silence as the male’s frustration became manifest. There was a quiet hurt within her because she felt as if that anger were directed at her. She mind, struggling to form coherent thoughts, wondered if he thought her foolish for going. It all seemed so foolish to her; but she had not actively sought him when she had found him. She had merely been seeking shelter from the rain to keep the water from her wounds and to allow them to rest. The shift that she had made upon the finding of her sword had been a poor choice of action, for it had deepened her wounds and drained her of much of her energy. She had never stood a chance against him. But the confrontation, for her, had been metaphysical. For Onus, who had come and had killed the crow wolf, the confrontation had been physical, and he had succeeded, she felt, in his part. Whether she had failed or not, the woman did not know.
With her eyes closed, she only heard him come near to her, kneeling beside her. His hand rested gently upon her own, and the woad bound hand, which had been clenching the sheets, relaxed as if bidden by his touch. He bid her to sleep, and for a moment, the woman was still, her slightly opened eyes watching the plainness of the sheets. Her slowed mind wondered at those words. She wondered if he meant for her to be still and silent, away from his attention. And so, for a moment, she was still, her eyes holding openly that quiet sadness that could not be held away by the quiet calm that was normally displayed upon her features. The dilute emotions had intensified within the last few hours, running wildly about her mind. She could not control them now, and so she did not waste her energy trying. Suddenly, however, she was tentative, her heart afraid that he would push her away because of the blackness that had touched her soul so intimately.
She could feel the restlessness within him, and the warrior knew that he would leave her side soon. She did not protest, as her mind wandered, unable to retain its focus. She swallowed against her efforts and shut her eyes. But if he moved to rise or leave her side, she would have found the strength to lift her hand long enough to grasp his wrist before her hand would fall away, her woad bound fingers brushing against his as it fell softly to the bed. "Stay with me," the quiet melody whispered, and it was a request, not a plea. There was a brief silence, as if she were afraid that he would not and simply leave her in that solitude that was no longer enough. "Please." Her eyes opened, looking up at him with a tentative gaze, those eyes, normally so clear, glazed over by weariness that her body felt. She knew that she should be sleeping, that she should get rest as he had instructed, but her heart wanted something more, and her body was cold without him beside her.
500+
The woman had watched in silence as the male’s frustration became manifest. There was a quiet hurt within her because she felt as if that anger were directed at her. She mind, struggling to form coherent thoughts, wondered if he thought her foolish for going. It all seemed so foolish to her; but she had not actively sought him when she had found him. She had merely been seeking shelter from the rain to keep the water from her wounds and to allow them to rest. The shift that she had made upon the finding of her sword had been a poor choice of action, for it had deepened her wounds and drained her of much of her energy. She had never stood a chance against him. But the confrontation, for her, had been metaphysical. For Onus, who had come and had killed the crow wolf, the confrontation had been physical, and he had succeeded, she felt, in his part. Whether she had failed or not, the woman did not know.
With her eyes closed, she only heard him come near to her, kneeling beside her. His hand rested gently upon her own, and the woad bound hand, which had been clenching the sheets, relaxed as if bidden by his touch. He bid her to sleep, and for a moment, the woman was still, her slightly opened eyes watching the plainness of the sheets. Her slowed mind wondered at those words. She wondered if he meant for her to be still and silent, away from his attention. And so, for a moment, she was still, her eyes holding openly that quiet sadness that could not be held away by the quiet calm that was normally displayed upon her features. The dilute emotions had intensified within the last few hours, running wildly about her mind. She could not control them now, and so she did not waste her energy trying. Suddenly, however, she was tentative, her heart afraid that he would push her away because of the blackness that had touched her soul so intimately.
She could feel the restlessness within him, and the warrior knew that he would leave her side soon. She did not protest, as her mind wandered, unable to retain its focus. She swallowed against her efforts and shut her eyes. But if he moved to rise or leave her side, she would have found the strength to lift her hand long enough to grasp his wrist before her hand would fall away, her woad bound fingers brushing against his as it fell softly to the bed. "Stay with me," the quiet melody whispered, and it was a request, not a plea. There was a brief silence, as if she were afraid that he would not and simply leave her in that solitude that was no longer enough. "Please." Her eyes opened, looking up at him with a tentative gaze, those eyes, normally so clear, glazed over by weariness that her body felt. She knew that she should be sleeping, that she should get rest as he had instructed, but her heart wanted something more, and her body was cold without him beside her.