06-17-2009, 03:12 PM
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500+
Slowly, silently, the woman woke from that deep, empty sleep. Her breathing shifted slightly as she breathed deeply, more easily. For a long moment, the woman was still, her eyes still closed as she listened to the silence of the room. She did not know for how long she had been asleep, but she felt the difference in the temperature of the air, and, although her eyes were shut, she could feel the difference in the light. Cwmfen was still, her heart beating more easily. Once more her mind reminisced upon the events of the prior day that had begun with the battling of Brennt and ended in the black arms of Corvus. Thinking more clearly now, the woman knew the severity of her wounds and of the blood loss. She knew the foolishness of her actions, the certain doom that should have resulted from her choice.... She breathed in deeply, the man’s scent strong in his abode. The song of the world sang tentatively to her, but she closed her ears to it.
Slowly, silently, the woman’s eyes opened, unburdened by the weariness of before. Although she was still weak and still weary, the warrior felt more alive. Before, Death had enveloped her in its cold cloak, dying slowly, ravaged mercilessly; she had felt her body dying, but it was her soul that had cried out most strongly. But now Death had released her, chased away by Onus who had come for her. Onus. Slowly she turned her head to where he had been before sleep had pulled her under, the stitching and the wound upon her neck tight and painful as she moved. The white eyes found him there, smelling of the air outside and of smoke, although she did not know what that meant. He was sleeping there, leaning against the bed. For a long moment, the woman simply watched him, the soft lighting of the overcast day playing across his still features. Love, like a soft, golden light, touched her soul tentatively.
Slowly she willed her hand to move, and it responded this time with surprising ease although her hand felt heavy. The warrior reached out for him, her hand lingering in the air where her fingertips alone could feel the warmth of his form. With effort, the woman held her hand there, as if afraid to disturb him. While her face was calm, there was a sadness in her eyes, a quiet and yet deep emotion that transcended the sadness of most creatures. The source of this emotion was not singular but many, and it tugged from the bottom of her soul. Where, in another time, she could have simply been content with the solitude that felt heavy in her heart, she made the effort to breach the insignificant distance between them. Her hand brushed against his face, falling softly along his neck and resting gently upon his shoulder, unable to hold herself up. She could feel the freshly made wounds along his shoulder that remained unwrapped, and she tried to move her hand away, afraid suddenly that she would make it worse.
500+
Slowly, silently, the woman woke from that deep, empty sleep. Her breathing shifted slightly as she breathed deeply, more easily. For a long moment, the woman was still, her eyes still closed as she listened to the silence of the room. She did not know for how long she had been asleep, but she felt the difference in the temperature of the air, and, although her eyes were shut, she could feel the difference in the light. Cwmfen was still, her heart beating more easily. Once more her mind reminisced upon the events of the prior day that had begun with the battling of Brennt and ended in the black arms of Corvus. Thinking more clearly now, the woman knew the severity of her wounds and of the blood loss. She knew the foolishness of her actions, the certain doom that should have resulted from her choice.... She breathed in deeply, the man’s scent strong in his abode. The song of the world sang tentatively to her, but she closed her ears to it.
Slowly, silently, the woman’s eyes opened, unburdened by the weariness of before. Although she was still weak and still weary, the warrior felt more alive. Before, Death had enveloped her in its cold cloak, dying slowly, ravaged mercilessly; she had felt her body dying, but it was her soul that had cried out most strongly. But now Death had released her, chased away by Onus who had come for her. Onus. Slowly she turned her head to where he had been before sleep had pulled her under, the stitching and the wound upon her neck tight and painful as she moved. The white eyes found him there, smelling of the air outside and of smoke, although she did not know what that meant. He was sleeping there, leaning against the bed. For a long moment, the woman simply watched him, the soft lighting of the overcast day playing across his still features. Love, like a soft, golden light, touched her soul tentatively.
Slowly she willed her hand to move, and it responded this time with surprising ease although her hand felt heavy. The warrior reached out for him, her hand lingering in the air where her fingertips alone could feel the warmth of his form. With effort, the woman held her hand there, as if afraid to disturb him. While her face was calm, there was a sadness in her eyes, a quiet and yet deep emotion that transcended the sadness of most creatures. The source of this emotion was not singular but many, and it tugged from the bottom of her soul. Where, in another time, she could have simply been content with the solitude that felt heavy in her heart, she made the effort to breach the insignificant distance between them. Her hand brushed against his face, falling softly along his neck and resting gently upon his shoulder, unable to hold herself up. She could feel the freshly made wounds along his shoulder that remained unwrapped, and she tried to move her hand away, afraid suddenly that she would make it worse.