06-18-2009, 11:31 AM
[html]
http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... rncopy.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
D: She will be his cup.
500+
No, she willed herself to whisper, but there was only silence. She did not want him to cover those eyes that she could drown in like the soft velvet of the night, those eyes that looked upon her as no other eyes did with a love she had only just been able to understand. She did not want those eyes to be hidden from her, and yet, for the hurt she knew she had caused him, she could not even look upon them. "No." It came upon an exhaled breath, that word so quiet that, even to the female, it was hardly audible in the silence.
The words he spoke—she knew what he must have felt. She knew what he must have believed she felt. His search, his efforts, had not saved her from the stealing, the rape, of her body. The crow wolf had marked her soul, that darkness like tar sticking to her self. And the physical mark had been burned into her skin. The bruises and the bleeding would fade and stop, but the burn would remain. Filthy, violated, and tainted, and yet he had still taken her from that threatening darkness. She did not blame him for what had happened. She had known what would happen if she had failed, and failure had come easily for her bloodied form.
Her hand felt a small wetness like the first drop of a coming rain, soft and scarcely discernable and yet so profound. Despite the discomfort, her muzzle turned slowly from the ceiling so that her eyes could look upon him. A great, anguished sorrow spread within her chest like water that had breeched the damn, and she took a slow, deep breath to contain it. Her hand turned slowly in his grip, her palm brushing against his brow. Her fingers moved softly and gently down his temple and to his cheek as she wiped away that tear. Her palm cradled his jaw, that gentle grip trembling with the control and exertion required to endure it. Why was he so far? "You have not failed me." The soft susurrus was breathed from her body. Her white orbs sought those black eyes, wanting him to look at her. Her eyes shone with moisture, but the tears were held back by that deep breath, still unable to fall as the rain fell.
There was a long silence, as if she gathered her thoughts. Or perhaps she gathered the physical strength required to speak. The shallow breathing rose and fell in her chest, a soft sound that disturbed the silence. "You freed me from that," she whispered, her words ending almost unnaturally as if her breath had been inadequate. I still live, she thought in the silence. Can that not be enough? She breathed deeply, blinking once to ward off that weakness. It has to be enough. It has to be, because that’s all I have. Her hand slipped from his face, her wrist resting upon the bed as her fingers lingered upon his neck. Finally, her eyes closed, closing tightly as she swallowed away the anguish of her soul.
D: She will be his cup.
500+
No, she willed herself to whisper, but there was only silence. She did not want him to cover those eyes that she could drown in like the soft velvet of the night, those eyes that looked upon her as no other eyes did with a love she had only just been able to understand. She did not want those eyes to be hidden from her, and yet, for the hurt she knew she had caused him, she could not even look upon them. "No." It came upon an exhaled breath, that word so quiet that, even to the female, it was hardly audible in the silence.
The words he spoke—she knew what he must have felt. She knew what he must have believed she felt. His search, his efforts, had not saved her from the stealing, the rape, of her body. The crow wolf had marked her soul, that darkness like tar sticking to her self. And the physical mark had been burned into her skin. The bruises and the bleeding would fade and stop, but the burn would remain. Filthy, violated, and tainted, and yet he had still taken her from that threatening darkness. She did not blame him for what had happened. She had known what would happen if she had failed, and failure had come easily for her bloodied form.
Her hand felt a small wetness like the first drop of a coming rain, soft and scarcely discernable and yet so profound. Despite the discomfort, her muzzle turned slowly from the ceiling so that her eyes could look upon him. A great, anguished sorrow spread within her chest like water that had breeched the damn, and she took a slow, deep breath to contain it. Her hand turned slowly in his grip, her palm brushing against his brow. Her fingers moved softly and gently down his temple and to his cheek as she wiped away that tear. Her palm cradled his jaw, that gentle grip trembling with the control and exertion required to endure it. Why was he so far? "You have not failed me." The soft susurrus was breathed from her body. Her white orbs sought those black eyes, wanting him to look at her. Her eyes shone with moisture, but the tears were held back by that deep breath, still unable to fall as the rain fell.
There was a long silence, as if she gathered her thoughts. Or perhaps she gathered the physical strength required to speak. The shallow breathing rose and fell in her chest, a soft sound that disturbed the silence. "You freed me from that," she whispered, her words ending almost unnaturally as if her breath had been inadequate. I still live, she thought in the silence. Can that not be enough? She breathed deeply, blinking once to ward off that weakness. It has to be enough. It has to be, because that’s all I have. Her hand slipped from his face, her wrist resting upon the bed as her fingers lingered upon his neck. Finally, her eyes closed, closing tightly as she swallowed away the anguish of her soul.