07-06-2009, 12:54 PM
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700+
The woad marked female was content that her words seemed to assuage Anu. It was not often that such words were accepted in such a way—often, as with Sankor, though she could not understand why—her sincere efforts to socialize in such a way were thwarted. The white orbs strayed to the roots of the elm, the woad bound ears swiveling to hear the voice of the beautiful wolf with whom she shared company. Generosity. The warrior could not understand that such generosity would come in such a way. She believed that generosity would come only when the gods saw it fit to employ such a thing. There had been no generosity for Ril’o, but perhaps he had served his purpose in life. And perhaps she had not yet fulfilled her purpose. Perhaps that was why the generosity of Life had been shared with her once more. It was a more practical view upon the workings of the world, but such stoic practicality often was a requisite for those who followed a martial path.
For a moment the woman was still—Anu must know of their love for each other as well. A soft smile moved across her maw, dancing faintly as if remembering how. She was not accustom to hearing that word, though she had heard it often from her lover’s lips. Of all the emotions, it was love, not anger or hate, that moved her. For that, the black warrior was able to believe that she could resist the blackness of the crow wolf that had been brushed against her soul. "The only regret that I would have had would have been to leave him behind." She knew the intensity of his love, had felt it like a hot fire within her. But did he know the intensity of her own? It made her resist Death where once Death was a familiar, almost welcoming presence, for the only death of a warrior was upon a battlefield. He made her greedy for him, and having never felt greed she felt her greed for him move through her with an uncontainable torrent. With him she could show weakness that could not be shown even with herself. Where once she had been content with her solitude, she could be content now only while at his side. And yet, for these inexplicable things, she felt as if she had not allowed him to know.
The white orbs sought those aquatic eyes. "A warrior is not meant to bear life," the soft voice said suddenly. A warrior could protect life. A warrior could accompany death. But to bear life? A warrior was rendered useless, and she felt at a loss. Perhaps if her Dreams were not so chaotic, she would be able to understand. "This litter may have been created of Darkness, but it is life nonetheless...." Was she not required to protect this life as well? But the warrior considered the little that was growing within her, her hands cradling her large abdomen. "Nemain tells me that this is a gift," she said as she looked up at the female, the serenity of her face somehow hollow, "and yet it seems so bittersweet."
The soft Caledonian lilt faded into silence. It was difficult to express herself properly. The woman, although she had socially grown, still experienced such difficulties. She wanted to say that her discontent grew from the betrayal she felt that was committed by her body’s harboring of a growing seed not of Onus. She could endure the discomforts of motherhood for which she had not been created. And yet, even if she had been gifted this life, she could not understand why the Morrigan would hinder a warrior’s path. She knew nothing of the care of young.... at least, within the pack, Alexey was fit for such a thing, and the warrior could trust that female with her young and the other youths of the pack. And yet, at once, the black fae was curious about the path upon which she now tread. It was as if she could see the path upon which she had once traveled and knew that she would find it again. For now, she could do only what life would allow her to do.
700+
The woad marked female was content that her words seemed to assuage Anu. It was not often that such words were accepted in such a way—often, as with Sankor, though she could not understand why—her sincere efforts to socialize in such a way were thwarted. The white orbs strayed to the roots of the elm, the woad bound ears swiveling to hear the voice of the beautiful wolf with whom she shared company. Generosity. The warrior could not understand that such generosity would come in such a way. She believed that generosity would come only when the gods saw it fit to employ such a thing. There had been no generosity for Ril’o, but perhaps he had served his purpose in life. And perhaps she had not yet fulfilled her purpose. Perhaps that was why the generosity of Life had been shared with her once more. It was a more practical view upon the workings of the world, but such stoic practicality often was a requisite for those who followed a martial path.
For a moment the woman was still—Anu must know of their love for each other as well. A soft smile moved across her maw, dancing faintly as if remembering how. She was not accustom to hearing that word, though she had heard it often from her lover’s lips. Of all the emotions, it was love, not anger or hate, that moved her. For that, the black warrior was able to believe that she could resist the blackness of the crow wolf that had been brushed against her soul. "The only regret that I would have had would have been to leave him behind." She knew the intensity of his love, had felt it like a hot fire within her. But did he know the intensity of her own? It made her resist Death where once Death was a familiar, almost welcoming presence, for the only death of a warrior was upon a battlefield. He made her greedy for him, and having never felt greed she felt her greed for him move through her with an uncontainable torrent. With him she could show weakness that could not be shown even with herself. Where once she had been content with her solitude, she could be content now only while at his side. And yet, for these inexplicable things, she felt as if she had not allowed him to know.
The white orbs sought those aquatic eyes. "A warrior is not meant to bear life," the soft voice said suddenly. A warrior could protect life. A warrior could accompany death. But to bear life? A warrior was rendered useless, and she felt at a loss. Perhaps if her Dreams were not so chaotic, she would be able to understand. "This litter may have been created of Darkness, but it is life nonetheless...." Was she not required to protect this life as well? But the warrior considered the little that was growing within her, her hands cradling her large abdomen. "Nemain tells me that this is a gift," she said as she looked up at the female, the serenity of her face somehow hollow, "and yet it seems so bittersweet."
The soft Caledonian lilt faded into silence. It was difficult to express herself properly. The woman, although she had socially grown, still experienced such difficulties. She wanted to say that her discontent grew from the betrayal she felt that was committed by her body’s harboring of a growing seed not of Onus. She could endure the discomforts of motherhood for which she had not been created. And yet, even if she had been gifted this life, she could not understand why the Morrigan would hinder a warrior’s path. She knew nothing of the care of young.... at least, within the pack, Alexey was fit for such a thing, and the warrior could trust that female with her young and the other youths of the pack. And yet, at once, the black fae was curious about the path upon which she now tread. It was as if she could see the path upon which she had once traveled and knew that she would find it again. For now, she could do only what life would allow her to do.