07-17-2009, 07:27 PM
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500+
The white orbs watched with great interest as Onus caught another fish. It seemed like a very practical way to fish, a way that seemed to make sense to the warrior. The method described may have been vague for another creature, but for the woad marked fae, it made perfect sense. A placid smile graced her maw in silent reply. Cwmfen liked to watch him, but, at the same time, her own idleness disturbed the warrior. She wondered what it would be like to move again, to truly move as she had once been able to do. And such a time seemed so long ago, her worries much different than the worries of today. Today, her worries were foreign and in an arena with which she was unfamiliar. She hoped, however, that the females of her pack would find time enough to give her a few mentoring words when she needed them.
"I will have one or two," the soft voice replied automatically. She paused then, and thought about it. Sometimes she still forgot how hungry the litter actually made her, and sometimes she still forgot that she needed to eat more than she was accustom to eating. "Maybe three...or four, even," the melody corrected herself. She gave the coyote an almost timid smile and a single, soft laughter that still rang with silver, not with gold. Although she had only just finished eating the first fish, the woad bound fingers reached for another. "Maybe five." The white orbs were fixed upon the fish that she held as she admitted to the number she might want to eat—not that she might want to eat, but that she felt that she needed to eat. The soft smile faded from her lips. All at once, five seemed like enough and a lot. Slowly and shyly, the woman began to devour her second fish.
"Yes," the soft alto replied quietly, answering both questions with that single word. There was a brief silence as her gaze dropped to the waters absently. "They make hunting difficult," the soft melody continued at length, the ambiguous ‘they’ assumed to be referring to the wounds, though she could have referred to the litter as well. "I don’t usually hunt weaponless in this form." The next meal was always upon the black fae’s mind these days, and her appetite continued to grow. Without the ability to properly practice the arts of war, she concentrated on boarder patrol and hunting. It seemed that she was always hungry in a way that was inconvenient. Where once she could have lived off of a single meal for several days—a thing acquired upon those barren fields of ice—she ate multiple times a day. There were often times in which she craved something particular, like fish, but could not obtain it on her own, which, surprisingly, darkened her mood considerably. But she did not trouble Onus with such cravings. However, the delight that she experienced from having such a craving satisfied was to an extent that she would not have believed possible. It was almost troubling to the warrior how her life now revolved not about war but about her meals. "Thank you," she said at length, her voice a quiet susurrus.
500+
The white orbs watched with great interest as Onus caught another fish. It seemed like a very practical way to fish, a way that seemed to make sense to the warrior. The method described may have been vague for another creature, but for the woad marked fae, it made perfect sense. A placid smile graced her maw in silent reply. Cwmfen liked to watch him, but, at the same time, her own idleness disturbed the warrior. She wondered what it would be like to move again, to truly move as she had once been able to do. And such a time seemed so long ago, her worries much different than the worries of today. Today, her worries were foreign and in an arena with which she was unfamiliar. She hoped, however, that the females of her pack would find time enough to give her a few mentoring words when she needed them.
"I will have one or two," the soft voice replied automatically. She paused then, and thought about it. Sometimes she still forgot how hungry the litter actually made her, and sometimes she still forgot that she needed to eat more than she was accustom to eating. "Maybe three...or four, even," the melody corrected herself. She gave the coyote an almost timid smile and a single, soft laughter that still rang with silver, not with gold. Although she had only just finished eating the first fish, the woad bound fingers reached for another. "Maybe five." The white orbs were fixed upon the fish that she held as she admitted to the number she might want to eat—not that she might want to eat, but that she felt that she needed to eat. The soft smile faded from her lips. All at once, five seemed like enough and a lot. Slowly and shyly, the woman began to devour her second fish.
"Yes," the soft alto replied quietly, answering both questions with that single word. There was a brief silence as her gaze dropped to the waters absently. "They make hunting difficult," the soft melody continued at length, the ambiguous ‘they’ assumed to be referring to the wounds, though she could have referred to the litter as well. "I don’t usually hunt weaponless in this form." The next meal was always upon the black fae’s mind these days, and her appetite continued to grow. Without the ability to properly practice the arts of war, she concentrated on boarder patrol and hunting. It seemed that she was always hungry in a way that was inconvenient. Where once she could have lived off of a single meal for several days—a thing acquired upon those barren fields of ice—she ate multiple times a day. There were often times in which she craved something particular, like fish, but could not obtain it on her own, which, surprisingly, darkened her mood considerably. But she did not trouble Onus with such cravings. However, the delight that she experienced from having such a craving satisfied was to an extent that she would not have believed possible. It was almost troubling to the warrior how her life now revolved not about war but about her meals. "Thank you," she said at length, her voice a quiet susurrus.