07-28-2009, 11:51 PM
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500+
Love. The word fell like a heavy stone within the placid waters of her soul. The impact echoed in her mind, and she was silent as she listened. Love, she repeated when the ripples had grown still. And yet she carried the litter of another like some common whore. Even her culture would look poorly upon it, and more so because she could no longer do what she was purposed to do. It was strange how these preordained existences worked, strange how Nemain would wish this upon her. But she could question the gods no more than as she could question the wind and the water for singing. And yet, she understood. She, too, had felt the strength of love as surely as she had once felt his arms about her. How vulnerable it had rendered her, and yet how strong it was, like nothing she had ever known. Not even War.
The woad marked female wanted to reach out to him. How foolish her question seemed, and how greatly she wished to express her love for him in return. But she could not make her hand move. How could she show him? How could she let him know? Perhaps he simply knew, just as she had simply known the answer to her question as soon as the words had left her lips. Cwmfen could simply look upon him, and she hoped that her eyes and the soul beyond them was enough for him, for silence had bound her maw as did the woad.
The white orbs turned slowly to watch as he reached out, quietly surprised by the curiosity he had for the lives that did not belong to him. The black fae was still, quieted as if she did not know how she would react to his touch. But when that soft contact was made, her body did not push him away. Her heart beat with relief. Her own hands moved up to his, placing themselves upon his hand and wrist as she gently pressed his touch against her belly. And the lives within her moved again, and it was as if they knew, knew something that they did not. The warrior’s breath caught slightly with that movement, for it was both something sudden and something that she could not control. Her gaze lifted to find his, a measured gaze, quiet and wondering.
"I know that Darkness created them," her quiet melody sang, "but I cannot help but feel..." Her voice faltered as she sought the proper word with which to express her thoughts that moved like liquid song through her soul. "Content," she finished. But was content the right word? In her mind, it made the right colours, but words were different for her. The white orbs lifted to find his gaze once more. Would Love be strong enough to allow him to understand how the one he loved could accept a child planted by a creature of shadow, planted by incest, planted as a black seed that had infected her with more than just life.
500+
Love. The word fell like a heavy stone within the placid waters of her soul. The impact echoed in her mind, and she was silent as she listened. Love, she repeated when the ripples had grown still. And yet she carried the litter of another like some common whore. Even her culture would look poorly upon it, and more so because she could no longer do what she was purposed to do. It was strange how these preordained existences worked, strange how Nemain would wish this upon her. But she could question the gods no more than as she could question the wind and the water for singing. And yet, she understood. She, too, had felt the strength of love as surely as she had once felt his arms about her. How vulnerable it had rendered her, and yet how strong it was, like nothing she had ever known. Not even War.
The woad marked female wanted to reach out to him. How foolish her question seemed, and how greatly she wished to express her love for him in return. But she could not make her hand move. How could she show him? How could she let him know? Perhaps he simply knew, just as she had simply known the answer to her question as soon as the words had left her lips. Cwmfen could simply look upon him, and she hoped that her eyes and the soul beyond them was enough for him, for silence had bound her maw as did the woad.
The white orbs turned slowly to watch as he reached out, quietly surprised by the curiosity he had for the lives that did not belong to him. The black fae was still, quieted as if she did not know how she would react to his touch. But when that soft contact was made, her body did not push him away. Her heart beat with relief. Her own hands moved up to his, placing themselves upon his hand and wrist as she gently pressed his touch against her belly. And the lives within her moved again, and it was as if they knew, knew something that they did not. The warrior’s breath caught slightly with that movement, for it was both something sudden and something that she could not control. Her gaze lifted to find his, a measured gaze, quiet and wondering.
"I know that Darkness created them," her quiet melody sang, "but I cannot help but feel..." Her voice faltered as she sought the proper word with which to express her thoughts that moved like liquid song through her soul. "Content," she finished. But was content the right word? In her mind, it made the right colours, but words were different for her. The white orbs lifted to find his gaze once more. Would Love be strong enough to allow him to understand how the one he loved could accept a child planted by a creature of shadow, planted by incest, planted as a black seed that had infected her with more than just life.