07-29-2009, 12:15 AM
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500+
The white orbs watched through the darkness, her sight unhindered by the heaviness of the night. There was a moment of stillness before he rose, and her eyes lifted to follow his progress. As he turned to face her, she could see the coyote’s red eyes, and her mind immediately went to Hybrid Holocaust. That particular coyote had caught her after she had fallen through the ice that had been much thinner than the ice of the north. He had taken a larger form, and with her slowed, hypothermic body, she would have lost her life had not the medic, Bane, found her. But this coyote was not Hybrid Holocaust. Their red eyes were similar, but that was all. They did not feel the same. This male was different, an unrefined darkness within the jewels. But the warrior did not move away. She was not foolish as she had been then. And despite the heaviness of her womb, she could have responded to an attack. But she did not want to risk the lives that grew within her. So, for those brief moments in which the Dahlian observed him that that calculating gaze, the Raven Warrior was still.
But there, she could sense that darkness within him, and a quiet curiosity brushed against her soul. He spoke then, breaking the silence, and the woad bound ears pricked forward. The tranquility of the warrior’s features was unmoved by his request. "And what promise must I make," the quiet melody replied, "to one who may be undeserving?" The white orbs met the male’s gaze without effort, that innate intensity unrelenting within it as she fell silent. She wondered who the male was to demand such a thing of her. Hybrid had lain claim to her tail, although he would claim it only when he had earned it. She did not know when that time would be, but she knew that her death would be in battle. Perhaps he would have earned such a thing, although she did not think that he would. The woad warrior did not often make the same mistake twice. But this male, he had deserved nothing of her. He was simply a stranger.
"Who are you," the soft melody sang. The red eyes made her suspect a certain lineage that seemed to thrive within these lands, but the warrior never assumed. And what would she do with his name? She could do nothing with it, the woman decided, but store it alongside the other names and scents that she had stored in the back of her mind. The woad-marked fae became alert, sensing a strange, belligerent desire and yet sensing no immediate threat. And yet she did not let her senses fall, especially now when the wounds, while quiet, were not completely healed and when life moved within her. Her fingers pressed into her belly as if to urge them into silence with a quiet reassurance. The warrior promised them that nothing would befall them. She was certain that nothing would.
500+
The white orbs watched through the darkness, her sight unhindered by the heaviness of the night. There was a moment of stillness before he rose, and her eyes lifted to follow his progress. As he turned to face her, she could see the coyote’s red eyes, and her mind immediately went to Hybrid Holocaust. That particular coyote had caught her after she had fallen through the ice that had been much thinner than the ice of the north. He had taken a larger form, and with her slowed, hypothermic body, she would have lost her life had not the medic, Bane, found her. But this coyote was not Hybrid Holocaust. Their red eyes were similar, but that was all. They did not feel the same. This male was different, an unrefined darkness within the jewels. But the warrior did not move away. She was not foolish as she had been then. And despite the heaviness of her womb, she could have responded to an attack. But she did not want to risk the lives that grew within her. So, for those brief moments in which the Dahlian observed him that that calculating gaze, the Raven Warrior was still.
But there, she could sense that darkness within him, and a quiet curiosity brushed against her soul. He spoke then, breaking the silence, and the woad bound ears pricked forward. The tranquility of the warrior’s features was unmoved by his request. "And what promise must I make," the quiet melody replied, "to one who may be undeserving?" The white orbs met the male’s gaze without effort, that innate intensity unrelenting within it as she fell silent. She wondered who the male was to demand such a thing of her. Hybrid had lain claim to her tail, although he would claim it only when he had earned it. She did not know when that time would be, but she knew that her death would be in battle. Perhaps he would have earned such a thing, although she did not think that he would. The woad warrior did not often make the same mistake twice. But this male, he had deserved nothing of her. He was simply a stranger.
"Who are you," the soft melody sang. The red eyes made her suspect a certain lineage that seemed to thrive within these lands, but the warrior never assumed. And what would she do with his name? She could do nothing with it, the woman decided, but store it alongside the other names and scents that she had stored in the back of her mind. The woad-marked fae became alert, sensing a strange, belligerent desire and yet sensing no immediate threat. And yet she did not let her senses fall, especially now when the wounds, while quiet, were not completely healed and when life moved within her. Her fingers pressed into her belly as if to urge them into silence with a quiet reassurance. The warrior promised them that nothing would befall them. She was certain that nothing would.