08-24-2009, 10:32 PM
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You’re fine, ^=^
I used that same pic for a Cwmfen table once.... Only I made it blue-ish
500+
A curiosity. The black fae watched him, her gaze held easily and unwavering, not challenging and yet not submitting. It was a strange thing, to be considered a ‘curiosity’. She understood then the nature of that male. "Only the worthy should learn the arts of war." It was a truth, but the black fe knew that it were not always so. There was always a corruption willing to slip by the scrutiny of a master, a malice willing to be patient long enough to learn all that could be learned before departing with blood upon their hands. And yet, a creature like that would never truly understand war, for war did not house such souls. Even Corvus had learned before his soul had rotted into that hollow nothing that shone with no light. That was what made Corvus dangerous. But he was dead. All creatures must die. Even the good. Even the bad. All things that have a beginning have an end, and Fate did not offer otherwise.
There was quiet movement against her swollen belly, and the woad bound fingers moved slowly and gently across her abdomen. And the lives that made her heavy fell still once more. "Then we shall see," the alto melody responded. The curiosity moved across the calm eyes of white as the moonlight moves across the still surface of a pool. The spar would determine all things, and until then she could wait in patience as she must wait for the lives within her to grow. The black soot that had settled like tar upon her soul strained, sparked by her curiosity. They sought to grasp her soul more firmly, but the purity of her soul was like a diamond still and could but be shrouded in darkness. And untroubled by the silence, the woad warrior allowed it to persist as the sound of the coyote’s voice died.
"I would find something with which I am familiar." The black fae did not think that this coyote would give her something that she did not already know or suspect. But one could never be certain until the essence was truly sampled. Perhaps she would be surprised. Perhaps. "But it is not what I will find but what you are willing to give." The soft alto fell to silence, and it seemed now that it was with the silence that she spoke, a voice so strange as to be soundless. The Raven Spear hummed, a brass ringing, as its blade tasted the air. The white orbs seemed to glow in the darkness of the night as she watched him, her gaze distant, calculating, impassive. She did not move closer as she stood there, but was unmoved. The warrior’s erected posture and tranquil impassivity seemed to command and not demand, as if she were the very warrior goddess that sent her Dreams upon a pied Raven’s wings. "What would you be willing to give, Samael?" The quiet melody seemed to whisper in the night and yet rise up as the song of all wolves, and almost it seemed as if there were a wild belligerence in her song. The Caledonian-Korean tilted her head ever so slightly, imperceptibly, in query.
I used that same pic for a Cwmfen table once.... Only I made it blue-ish
500+
A curiosity. The black fae watched him, her gaze held easily and unwavering, not challenging and yet not submitting. It was a strange thing, to be considered a ‘curiosity’. She understood then the nature of that male. "Only the worthy should learn the arts of war." It was a truth, but the black fe knew that it were not always so. There was always a corruption willing to slip by the scrutiny of a master, a malice willing to be patient long enough to learn all that could be learned before departing with blood upon their hands. And yet, a creature like that would never truly understand war, for war did not house such souls. Even Corvus had learned before his soul had rotted into that hollow nothing that shone with no light. That was what made Corvus dangerous. But he was dead. All creatures must die. Even the good. Even the bad. All things that have a beginning have an end, and Fate did not offer otherwise.
There was quiet movement against her swollen belly, and the woad bound fingers moved slowly and gently across her abdomen. And the lives that made her heavy fell still once more. "Then we shall see," the alto melody responded. The curiosity moved across the calm eyes of white as the moonlight moves across the still surface of a pool. The spar would determine all things, and until then she could wait in patience as she must wait for the lives within her to grow. The black soot that had settled like tar upon her soul strained, sparked by her curiosity. They sought to grasp her soul more firmly, but the purity of her soul was like a diamond still and could but be shrouded in darkness. And untroubled by the silence, the woad warrior allowed it to persist as the sound of the coyote’s voice died.
"I would find something with which I am familiar." The black fae did not think that this coyote would give her something that she did not already know or suspect. But one could never be certain until the essence was truly sampled. Perhaps she would be surprised. Perhaps. "But it is not what I will find but what you are willing to give." The soft alto fell to silence, and it seemed now that it was with the silence that she spoke, a voice so strange as to be soundless. The Raven Spear hummed, a brass ringing, as its blade tasted the air. The white orbs seemed to glow in the darkness of the night as she watched him, her gaze distant, calculating, impassive. She did not move closer as she stood there, but was unmoved. The warrior’s erected posture and tranquil impassivity seemed to command and not demand, as if she were the very warrior goddess that sent her Dreams upon a pied Raven’s wings. "What would you be willing to give, Samael?" The quiet melody seemed to whisper in the night and yet rise up as the song of all wolves, and almost it seemed as if there were a wild belligerence in her song. The Caledonian-Korean tilted her head ever so slightly, imperceptibly, in query.