09-13-2009, 10:46 AM
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... ombann.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
A smile graced her maw as he took the sleeping forms of their young. The woad bound fingers relinquished the twin forms. The way she moved in that ethereal manner made it seem as if they performed a strange and long forgotten ritual in the accepting of the young by both parents. And even though her lover had already accepted the fruits of her womb, she felt the instinctual relief at the physical acceptance that was performed. He held them to his chest, and those black pools were curious. The twins shifted slightly as Chastity emitted a yawn. They stretched within his hands before falling still once more, taken by the winds of sleep. She wondered if the pups could hear his heartbeat as she had. She wondered if Onus felt the warmth of life that they had so unexpectedly created. She would not deny the discontent at being fettered from the freedoms that she had known, but she did not reject the pups and so was patient, almost embracing those fetters so that she could raise these lives.
The coyote’s gruff voice caused the woad-banded aurals to lift forward, but her eyes did not stray from the children. "You know of gentleness," the soft melody countered, the alto voice a soft susurrus. The white orbs lifted almost tentatively to find his gaze. "You have shown it to me before." Her words were sung with the memory of a night long ago and yet not forgotten. It was the same night, the warrior supposed, of their children’s conception. But she marveled always at the gentleness of his rough hands and of his body, for he had killed, just as she. Her hands and her body had no doubt grown soft with inactivity, but such things could not be lost by a creature such as she who lived upon the very song of war, upon the rhythms of the body, upon each, singular movements that struck the air like the mallet of bells that rang undeniably in the air. Militiae species amor est, the Caledonian-Korean reminded herself. Love could be gentle too. She could know love, could feel it and not understand it. Could be taken by it.
Silently, the warrior pushed herself forward so that she could sit alongside him. Her movements were natural, fluid, and she moved carefully and deliberately to keep the healing leg straight so that the scar would not cry out in protest. She was close to him, but her proximity was only the suggestion of a touch and the distance persisted. The Raven Dreamer lifted her hand once more, placing it over the sleeping pups, her fingers brushing almost indiscernibly upon his hands. The white orbs watched the scene as if she were not a part of it, and she was content at the unity of the unexpected family. The white orbs, bright as they caught the light filtered through the trees, lifted search his face and lastly his eyes. "You will protect them," the soft susurrus sang. "Do not be concerned." The woad warrior trusted him, and her eyes, white and impassive, seemed to move with love as she held his gaze.
A smile graced her maw as he took the sleeping forms of their young. The woad bound fingers relinquished the twin forms. The way she moved in that ethereal manner made it seem as if they performed a strange and long forgotten ritual in the accepting of the young by both parents. And even though her lover had already accepted the fruits of her womb, she felt the instinctual relief at the physical acceptance that was performed. He held them to his chest, and those black pools were curious. The twins shifted slightly as Chastity emitted a yawn. They stretched within his hands before falling still once more, taken by the winds of sleep. She wondered if the pups could hear his heartbeat as she had. She wondered if Onus felt the warmth of life that they had so unexpectedly created. She would not deny the discontent at being fettered from the freedoms that she had known, but she did not reject the pups and so was patient, almost embracing those fetters so that she could raise these lives.
The coyote’s gruff voice caused the woad-banded aurals to lift forward, but her eyes did not stray from the children. "You know of gentleness," the soft melody countered, the alto voice a soft susurrus. The white orbs lifted almost tentatively to find his gaze. "You have shown it to me before." Her words were sung with the memory of a night long ago and yet not forgotten. It was the same night, the warrior supposed, of their children’s conception. But she marveled always at the gentleness of his rough hands and of his body, for he had killed, just as she. Her hands and her body had no doubt grown soft with inactivity, but such things could not be lost by a creature such as she who lived upon the very song of war, upon the rhythms of the body, upon each, singular movements that struck the air like the mallet of bells that rang undeniably in the air. Militiae species amor est, the Caledonian-Korean reminded herself. Love could be gentle too. She could know love, could feel it and not understand it. Could be taken by it.
Silently, the warrior pushed herself forward so that she could sit alongside him. Her movements were natural, fluid, and she moved carefully and deliberately to keep the healing leg straight so that the scar would not cry out in protest. She was close to him, but her proximity was only the suggestion of a touch and the distance persisted. The Raven Dreamer lifted her hand once more, placing it over the sleeping pups, her fingers brushing almost indiscernibly upon his hands. The white orbs watched the scene as if she were not a part of it, and she was content at the unity of the unexpected family. The white orbs, bright as they caught the light filtered through the trees, lifted search his face and lastly his eyes. "You will protect them," the soft susurrus sang. "Do not be concerned." The woad warrior trusted him, and her eyes, white and impassive, seemed to move with love as she held his gaze.