May I Join?

Cwmfen nic Graine · 06-21-2010, 09:50 AM

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Sorry for the wait; also, I’m going to have Cwmfen call for the Alpha now, ^=^
500+

The Woaded Warrior found the loner’s newly assumed posture to be more appropriate. Such a position was humble, for a sitting wolf was surely at a greater disadvantage and at the mercy of a standing wolf. As the younger wolf was indeed at the mercy of Cwmfen’s jaws, the Dahlian was satisfied that the other now understood the difference between the different postures of submission. A quiet smile imperceptibly touched the wolf’s black lips, but her silence was the only indication of her approval. And in the silence, the Raven Dreamer listened. Those songs of silence painted the still waters of her soul, humming with the Song that thrived there and that sang of War and Peace. She listened also to the colours that came faintly forth from the blue-eyed youth, contemplating their quality. The Dahlian did believe that the loner would be permitted to join the ranks of Dahlia so long as respect was given to all members of the flower pack regardless of rank, and so as long as a contribution, one that all members of every pack were expected to make, was made.

Woad banded ears, drank in the loner’s response. The given window into the stranger’s past, the mention of a deceased brother, did not seem to phase the warrior, who remained tranquilly unmoved. But that information was stored within the back of her mind for later use and contemplation. Instead, a soft nod was given. “Hunters are always useful for a growing pack,” the alto melody sang. “Warriors are also in need.” However, the black fae thought, such a life is not meant for everyone. “Should you be permitted to join Dahlia’s ranks,” the soft tones continued, ”and should your interest in War remain, come and find me. I am a Warrior for Dahlia de Mai.” And that was perhaps the only personal point that was revealed to the blue-eyed adolescent.

The one-eyed Raven’s tenebrous form descended from the damp sky to find a place upon the Dreamer’s shoulder. His inky gaze was turned toward the stranger, emotionless and piercing, empty and cold. The pied bird’s beak clicked almost mockingly as he foiled the Dahlian Warrior. “The wolf named Conor Soul is Alpha Male of Dahlia de Mai. He will decide ultimately the end of your request to join.” A quiet smile danced across the woad-banded maw, an amiable gesture that the emotionally distant female had learned to wear as a gesture of the kindness and comfort that was often lost within the calm waters of her being. Fluidly, the jaws lifted to the heavens and released a call whose silver song sang with a dolorous touch, as if she called not to the young man that held the loyalty of the Woaded Warrior, but as if she called to the tenebrous selpulchres of belligerent memories long past. And as the strange song that belonged to Cwmfen faded into that silence that she found to be so pulchritudinous, the white orbs returned to the stranger at the boarders. The pied Raven murmured quietly, but his gaze had never left the one opposite the Dreamer.

“My name is Cwmfen nic Graine,” the soft susurrus sang serenely. “Although you have failed to provide me with an introduction,” she continued, although not unkindly, “it would be fitting to provide one to the Alpha when he arrives.” It was simply that strange culture of respect that the Caledonian-Korean had been raised to expect. While she did not think that Conor would mind, it would be proper for the blue-eyed loner to introduce herself.

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