Manifestation

Cwmfen nic Graine · 08-02-2010, 10:10 AM

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I hope that this set-up is okay, ^=^ If you had something else in mind, let me know~ And the length is just for the ‘introduction’, I guess, hahah…! ^=^;;
700+

The Song of War sang wildly within her soul, manifesting into the tangible world through the tearing tones of her snarl. And yet, that snarl was naught but a lick of War’s Frenzy that moved through her, the Frenzy that so surely was guided by Nemain’s hand. The child of the Morrigan flashed her teeth, those partially parted jaws hungering for the blood beneath the loner’s flesh. Even from that distance, she could feel his pulse reverberate through the air—or perhaps it was the beat of her own wild heart reveling in this ancient dance of War of which she was a master. Blood already warmed her muzzle, darkening the woad upon her maw. With hackles raised and her muscles relaxed, the impassive gaze, so tranquil and yet so wildly feral, was fixed upon the yellow eyes. The she-wolf’s harsh breathing was not of fatigue—despite the wounds that had been painted on her body, her bellicose state allowed no weakness to enter her— and instead was of sanguine zeal. The loner’s two companions lay dead at her feet, and still the trespasser was unwilling to yield. For that, the white-eyed Warrior marveled at the loner’s devotion to cause.

But the Woaded Warrior had been swift, precise—merciless, for her body moved with the her own devotion and her muscles sang of war. The hungering jaws parted and closed, snapping in the air—once—twice—as the black wolf flew forth. Having offered no hint of her attack, the loner barely had time to react—and too late. Those strong, white teeth closed about his throat pausing only briefly to allow struggle, to allow the knowledge of defeat to sink in, before they crushed the windpipe. A rush of air was expelled into the world, a thunderous sound in the sudden silence. The pied Raven called and took flight, carrying the souls of the fallen across the River of Life and Death. Releasing the loner, the body fell limply to the earth darkened by the blood of four, dead eyes dully watching a distant place.

The Sanguine Frenzy grew faint in the white gaze, and tranquility and peace were restored.

A pink tongue licked the blood from her maw. For a brief moment, the Dahlian Warrior beheld the work of her jaws. Three dead loners—no doubt a triumvirate formed merely for the desire to plunder the fruits of the pack. As required by pack wolves, diplomacy had first been implemented. But when diplomacy fails, War is waged.

Cwmfen nic Graine turned away, unmoved by the dead. They had fallen in battle. She had given them a glorious death—a death she could only hope to have. A soft, contented breath was expelled into the soft, worldly song, for a Warrior was content when a battle was fought and won and peace was restored.

She found herself at the far boarders. It was a strangely familiar place. Indeed, these boarders, so near the concrete jungle of Halifax, reminded her of passion. This passion, however, was quite different (and yet the same) as the passion that had just moved through her. The city was a place she could never quite love as she loved the woods, but, for its memory, she had grown fond of that human vestige. Fluidly, the Warrior moved into the shadow of concrete, feeling now the burn of her wounds. Three to one, the battle had been costly despite its victory. A rest would be required, but her wounds required tending also. The deepest were at her shoulders. Fatigue quickly set into her flesh, and yet the careful training of the black fae did not allow such a thing to betray her. Although she knew her body was tired, she herself could not quite feel the extent of her own current weakness.

Quietly, the wolf ascended the steps that lead to the apartment. It had been nearly a year since she had returned there. Already, the weather had erased evidence of their presence and fornication. But his supplies remained. Donning the most unnatural, bipedal shape, the warrior took a few dried herbs and left, this time through the window. The graceful woman found purchase first within a tree. The tree’s soft laughter of delight was the only hint of Cwmfen’s presence before she landed silently upon the stone, sitting to tend to her wounds. Having licked the wounds clean (and they were more benign than she had anticipated), the Dahlian placed the herbs within her mouth, before applying them. A soft sting told her that the herbs had not lost their medicinal properties. A soft smile moved across her maw, and with a sigh, the woad-marked woman leaned against the tree, able now to rest her battle-fatigued body.

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