The Raven Dreamer

Cwmfen nic Graine · 08-05-2010, 09:00 AM

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WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content, graphic violence, or extremely offensive material. Reader discretion is advised.

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Dream Sequence!
500+

The night was dark. It was as any other night, falling after dusk and soon to retreat with the coming of dawn. The earth was still, but the world was whispering as the heavens wept softly. Silver tears coated the foliage of the woods. Night birds joined in upon the ethereal song, but their voices were ephemeral additions, for they, too, wished to listen to the song of the earth. Tonight, in the Dahlian woods, the song was different—neither rejoicing nor lamenting. No voice save the pied Raven dare disturb the serenity that was held in the clutches of the night, and his voice mercilessly cut the air with black feathers that took him to the darkened sky. Talons clutched at the darkness as if the tenebrous matter were tangible. The Great Oak, standing sentinel, remembered that a year before, wrens had sung their blessing at the birthing of the two-egg twins borne from the womb of a Woaded Warrior. And the Warrior remembered also, drifting into Limbo at the bidding of a Raven.

There was only Darkness.

Here, the Woad that marked the curvature of her body seemed to glow, as did her eyes like the cold fires of the moon. Lughnasadh had bless the earth, but this year her womb was empty. The wolf no longer carried out the duties of motherhood, and the two-egg twins were old enough, skilled enough, to fight the wars waged upon them.

The Woaded Warrior lived now to win the wars waged upon her.

The woad shone, and the eyes were ablaze. And yet she was naught but a tenebrous shadow filling the shape that the blue and white had formed.

A sigh, savage with the sanguine passions of her soul, stroked the darkness with harsh claws. No longer wolf, the Raven Dreamer rose up in a shape she seldom took. When she had changed was unknown, but the wolf-born fae was accepting of the change and moved forth in the darkness.

She knew this place.

Scents rose up to stroke her mind, familiarity rising up to greet them. One she caught most keenly, and a hunger grew within her. The hunger began at her jaws, those jaws that took life and drank the blood that flowed from dying lives. But it was not a hunger that ended at the jaws. Like a lover’s touch, the desire traveled down her body, alighting her with that unfamiliar and yet most natural desire. It made her feral.

The darkness lifted ever so slightly, and the black-furred woman found herself in a land far from the flower pack. The Raven’s voice called once more, but his voice fell silent and would not call to her again in this Dreaming. A Dream. As powerful as the Raven Dreamer Dreamt, this could be naught but a Dreaming, an intangible reality. And here, in the familiar woods, she was the only one. Desire wracked her body like a disease. The Warrior snarled. This solitude was not pulchritudinous. She wished to know the knowledge that could be gained, and a lover had given it to her. But now, alone in the flower pack, she could not know it any longer. She had given up that freedom upon the joining with that man. Yet that man was no longer at her side, remaining in a far-off place at her own bidding.

Such pleasures were no longer meant for the Warrior.

Kneeling, she drank from the waters of the pool, drinking the essence of the Dream as if it were the source of her own ethereal quality. Soon she would return to the world of Reality.

Soon.

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