Goat Stew

Cwmfen nic Graine · 08-07-2010, 07:22 PM

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Hello and welcome to ‘Souls! I’ll keep my posts short so that replies can be made quick. That way you’ll be accepted faster and be able to post in DDM and the other IC forums, ^=^
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Having risen early, the black wolf had doffed her natural form for the shape that allowed her to wield weapons. Since her Dreaming upon the night of Lughnasadh, since she had seen the masked vigilante once again, the Caledonian-Korean had been moved to take up Badb and the Raven Spear once more, and to fight weaponless in that way that her Korean blood allowed her. She found that the memory of War returned to her easily, and she trained until dawn had kissed the horizon and longer. The ferocity of War sang so vividly within her soul as to be nearly overwhelming to the synesthete, and the enlightened tranquility within her trembled for it. Battle hardened sinew wrapped about her lithe, effeminate form, the strength softened by the woaded coat. The pied Raven sang harshly in the air made alive by her ephemeral movements. Passion flowed from every attack and defense. She did not cease to move until hunger, not fatigue, commanded her so.

The Raven Dreamer assumed her natural shape one more, moving swiftly, fluidly, through the shadowed woods. Exhilaration still moved through her blood like the light of the sun, but the carefully disciplined senses drank in their surroundings. The wolf traveled near the boarders, intent upon satisfying the hunger so as to sustain her working body. She could smell something—prey animal. The woaded female slowed, her steps deliberate. She became the hunter, the white, lunar eyes luminous in the shadows. Her nose alert, her ears erect, she moved as a killer, the strong jaws hungry.

But what she found was not prey. It was something strange, and a canine sat at its head. Emerging from cover, the Woaded Warrior took several steps toward the strange sight. The tranquil façade seemed unmoved, her erect posture somehow relaxed and unconcerned. Yet curiosity seemed to skim across the white gaze, tickling the grace of her Warrior’s body. For many moments, the simple wolf studied the prey creatures, still alive, within that cage, and the creature that was like a horse. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Bewildered, and yet with no hint of her bewilderment upon her graceful, tranquil features, the Warrior turned toward the strange canine. Coyote and yet not, the creature was just as strange as the things around her. “Hail, loner,” the alto melody sang, the tones dancing with silver feet upon the air. “What have you brought to Dahlia’s borders?”

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