An Old Man's Quest: Part 2

Ghita Marino · 08-31-2010, 08:36 AM

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Sure, I'll reply one last time. Thanks for the thread! I enjoyed it. ^^
Wc: 927

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

In Ghita's heart, there was one thing that the two wolves who shared canes would never truly agree on. And that was their attitudes towards Old Red. Perhaps if Marcus knew about Cambria's already troubled past, he would start to share her attitude, but that wasn't about to happen. What had happened to Cambria was one of Crimson Dreams' closely guarded secrets. And besides - it wasn't even her story to tell. The aunt knew her niece wouldn't want that experience to be shared freely, and so she held her tongue.

But for the child who had already been through so much, it seemed almost harsh for Old Red to collapse on her and Mati when the pair were just having a fun day of it. And, there were some nightmares attached to the collapse, although she had never shared this information with anyone. Old Red of course starred in this sadistic cinema, with Cambria just out of reach, grabbing with scared, frightened hands for her aunt, blaming her, demanding why Ghita wasn't there to help her. And the old building? It was collapsing on her slowly, beam by beam, forcing the fae down and down again, until she was buried.

Someone skilled in dream analysis would likely draw something from this, similar to her life's story of being beaten down over and over again with miscarriages, loss, and injury. But the timber aunt wasn't consciously aware of this. According to her, she was settled with her past, and it couldn't hurt her any more. What had passed in Ghita's life was just that - her past. Even by it's definition, it was over and should be unable to hinder her.

Still watching Marcus from where the slender fae sat, she snapped out of her memories to listen to the wolf who would soon become her mentor. And so far, she held a slight suspicion for what he was saying, which turned out to be right. The anger didn't show itself in an obvious way, just with a tightened grip around her cane. In reality, her blood was boiling, the hatred for her condition and for the statement that sprang because of it. The fae knew that her body wasn't ready, or didn't seem to be. But she also knew that she could, and would push herself, not so much out of eagerness to train, but the need to show the ones close to her that she was fine, and could physically be ready for whatever came her way.

At this point, she could only nod, the bitterness plain on her face, despite how much she was attacking her bottom lip to hide this. Her turquoise eyes had narrowed, although it was no fault of Marcus'. He just told the truth, which wasn't anywhere near what the strong-willed fae wanted to hear. Her soon-to-be-teacher was right to assume that her mind would be full of unspoken words, some more harsh than the next, to voice, but he was wrong to assume that she'd act on it. The bitter taste of disappointment was fresh on her tongue, paralyzing it, the fae unable to say anything more. However, she wasn't quite about to join Marcus in smiling, although the more rational part of her told herself to.

But a month seemed like quite a long time to stay stagnant again. Unable to help it, an indignant scoff broke through her lips, beginning to show her true colours. If the Musketeer was this willing to take her on as a pupil, he'd have to understand that her very nature restricted her actions, sometimes. No... Ghita knew very well that a month would be good for her body, but terror for her soul. Two weeks, maybe, and that would still involve her responsibilities to hunt and defend her pack, as well as raise her pack's young.

Read? Perhaps Marcus didn't have a firm enough grip on their culture if he expected her to be able to read. It was the exception, not the rule, that wolves like her knew how to read, and especially with her background, that'd be harder. An Italian immigrant, essentially, she was having enough trouble with speaking English, let alone reading it. And her birth pack was strictly traditional, never wanting to promote anything, including reading, that their ancient forbears wouldn't have. No, Ghita couldn't read anything besides her own name, but she could paint, something Mati taught her. "I'll find something." She murmured, already knowing her reflexes were quite good from hunting. That was her gift, and reflexes came in at the end of the hunt, when hooves, teeth, and claws were flying in the heat of the moment.

Rising to her paws now, Ghita looked to Marcus and smiled, although not all of her happiness was there. "Thank you, Marcus, it's been a pleasure." Watching her new companion leave, the fae briefly wondered if he had a place to sleep. He must, if he was quickly shuffling away from here with a clear definition in mind. And besides, the Manor was the opposite direction. But what he had said last pricked a stirring of excitement in her. What a surprise she could give to her mate if she could suddenly hold her own in a fight? She intended to hold that small secret dear for as long as she could. Surveying the disappearing figure until he slipped out of sight, the fae turned on her heel, preparing for the long limp back to the Manor, when suddenly.. it didn't seem quite as long after all.

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