A Fire for the Mark

Yi TaeKyung · 07-29-2011, 05:04 PM

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Thanks for your patience with me, too OuO
WC: 555

Strong, yet feminine hands, caused the two splinters of woods to meet. The hands rubbed them together, the soft, repetitive sound of the contact whispering in the silent night air. Soon, the silence was interrupted by the distant clatter of something approaching. Yet, for the task at hand, the obsidian woman ignored it. The warrior was determined to create the fire regardless of her lack of knowledge. But no matter how she moved the wood together, the fire would not begin. Smoke did not emerge. Nothing happened. A soft frown marred the woman’s emotionless face. Her hands allowed the wood to fall back to the cold tar as the white orbs watched the unmoving scene thoughtfully. Still, she ignored the sound of approach, it’s noisy clatter offensive to the night. The dark winds brought her the scent of prey and beast. Her mouth twitched. Two unnatural joining. And yet they approached her. Still she ignored them. They did not concern her. The fighter was confident and ready as ever even as her attention was placed elsewhere. But simply watching the wood would not do—the fire would not begin on its own.

Her thoughts paused and there was silence once more. The black aurals twitched, raised above her head. The white orbs remained fixed upon the task she had placed before her knees, choosing still to ignore this intruder. It was strange, she thought, that these Western wolves did not first seek audience before directly approaching. But she supposed she could pardon such a thing—it was a cultural difference after all. As silence continued, she thought that the stranger (for she recognized neither scent of beast and prey) might continue on and allow her the solitude. But the silence was broken once more by the voice. Finally, the white orbs turned up toward the male who sat upon his prey—such a strange sight, although not unfamiliar—and she rose, the confidence and dominance openly held upon her erected posture. She held it as easily as the one she was mistaken for, but the obsidian fae’s presence was not gentle at all. The Jindo hybrid regarded the large male who weighed himself with armor to protect his soft skin. She, on the other hand, required only her natural nakedness to fight.

“Hehl-loh,” the alto song replied, the empty tones neither hostile nor unfriendly. It seemed as if this male was himself, amicable. The lunar eyes caught something in the male’s expression—it was almost as if he recognized her. The black crania tilted slightly, a mild curiosity stirring within her. She chose to play this game of amiability, intrigued by the male’s response. She bowed slightly in greeting, as was customary in her culture, although she did not give him the deep bow of one deeply respected. He was a stranger to her, after all. “Wah-teu....?” Her voice trailed off as if she were unsure as to how to finish the sentence. English was still unfamiliar upon her Korean tongue. The black plume moved thoughtfully behind her as she took several steps forth into the darkness, allowing distance to remain. For a moment, she watched the prey animal hungrily, licking her maw and allowing the strong, hungering teeth to glint in the deep darkness before returning her attention the one who had interrupted her.

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