Return Upon the Silence of the Raven's Wings

Cwmfen nic Graine · 03-17-2012, 10:25 AM

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Table by me (Req)

No problem! And this table is old too… >u<
WC: 557

The eyes that held the light of the moon beheld the silent male. Her gaze flowed over the form that effortlessly towered over her. His hide held evidence of battles fought. The deepest of scars sung quietly to her, calling her attention and intrigue. Those white eyes slowly moved up along his silhouette to fall lastly upon his missing ear. A mild curiosity stirred within the woad-marked woman. The larger male was one who had fought enough to receive such significant scars. And yet she wondered if he were truly warrior, or simply one who had fought in defense or in rashness. The black furred woman found herself wondering who he was. She wondered if the Song of War thrummed in his soul as it did in hers, and she wondered at its quality. But she did not draw closer, nor did she make any movement or gesture to further increase her knowledge of the stranger. She might have passed by, leaving the unsated curiosity to remain until it was forgotten or time made it irrelevant. But it seemed as if a few more words would be exchanged between the two. The woad bound auds twitched slightly, shattering the stillness of her form.

“For that, I am relieved,” the silver toned melody replied. The quiet voice seemed to command the silence, and yet as the silvered tones grew still the silence was allowed to ensue. She might have moved closer in an amiable fashion, but she did not trust the stranger. It was difficult for the Caledonian-Korean to trust in others, for she understood the treachery of hearts too strongly ruled by emotion. While the dark woman had dulled her emotions, had hidden them far within the tight restraints of her will, she knew that, by the dark blemish upon her soul, she too was vulnerable to treachery. Her pure heart wished otherwise, but the blood in her veins she could not escape. The words of the stranger that followed caused her thoughts to pause. It was as if he believed her to be more than mere flesh and blood. Perhaps it was within the light of Nemain that she appeared so…different to him. “I am a mere mortal,” the quiet voice replied humbly, her gaze falling to the shadowed earth before the white eyes lifted to meet the gaze of the stranger. “Nothing more.”

“What solace you seek for deeds done, I cannot give.” Her quiet lips were still, offering neither a smile nor a frown. Expressionless features left her thoughts a mystery as she stood motionless before him. The soft breeze of night moved gently through her fur, tendrils exploring the woad in her fur and caressing the sinewy form with cold fingers. The One-eyed Raven crawed above them, his empty voice echoing in mockery above them. She wondered at his words—why was it enough to see her before he departed? She did not know him. They did not share a pack. She was not a figure of history but a mere pawn of Nemain moving through the world to fulfill her doom. The Woad Warrior was at a loss for words, unable to find the right ones. While she felt that she was inadequate for his current desire of solace, she did not yet move to depart, held fast by that mild curiosity.

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