Return Upon the Silence of the Raven's Wings

Cwmfen nic Graine · 03-23-2012, 12:31 PM

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Table by me (Req)

Sorry for the wait! My pace is really slow now that I’m back at school >n<

Yeah… Hahah! That’s okay… Let’s see where it goes within the next few posts, and if we want to we can plot something out. OuO How does that sound?
WC: 670

The Raven Dreamer’s woad banded ears drank in the male’s heavy words. For a moment, in the silence, she considered those words carefully, weighing them. White orbs followed the path his larger hands created, falling lastly upon that missing ear. The wound must have been recent for the tenderness it caused within him. She was once again made curious, and wished also to explore the place where the appendage had been. Like all scars, this wound would have a story. The Warrior was interested in the tales of fighters, wondering always how training and battles changed the landscape of the body and mind. Within the male, defeat had caused the feeling of failure. The white orbs that shone in the half-light returned to the other’s gaze as if finding something familiar there. She watched him slowly, the silence alive to the Raven Dreamer with songs of the night and the slow thrum of her own soul. “The death of a chapter is but a birth of another,” the melody sang quietly. She did not tell him that apology was unnecessary, for the words were already spoken. She offered, instead, those quiet words to him. Yet it seemed that she spoke to herself.

Her thoughts lingered upon her own inner Darkness, of the Darkness that seemed imminent for the blood that ran within her veins. Not only was she drawn to the Darkness within others, but she was drawn strongly to the Darkness of the Crow Wolf. Despite what he had taken forcibly from her, a strange desire flickered there within the pit of her being. White orbs lifted, the quiet thoughts falling back into the fathomless depths of her gaze. Her impassive, simple features, adorned by the belligerent Woad, flickered with something—but it was gone before it could be discerned. He had named her a beauty. The Woad Warrior did not know how to respond to such a thing, for beauty had never been a factor in her training. The black woman was silent, her stillness allowing her form to become one with the Darkness as if the Darkness itself wished to devour her ethereal form. What would you do now, having encountered it?“” A curiosity. The silver tones were quiet, a mere ruffle in the cool, nighttime breeze. Now that he had encountered such ‘unexpected’ beauty, would it change anything? Males, for all their strength, seemed perturbed by beauty. And yet, she herself was perturbed by the strength of males. As a fae creature, her strength would not surpass that of the larger strangers, but with technique and training, power could be generated beyond mere strength.

But the male made as if to leave, and the Warrior, for all her social inadequacies, rose from her pulchritudinous solitude. The woad-bound hand reached out to him, drawing close enough to feel the warmth of the lifeblood beneath his coat. And yet she did not touch him. Her hand withdrew and fell placidly at her side. “You need not yet depart,” the quiet melody offered, although it felt somehow like a command. “Your mood lingers in the spiritual world,” the song continued. “Perhaps you could find a small measure of peace before your new chapter begins.” The dark fae turned, her movements as fluid and as strangely wonderful as quicksilver. The woad painted woman moved into the darkness of the woods, the blue tipped tail carving a sinuous path as she beckoned him to follow. She did not know what this stranger sought, but she was compelled—by the hand of Nemain, perhaps—to aid the stricken fighter. Perhaps she would be able to understand the stranger, to know him through battle one day. But for now the quiet Solace of Peace was required more urgently than the Fury of War.

Nemain’s white face was high within the dark heavens, and the deep pools would reflect the light, becoming the domain of Nemain. It would be a spiritual place, and perhaps a Warrior or two could cleanse their souls of weakness.

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