Return Upon the Silence of the Raven's Wings

Cwmfen nic Graine · 03-28-2012, 03:07 PM

[html]

Table by me (Req)

Thanks for your patience with me! And yes, let’s see how this plays out OuO
WC: 648

He spoke of his stupidity. White orbs flickered with a faint glimmer of some emotion that faded into the lunar glow of her gaze. A faint smile played upon her quiet lips and was gone. She responded with silence. At times silence was better than speaking. It was the true nature of the world, the Raven Dreamer found, and being closer to the wolf than the luperci, she had often chosen silence. Her life had walked upon a path of solitude, a beautiful, solitary path in which the Songs of the World and of War had guided her. Her soul followed it, bid on by the intangible hand of Nemain.

The stranger agreed to linger with her, and for now that pulchritudinous solitude was interrupted. He questioned, however, the peace within the woods that she had promised. That faint, almost imperceptible smile played once more across those lips. The woad glimmered in the moonlight and shadows as she moved into the darkness of the woods. For a moment she paused as if waiting for something more, and yet it was but her own voice that the silence awaited. The woad-banded maw turned back as her gaze sought him. The white eyes met his golden gaze easily and remained unwavered. “Peace does not chose who accepts it, but accepts all who are willing.” The silvered tones of the Warrior’s voice rang quietly upon the cool, nighttime air, floating to the male as if upon the wings of some astral bird. Had he forgotten his roots? Had he forgotten what it truly was to be Wolf? For a moment, the quiet smile seemed to brighten, a silent, almost mirthful laughter shining in her pale gaze. And then it was gone. As fleeting as a song bird, she had already turned and passed into the woods. Whether he truly followed now was not within her will but within his.

The Woad Warrior lead them into the darkness. Her steps were deliberate, and yet fluid and ethereal. With dancing feet she moved swiftly through the darkness, and yet seemed a spectre of death. The One-eyed Raven followed overhead, his shadow dampening the moonlight. The harsh voice called with its cold and empty craw, and yet those sounds resonated within the Raven Dreamer’s soul. And the dark blemish upon her bright soul seemed to draw in the tendrils of the night that gripped her heart with cold fingers. As from a bear trap, she could not escape it, and yet it seemed as if she belonged. Perhaps because of the Pie Wolf’s blood within her, or perhaps because of the path of War, death seemed becoming....

Ahead, the full moon lit a round break within the woods. The light was reflected within the cool waters of the pool at its center. The soft, bubbling laughter of the small creek joined the whispers of the trees as the creek filled the pool. This was a domain of Nemain, the face of the lunar hare reflected in the waters. She had been here before, the woad-decorated hare’s skull hanging from a low branch so that it barely touched the waters. Solid ground was plentiful enough that her training was able to occur. For the Raven Dreamer, it was a sacred place found far from Caledonia. The musical movements of the Warrior grew silent and still as she drew near the water’s edge. Turning, she looked upon the nameless stranger, her face peaceful and yet unreadable. A small movement of her woad-tipped tail bid him closer. “The waters of Nemain may clense your soul of your shadowed thoughts.” The Pied Raven crowed ahead as he landed upon the hare-skull branch, his claws grating against the wood. A woad bound ear swiveled to hear his voice before her attention was given to the stranger. She offered to him, a fellow warrior—or so it seemed—this place.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?