ooc:
The quiet was soothing, comforting as she leaned against her dear companion and drew strength from his presence. She was tired but not physically, mentally as her mind had overworked itself fabricating realities that felt far out of reach. Internally her reserved strength had drain almost completely, leaving her to sit as a shell of what she was, hollow...her foundations crumbling beneath. Desperately she clung to anything she could grasp. A warm touch, a gentle feeling, and she would go far to take what she could from this moment; a reminder that she was not alone this night.
Beneath her unruly fringe her eyes had slipped closed lulled by a gentle touch. Words softly spoken were heard but not yet acknowledged. Her mind drifted to and from this plain, following the soothing motions of an equally stricken soul. In the silence she mulled over his words, her posture another but startled by the question he posed. For as a child, she had asked the same thing. Barely into her first year...a travesty impacted her life that forced her to ask the same of her Shepard. But coupled with his admitted thoughts of love had...and lost, she opened her eyes again parting from the delicate embrace to look at him with sorrow in her eyes. She did not ask but the question was there in her eyes, staring deeply into his one good orb... then forced herself to look away. Unknowingly she had pulled herself from him, supported by her own forelimbs as she had turned. The cold caused her to recall this sudden action and without hesitation, she fell along his side again reclaiming her place if not pressing deeper against his side.
Recalling the words of her father, she recited them softly. "'Death is a blessing that allows us to join out ancestors and share our experiences with those we've left behind. It gives us the means to watch over and guide them, to help them through their journeys...'" A faint smile touched her lips at the memory of her father, but faded when the cause of her question returned with full clarity to her mind. "I had asked my father this question, why the ones we cared for had to die. Love was a concept we did not experience, but the bonds we forged were more profound than that. I bonded with many broods that were brought into the world. Cared for them, played with them... it felt unfair that they would die just as their eyes were open and their ears could hear. I asked my father why the ancestors would call the lives to young into their realm...and he said those words to me. They are a part of my belief... but at the time, I did not believe them.
"...but with time I had decided to adopt a new ideal about it. Something that I could accept."
But even said, X'yrin did not know if she could hold onto that belief any longer. For one that believed it was a means to become stronger, she had failed remarkable to make this so. The bonds she had now were fraying at their edges, literally unraveling before her eyes. "But what would I know..." scoffing at her own hypocritical way, she forced her head down in shame. "I have lost and yet I still linger in weakness...hoping for what will never come again rather than insuring that what I have will not tarnish."
.ooctable, .oocinfo {
background-image:none;
padding:10px;
line-height:12px;
margin:5px auto; width:85%;
background-color:#938d93;
border:1px solid #2d242d;
font-size:10px;
color:#2d242d;
border-radius:2px;
border-style: dashed;
-moz-border-radius:2px;
-webkit-border-radius:2px; }
.oocinfo {
font-size:10px;
width:250px;
margin:5px; }
</style>