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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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Like a perpetual echo, her ears were still ringing but with words rather than sound. The voice of her Issum and the hurt laden within. Why he was upset with her was beyond her immediate comprehension, but with time from the later afternoon to the sunset, she had the opportunity to think on what had changed his mood. Of course it had been her that caused the change, her reluctance to address him as victor of their little demonstration and submit to the training he had to offer. So set in her ways she had refused outright and even now thought the idea of utilizing a weapon went against the unwritten code of her family. Weapons were a mark of weakness, a literal symbol that told others of the Nomads that their bodies were weak and needed assistance from something other to appear strong when they were truly lacking. Even away from the eyes of her family she held no desire to be looked upon as such. Rather strong and able in body. A commendable fighter recognized for the effective use of her body.
But that pride had come with a consequence and a painful one at that. Thankfully no lump had formed where she had been struck but it still felt as though something was sat along her cranium. When she was able, she changed her from to suit a more muscled physique and laid within her bed of furs in the hopes of sleeping the lingering pain away. Zeus tried to help her as best as he was able, licking her wounded head periodically as she had done to his back to heal. It was a sweet gesture returned with kind licks and a nurturing nose to the belly, but eventually she put the boy to bed and gave herself the remainder of the night to think and heal.
These disputes between the Issor and Issum were becoming more noticeable as the days wore on. They hadn't long reaffirmed their love before they were pitted against each other again, one dominant will trying to overtake the other. X'yrin couldn't count for a time she had been so insistent on conflict like this. For one that favored compromise it could hardly be said it was showing now. Irritable were her moods of late, driven by an unfulfilled urge that conveyed its disappointment in less than subtle ways. How much longer would she have to endure this? Would the agony that plagued her ever stop? Of course she knew it would eventually, but as the days rolled on, it felt never ending. And day by day she felt herself changing losing more of her civilized mind and falling deeper into instinct with mind more than willing to heed its call. And as she lay there awake with her head resting on her furs, she listened.
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