01-19-2009, 08:25 PM
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Is he in luperci form? I wasn’t sure so I have Cwmfen in lupus.
500+
The snow was falling once more. There was a strange silence in the woods that seemed to only precede such peaceful snowfall. There was the silent sound of the sucking wind, as if the world itself struggled to breath in the winter season. The snow fell only to smother the world, and yet this natural death was beautiful. The earth sighed, sending swirling tendrils that disrupted the path of the snowflakes. But that breath shuddered and fell still once more, leaving the land in silence. On this particular day, the creatures of the wood fell silent, as if to listen with fear and acceptance to this dying of their world, for they knew that spring would come if only they had a little patience. The Wild may have wished to smother the life of the world, but life was persistent with its will to survive. It would only need that patience.
Cwmfen lay within the shadows of the Sugarwoods, away from Dahlia once more. With her eyes closed, she listened to that silence, to the barely audible song that the world whispered to her. Her breathing was almost silent in her hearing, for she struggled now to listen to that beautiful song. Somewhere she heard a flaw, a disruption, and her eyes were forced open. The black lids lifted slowly, and when they relinquished the sight to the world, the eyes were not looking, for they were locked upon the white earth before them. The woad-marked ears listened now, but they could hear nothing near by. Reluctantly, the she-wolf lifted her head to gaze momentarily, breathlessly, upon the heavens from which that simple whiteness fell. Then she rose with a single fluid motion and shook the snow from her coat. Above the pied Raven crawed twice, breaking the silence with its whip like voice. The warrior acknowledged the Dream with her mind before her paws carried her in silence toward the origin of the song’s discrepancy.
The wolf’s legs carried her lithe, toned body easily through the cold. Her breathing was leveled, untroubled by the movement of her body. A rhythmic expulsion of that soft cloud of breath was seen as she trotted like quicksilver through the winter woods. The woad warrior’s maw twitched occasionally as she tasted the air, seeking something or someone nearby. Having come upon several human edifices, the woad-marked female ceased, turning her white gaze to the trees ahead, for she found something there. Peering through the snow and cold and distance, she found the form of a male, one indistinguishable from coyote and wolf. His coat was grey, but blue also, and she saw the gold glint dully in the poor light. His eyes were closed, and there was an air of despair about him, of frustration and disappointment. Softly, the earth sighed, gently carrying his faint scent to her. She found that she recognized it, though there was a different scent lingering in it. Like a distant memory, she placed a name with that scent, and remembered what her packmember had told her of him and of Phoenix Valley.
"DaVinci...?" The alto melody called quietly to him, her voice brushing tentatively against his ears as if afraid to shatter the stillness in his body.
Is he in luperci form? I wasn’t sure so I have Cwmfen in lupus.
500+
The snow was falling once more. There was a strange silence in the woods that seemed to only precede such peaceful snowfall. There was the silent sound of the sucking wind, as if the world itself struggled to breath in the winter season. The snow fell only to smother the world, and yet this natural death was beautiful. The earth sighed, sending swirling tendrils that disrupted the path of the snowflakes. But that breath shuddered and fell still once more, leaving the land in silence. On this particular day, the creatures of the wood fell silent, as if to listen with fear and acceptance to this dying of their world, for they knew that spring would come if only they had a little patience. The Wild may have wished to smother the life of the world, but life was persistent with its will to survive. It would only need that patience.
Cwmfen lay within the shadows of the Sugarwoods, away from Dahlia once more. With her eyes closed, she listened to that silence, to the barely audible song that the world whispered to her. Her breathing was almost silent in her hearing, for she struggled now to listen to that beautiful song. Somewhere she heard a flaw, a disruption, and her eyes were forced open. The black lids lifted slowly, and when they relinquished the sight to the world, the eyes were not looking, for they were locked upon the white earth before them. The woad-marked ears listened now, but they could hear nothing near by. Reluctantly, the she-wolf lifted her head to gaze momentarily, breathlessly, upon the heavens from which that simple whiteness fell. Then she rose with a single fluid motion and shook the snow from her coat. Above the pied Raven crawed twice, breaking the silence with its whip like voice. The warrior acknowledged the Dream with her mind before her paws carried her in silence toward the origin of the song’s discrepancy.
The wolf’s legs carried her lithe, toned body easily through the cold. Her breathing was leveled, untroubled by the movement of her body. A rhythmic expulsion of that soft cloud of breath was seen as she trotted like quicksilver through the winter woods. The woad warrior’s maw twitched occasionally as she tasted the air, seeking something or someone nearby. Having come upon several human edifices, the woad-marked female ceased, turning her white gaze to the trees ahead, for she found something there. Peering through the snow and cold and distance, she found the form of a male, one indistinguishable from coyote and wolf. His coat was grey, but blue also, and she saw the gold glint dully in the poor light. His eyes were closed, and there was an air of despair about him, of frustration and disappointment. Softly, the earth sighed, gently carrying his faint scent to her. She found that she recognized it, though there was a different scent lingering in it. Like a distant memory, she placed a name with that scent, and remembered what her packmember had told her of him and of Phoenix Valley.
"DaVinci...?" The alto melody called quietly to him, her voice brushing tentatively against his ears as if afraid to shatter the stillness in his body.