03-08-2009, 06:12 PM
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500+
Warrior woman. The female replied with nothing save for her gold and silver laughter that danced and whispered in the dark. With a sigh, a silence fell once more, and somehow this silence was always filled with a warmth, and the female was content as she lay against the hybrid.
“Even love is a kind of warfare,” the black, woad marked female replied with a fierce smile and a quiet laughter. But she knew that she may be alone on that thought. But the trust, the courting, the fights, and the betrayal, they were all things of war as well. Love was simply a different battlefield, and with that view she could approach the matter. If love were purely social, the female would not stand a chance. But, because she did see it as war, the odds were lessened. Yet, it was still a thing with which she was unfamiliar. It may have been a thing that she did not desire. At times, society was her greatest enclosure, her greatest challenge. Often she found herself trapped within its walls, but she had found ways to lessen the discomfort, and perhaps she would suffer solitude for it.
But love...for her that battlefield could have no victor. Physically and mentally, both participants must be matched equally. It was only in that way that their union could be permitted to occur. And yet, as the female, the warrior knew that it was inevitable that a male would conquer her in such a union, for it was the nature of love making, of nature itself. For that reason, the female was always critical and careful of who she permitted entrance. Love was mental, but the physical aspects of such an entity cannot be ignored. Love was a human thing. Desire and lust were bestial. And, despite her civilized mind, the warrior was first and foremost a wolf, that creature of basic instinct.
Then, as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud, the male was speaking. The white orbs turned up to look into the orbs that held within them a raging sea, and she that she saw a flash of lightning from that storm. That spark? The female’s heart quickened only slightly, and her quiet breath wavered. She looked away, slowly, from those troubled eyes. “Yes,” she breathed at length, “but not impossible.” And her voice seemed to hold something strange, as if she were painfully contending with something that she had seen or felt. The female shifted her body slightly, as if to mask the true meaning of such a sound for the discomfort of her cold muscles.
The silence that followed was great and vast, as if a sea had been opened. At length, the female forced herself to turn to face him. But he spoke at last, breaking the silence. She understood this to be the source of his pain, for the wound of the heart healed slowly, if it ever truly healed. The white orbs met the gaze that had remained upon her, and she tried to peer into that dark and stormy soul. “If there is one love, I have not seen it. Such wounds cannot heal,” the woad warrior replied quietly. “But perhaps the company of a friend may may lessen it.” The white orbs searched the face of the male as she reigned herself in, holding herself at a distance.
Warrior woman. The female replied with nothing save for her gold and silver laughter that danced and whispered in the dark. With a sigh, a silence fell once more, and somehow this silence was always filled with a warmth, and the female was content as she lay against the hybrid.
“Even love is a kind of warfare,” the black, woad marked female replied with a fierce smile and a quiet laughter. But she knew that she may be alone on that thought. But the trust, the courting, the fights, and the betrayal, they were all things of war as well. Love was simply a different battlefield, and with that view she could approach the matter. If love were purely social, the female would not stand a chance. But, because she did see it as war, the odds were lessened. Yet, it was still a thing with which she was unfamiliar. It may have been a thing that she did not desire. At times, society was her greatest enclosure, her greatest challenge. Often she found herself trapped within its walls, but she had found ways to lessen the discomfort, and perhaps she would suffer solitude for it.
But love...for her that battlefield could have no victor. Physically and mentally, both participants must be matched equally. It was only in that way that their union could be permitted to occur. And yet, as the female, the warrior knew that it was inevitable that a male would conquer her in such a union, for it was the nature of love making, of nature itself. For that reason, the female was always critical and careful of who she permitted entrance. Love was mental, but the physical aspects of such an entity cannot be ignored. Love was a human thing. Desire and lust were bestial. And, despite her civilized mind, the warrior was first and foremost a wolf, that creature of basic instinct.
Then, as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud, the male was speaking. The white orbs turned up to look into the orbs that held within them a raging sea, and she that she saw a flash of lightning from that storm. That spark? The female’s heart quickened only slightly, and her quiet breath wavered. She looked away, slowly, from those troubled eyes. “Yes,” she breathed at length, “but not impossible.” And her voice seemed to hold something strange, as if she were painfully contending with something that she had seen or felt. The female shifted her body slightly, as if to mask the true meaning of such a sound for the discomfort of her cold muscles.
The silence that followed was great and vast, as if a sea had been opened. At length, the female forced herself to turn to face him. But he spoke at last, breaking the silence. She understood this to be the source of his pain, for the wound of the heart healed slowly, if it ever truly healed. The white orbs met the gaze that had remained upon her, and she tried to peer into that dark and stormy soul. “If there is one love, I have not seen it. Such wounds cannot heal,” the woad warrior replied quietly. “But perhaps the company of a friend may may lessen it.” The white orbs searched the face of the male as she reigned herself in, holding herself at a distance.