01-28-2009, 09:11 PM
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500+
Cwmfen loved the rain, especially in the winter. The icy tears of the weeping heavens were a tonic of disillusionment, and it was as if these rare waters of cleansing washed away the grime of her mind. Today, there was not much to be washed away, for she felt strangely enlightened. Perhaps it was because she had recently moved her body to the rhythms of war, but one could never be certain. At times, it was better not to know and to merely accept. Today, she accepted that. Instead of purging her soul, she listened to the rain. She found that she did this often, but there was only so much beauty she found in the world. So few things, and yet she cherished them deeply. In the silence that followed her own voice, she listened to the muted sound of the rainfall and to the clear sound of the rain song.
There seemed to be a response, though whether from the sound of her voice or merely from the rain, she was not certain. His movements were slow—perhaps she had disturbed a deep sleep. But at last his eyes seemed to focus and find her through the screen of the steady rainfall. The wind threw pulses of rain at her, but she moved only marginally against its rough hand. She heard his voice between the rain, and she answered punctually. "Yes.... I am Cwmfen nic Graine, Dahlia’s Head Warrior. I had heard that there was a newcomer among us, and I sought to meet him." Her voice, which could be loud, was loud now as she pushed her alto melody through the rain and wind like a knife. There was a brief pause before she continued. "I presume that you are he?" It was worded as a question, and it sounded like a question. But it was not a question. She knew very well that this golden wolf was the newcomer of which she had spoken. His scent, which she had caught briefly in the wind, was unfamiliar to her.
As the words left her woad-banded maw, lightning flashed across the heavens followed shortly by the rumbling of a distant thunder. The white orbs briefly watched the spectacle with a respect for these forces of nature before she returned her gaze to her packmate. He had spoken once more, and a brief smile flashed across her maw as she noted his lack of formality, but she did not judge him for it. She was aware that many wolves of present times were not as formal as she. So she overlooked his informal register and answered. "I was patrolling, I suppose...." A amiable smile crossed her maw. Or perhaps I was merely wandering. That was yet another thing she did often. She felt, however, that the protection of the pack was crucial. Yet, not readily trusting of all, the female wondered if the pack needed protection from some of the members themselves. Perhaps she would speak with Cercelee soon concerning this matter, but for now she was approaching this male, and she would let that matter rest.
The warrior stood motionless in the rain, and it seemed almost that it was letting up, that the world had grown calm. Though the male had not said it, the black fae thought that perhaps he was inviting her to join him. She was not particularly fond of human constructs, but to sit with him would be harmless, and so she finally moved, swiftly and fluidly, to place herself at his side. Immediately, her body missed the feeling of the rain. With a content sigh, however, she merely gazed out at the beautiful, natural world. Then she turned to glance at him. "How are you finding Dahlia?" She was curious about how he found life in this pack to be.
500+
Cwmfen loved the rain, especially in the winter. The icy tears of the weeping heavens were a tonic of disillusionment, and it was as if these rare waters of cleansing washed away the grime of her mind. Today, there was not much to be washed away, for she felt strangely enlightened. Perhaps it was because she had recently moved her body to the rhythms of war, but one could never be certain. At times, it was better not to know and to merely accept. Today, she accepted that. Instead of purging her soul, she listened to the rain. She found that she did this often, but there was only so much beauty she found in the world. So few things, and yet she cherished them deeply. In the silence that followed her own voice, she listened to the muted sound of the rainfall and to the clear sound of the rain song.
There seemed to be a response, though whether from the sound of her voice or merely from the rain, she was not certain. His movements were slow—perhaps she had disturbed a deep sleep. But at last his eyes seemed to focus and find her through the screen of the steady rainfall. The wind threw pulses of rain at her, but she moved only marginally against its rough hand. She heard his voice between the rain, and she answered punctually. "Yes.... I am Cwmfen nic Graine, Dahlia’s Head Warrior. I had heard that there was a newcomer among us, and I sought to meet him." Her voice, which could be loud, was loud now as she pushed her alto melody through the rain and wind like a knife. There was a brief pause before she continued. "I presume that you are he?" It was worded as a question, and it sounded like a question. But it was not a question. She knew very well that this golden wolf was the newcomer of which she had spoken. His scent, which she had caught briefly in the wind, was unfamiliar to her.
As the words left her woad-banded maw, lightning flashed across the heavens followed shortly by the rumbling of a distant thunder. The white orbs briefly watched the spectacle with a respect for these forces of nature before she returned her gaze to her packmate. He had spoken once more, and a brief smile flashed across her maw as she noted his lack of formality, but she did not judge him for it. She was aware that many wolves of present times were not as formal as she. So she overlooked his informal register and answered. "I was patrolling, I suppose...." A amiable smile crossed her maw. Or perhaps I was merely wandering. That was yet another thing she did often. She felt, however, that the protection of the pack was crucial. Yet, not readily trusting of all, the female wondered if the pack needed protection from some of the members themselves. Perhaps she would speak with Cercelee soon concerning this matter, but for now she was approaching this male, and she would let that matter rest.
The warrior stood motionless in the rain, and it seemed almost that it was letting up, that the world had grown calm. Though the male had not said it, the black fae thought that perhaps he was inviting her to join him. She was not particularly fond of human constructs, but to sit with him would be harmless, and so she finally moved, swiftly and fluidly, to place herself at his side. Immediately, her body missed the feeling of the rain. With a content sigh, however, she merely gazed out at the beautiful, natural world. Then she turned to glance at him. "How are you finding Dahlia?" She was curious about how he found life in this pack to be.