01-28-2009, 09:36 PM
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I hope it’s okay if she goes to the church?
500+
Cwmfen had lived within Dahlia de Mai for quite some time now—nearly six moons now. She felt that she had adjusted well to the pack life, more so than she had anticipated. The young woman thought that this might be so because she chose to live life solitarily. Recently, after her Long Nights, she had found herself a den and had settled permanently within the packlands. And, while she met with the members of Dahlia de Mai occasionally, she still chose to be alone. After the Long Nights, the solitude had become a burden, for she had been shown a different type of contact that instinct bade her follow. But now, as time passed, such thoughts faded away, for time was accustom to doing such things. Solitude was a part of her as much as fighting was, or breathing. She could not part paths with Solitude, and so she did not try. There was no need, she felt.
Yet, as time passed and as Dahlia grew in numbers, as Alexey and another returned, as Firefly gave birth, Cwmfen could not help but feel as if the tension within the Dahlian boarders was growing. She had felt it most acutely at the pack hunt, especially upon meeting the pup Svara. Perhaps the female was reading too much into things, as she often did, and perhaps the pup was merely troubled by the past. But she had found that many chose to hold on to such hurts, to allow such things to become a destructive force—to themselves and to those around them. She had heard that the pup dwelt now with Firefly and that the two often made appearances together. There was something unsettling about that. Cwmfen, as a wolf of discipline, could sense when Chaos was brewing, and she felt a warning tug at her.
Or perhaps she was merely mistaken.
Nevertheless, the woad warrior sought out the white Rosea. She felt now, as she had felt many times, that the duty of a Warrior was not merely to fight battles. A Warrior was a protector, and she felt as if she must be a paladin of this pack. As a neutral personality, she felt that she would find a middle way between the conflicts she saw arising. It was a dangerous thing, she felt, that stirred within these lands. Yet, perhaps there was nothing but a warning—a warning she felt she must heed. This was why she sought Cercelee. But she had also not seen the Dahlian leader very often since she had joined. The black female respected the other, and she felt she had allowed herself to stay away too long.
The she-wolf padded silently, finding herself in St. Pepin’s Vineyards. Having followed the scent of the Rosea, she did not doubt that she would find her here. The unseen trail took her to a church, though she could not recognize it for what it was. Pausing, she looked at the edifice before approaching the threshold. The warrior brought up her paw, clawing awkwardly at the closed door. "Cercelee?" she called quietly. The darkness of dusk made her voice silent, but it cut clearly through the stillness.
I hope it’s okay if she goes to the church?
500+
Cwmfen had lived within Dahlia de Mai for quite some time now—nearly six moons now. She felt that she had adjusted well to the pack life, more so than she had anticipated. The young woman thought that this might be so because she chose to live life solitarily. Recently, after her Long Nights, she had found herself a den and had settled permanently within the packlands. And, while she met with the members of Dahlia de Mai occasionally, she still chose to be alone. After the Long Nights, the solitude had become a burden, for she had been shown a different type of contact that instinct bade her follow. But now, as time passed, such thoughts faded away, for time was accustom to doing such things. Solitude was a part of her as much as fighting was, or breathing. She could not part paths with Solitude, and so she did not try. There was no need, she felt.
Yet, as time passed and as Dahlia grew in numbers, as Alexey and another returned, as Firefly gave birth, Cwmfen could not help but feel as if the tension within the Dahlian boarders was growing. She had felt it most acutely at the pack hunt, especially upon meeting the pup Svara. Perhaps the female was reading too much into things, as she often did, and perhaps the pup was merely troubled by the past. But she had found that many chose to hold on to such hurts, to allow such things to become a destructive force—to themselves and to those around them. She had heard that the pup dwelt now with Firefly and that the two often made appearances together. There was something unsettling about that. Cwmfen, as a wolf of discipline, could sense when Chaos was brewing, and she felt a warning tug at her.
Or perhaps she was merely mistaken.
Nevertheless, the woad warrior sought out the white Rosea. She felt now, as she had felt many times, that the duty of a Warrior was not merely to fight battles. A Warrior was a protector, and she felt as if she must be a paladin of this pack. As a neutral personality, she felt that she would find a middle way between the conflicts she saw arising. It was a dangerous thing, she felt, that stirred within these lands. Yet, perhaps there was nothing but a warning—a warning she felt she must heed. This was why she sought Cercelee. But she had also not seen the Dahlian leader very often since she had joined. The black female respected the other, and she felt she had allowed herself to stay away too long.
The she-wolf padded silently, finding herself in St. Pepin’s Vineyards. Having followed the scent of the Rosea, she did not doubt that she would find her here. The unseen trail took her to a church, though she could not recognize it for what it was. Pausing, she looked at the edifice before approaching the threshold. The warrior brought up her paw, clawing awkwardly at the closed door. "Cercelee?" she called quietly. The darkness of dusk made her voice silent, but it cut clearly through the stillness.