02-24-2009, 11:48 PM
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She's just in her lupus form, if that's okay, ^=^;
500+
Cwmfen’s mind lingered upon the events of the previous day. Perhaps she had been premature in her boldness with Svara. She knew that the girl’s state of mind was delicate, and that any shift in the equilibrium would have been dangerous. Perhaps the black fae had grown too trusting in the pack’s trust in her. Perhaps things simply didn’t work that way. And she had ruined the trust and respect that she had gained from Svara. Perhaps she would never regain it. But she would have to wait and see. While the warrior was lenient upon her beliefs, she did have her own set of ideals that ran her existence. She did not like it when females were weak. And Svara had played a weak game believing otherwise. Perhaps if the pup had known precisely what it was that she had done, the black warrior would have been indifferent. But that was not the case. The warrior was a powerful creature in mind and body—or believed herself to be—and she wished for the females of the pack in which she resided to be strong individuals. Most were, but not quite to their potential. At least that was what the warrior believed.
Sighing, the female accepted the events and turned her mind to the present and to the future. At the moment, she was alone, and, having donned the form of lupus, the woad marked female wandered the boarders of Dahlia de Mai. Her mind was once more the calm, placid waters of her quieted soul, and she did not hold that coldness which had characterized her voice those days before. Anger was a dangerous thing, but the female harbored it well. And, while her anger could be quick, her anger would swiftly subside. Her mind was equally as trained as her body, and she held the tranquility of that trained warrior of the ancients within her. And silently, as her graceful form glided in the shadows, the woad-marked female regarded the world with curious, white eyes.
It was then that something caught her attention. The light had just slipped beneath the horizon, submitting to the will of the moon and darkness. It was the feminine hour, and the dark warrior was accustom to this night. The woad markings and her white eyes were the only apparent characteristics of her form in the newly fallen darkness. But upon the wind she found a scent. And it was foreign and masculine. The woad warrior was curious now, and, with a quick look to the heavens (where her Dream drifted above her), the female changed her course. She thought she knew what this creature would want, for the Raven whispered silently of the stranger’s location. Of how he paced at their boarders and of how he sat, waiting, without a call. The female considered these silently as she found that dark blot of his form in the darkness.
Upon arriving, the female’s swift eyes took in the details of his character. He was silent and patient as he sat, and yet, there was something impatient about him. He was arrogant, she could see that clearly in his posture. But he believed himself to be something more. A knowing smile came lightly to her lips, and while her smile seemed lighthearted, she had already found that she was not fond of his particular personality. But it was disrespectful to judge so completely so early, for they had only just met, and so the female smiled to the male amiably as her silent steps ceased. The woad warrior did not sit, but remained as she was. Her posture was erected, and she did not hide her clearly dominant posture from him.
"Golden-eyed stranger," the alto melody greeted grandiosely, formally. There was no hostility or mockery in her smooth, pleasant voice, but there was a hardness in it. "How may I be of service?"
She's just in her lupus form, if that's okay, ^=^;
500+
Cwmfen’s mind lingered upon the events of the previous day. Perhaps she had been premature in her boldness with Svara. She knew that the girl’s state of mind was delicate, and that any shift in the equilibrium would have been dangerous. Perhaps the black fae had grown too trusting in the pack’s trust in her. Perhaps things simply didn’t work that way. And she had ruined the trust and respect that she had gained from Svara. Perhaps she would never regain it. But she would have to wait and see. While the warrior was lenient upon her beliefs, she did have her own set of ideals that ran her existence. She did not like it when females were weak. And Svara had played a weak game believing otherwise. Perhaps if the pup had known precisely what it was that she had done, the black warrior would have been indifferent. But that was not the case. The warrior was a powerful creature in mind and body—or believed herself to be—and she wished for the females of the pack in which she resided to be strong individuals. Most were, but not quite to their potential. At least that was what the warrior believed.
Sighing, the female accepted the events and turned her mind to the present and to the future. At the moment, she was alone, and, having donned the form of lupus, the woad marked female wandered the boarders of Dahlia de Mai. Her mind was once more the calm, placid waters of her quieted soul, and she did not hold that coldness which had characterized her voice those days before. Anger was a dangerous thing, but the female harbored it well. And, while her anger could be quick, her anger would swiftly subside. Her mind was equally as trained as her body, and she held the tranquility of that trained warrior of the ancients within her. And silently, as her graceful form glided in the shadows, the woad-marked female regarded the world with curious, white eyes.
It was then that something caught her attention. The light had just slipped beneath the horizon, submitting to the will of the moon and darkness. It was the feminine hour, and the dark warrior was accustom to this night. The woad markings and her white eyes were the only apparent characteristics of her form in the newly fallen darkness. But upon the wind she found a scent. And it was foreign and masculine. The woad warrior was curious now, and, with a quick look to the heavens (where her Dream drifted above her), the female changed her course. She thought she knew what this creature would want, for the Raven whispered silently of the stranger’s location. Of how he paced at their boarders and of how he sat, waiting, without a call. The female considered these silently as she found that dark blot of his form in the darkness.
Upon arriving, the female’s swift eyes took in the details of his character. He was silent and patient as he sat, and yet, there was something impatient about him. He was arrogant, she could see that clearly in his posture. But he believed himself to be something more. A knowing smile came lightly to her lips, and while her smile seemed lighthearted, she had already found that she was not fond of his particular personality. But it was disrespectful to judge so completely so early, for they had only just met, and so the female smiled to the male amiably as her silent steps ceased. The woad warrior did not sit, but remained as she was. Her posture was erected, and she did not hide her clearly dominant posture from him.
"Golden-eyed stranger," the alto melody greeted grandiosely, formally. There was no hostility or mockery in her smooth, pleasant voice, but there was a hardness in it. "How may I be of service?"