03-11-2009, 03:24 PM
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500+
A frown had deepened upon his maw as she had spoken. As the white orbs met that yellow gaze, she thought she saw the depths of his desire, and those depths were great. But the female simply did not reciprocate that desire. The black fae’s mind wandered to the day she had encountered Brennt, several days before the coyote’s near fatal attack upon her. He had desired the same thing of her that Dutch desired of her now. She had tried to civilly, kindly, gently refuse. But, upon turning, he must have misread her intentions for he had attempted to mount her. And that situation had not ended well. Instead of a friend the warrior had made an enemy. It had been a pity, for he seemed like such a nice creature. It was that dullness, she thought, that she had seen in his eyes. The bruises that Brennt had given to her hips as he had attempted to mount were hidden and forgotten by the pains of these newer, fresher cuts. But she did not forget that lesson. She wondered now if the Felix would be so bold.
His words, quiet and firm, made the Adonis smile. “I believe you, Biler’a,” the female replied quietly, even if only because it would have been foolish for him to do otherwise to another pack member. “I do not mean to criticize the quality of your character. I only mean that you have not interested me in that way.” Perhaps he needed clarity. The warrior did not mean to offend the male, if she had, for she did not wish conflict or discomfort upon another packmember. But the male had been direct in his approach and request, and she had been direct in her refusal.
It seemed, then, that the yellow-eyed male had taken notice of her condition. She nodded to his first inquiry, then gave a curt, almost whispered, “Yes,” that she was fine. It was perhaps not quite true, and she was perhaps in more pain than she would liked to admit. But Cwmfen was a wolf and a warrior, and she did not allow herself to show great weakness before the other. She could endure pain, but at times the pain of these hurts was too great to endure without displaying her discomfort. She was glad that for now, that incessant throbbing ache was bearable, and she did not have to let this male know how susceptible to an attack she was. So far she was living and healing, and that was good enough for now.
“I’m glad that you have not taken offense to my refusal,” the alto melody replied with a light smile. “I had merely thought that, with your desires left unfulfilled, that you would leave to find it somewhere else or have to wait until someone came who could give it.” The white orbs watched as the male collapsed near her in the grass. “Are you staying to keep me company, Biler’a?” the warrior inquired. “You will not find much entertainment here, I’m afraid....”
A frown had deepened upon his maw as she had spoken. As the white orbs met that yellow gaze, she thought she saw the depths of his desire, and those depths were great. But the female simply did not reciprocate that desire. The black fae’s mind wandered to the day she had encountered Brennt, several days before the coyote’s near fatal attack upon her. He had desired the same thing of her that Dutch desired of her now. She had tried to civilly, kindly, gently refuse. But, upon turning, he must have misread her intentions for he had attempted to mount her. And that situation had not ended well. Instead of a friend the warrior had made an enemy. It had been a pity, for he seemed like such a nice creature. It was that dullness, she thought, that she had seen in his eyes. The bruises that Brennt had given to her hips as he had attempted to mount were hidden and forgotten by the pains of these newer, fresher cuts. But she did not forget that lesson. She wondered now if the Felix would be so bold.
His words, quiet and firm, made the Adonis smile. “I believe you, Biler’a,” the female replied quietly, even if only because it would have been foolish for him to do otherwise to another pack member. “I do not mean to criticize the quality of your character. I only mean that you have not interested me in that way.” Perhaps he needed clarity. The warrior did not mean to offend the male, if she had, for she did not wish conflict or discomfort upon another packmember. But the male had been direct in his approach and request, and she had been direct in her refusal.
It seemed, then, that the yellow-eyed male had taken notice of her condition. She nodded to his first inquiry, then gave a curt, almost whispered, “Yes,” that she was fine. It was perhaps not quite true, and she was perhaps in more pain than she would liked to admit. But Cwmfen was a wolf and a warrior, and she did not allow herself to show great weakness before the other. She could endure pain, but at times the pain of these hurts was too great to endure without displaying her discomfort. She was glad that for now, that incessant throbbing ache was bearable, and she did not have to let this male know how susceptible to an attack she was. So far she was living and healing, and that was good enough for now.
“I’m glad that you have not taken offense to my refusal,” the alto melody replied with a light smile. “I had merely thought that, with your desires left unfulfilled, that you would leave to find it somewhere else or have to wait until someone came who could give it.” The white orbs watched as the male collapsed near her in the grass. “Are you staying to keep me company, Biler’a?” the warrior inquired. “You will not find much entertainment here, I’m afraid....”