03-15-2009, 12:45 AM
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Hi~! I’ll probably be a little slow at replying; I feel like I have so many threads, ^=^;; And is Rath in his secui or optime form? 7’3” implies optime, but ‘hybrid’ implies secui. I just want to make sure. Cwmfen is in her optime form. OuO
500+
Time was ambiguous in the darkness, but the silent ticking continued nevertheless, ignorant of life and the earth it so surely eroded to Death. The dreary weather sang quietly in its darkened glory. The soft sound of the drizzle whispered the secrets of the earth. And when it rained the whispers vanished for the noise, replaced by a rhythmic beating of the life that flourished within the Dahlian boarders. And then, when there was nothing—silence. A soft silence that made deaf the ears with downy feathers. The world was calm and perfect even as it changed, perfect as it always was and would be. The songbirds sang along with that glorious grey melody, but fell silent often, as if they too recognized the natural beauty of which they were a part. And the wind sighed and the earth sighed. And the sun above the obscured heavens lay dormant mercifully as his rays slowly warmed the earth that turned from winter to spring.
Cwmfen listened to the song, standing amidst the trees and grasses of the Dahlian world. The warrior’s eyes were closed as she listened, and her maw was pointed to the darkened heavens, and her breathing was deep as if in a slumber. As if she Dreamed. Above her, the Raven, watching her with his single eye, wheeled with locked shoulders. And as she stood there, lithic and gripping her Raven Spear, it was as if the woad warrior had come out of the stories of old.
But the wind brought her a scent. It was unfamiliar, but already the mark of the pack was upon it. He must be a newcomer, and so the warrior, where she would have neglected to go if only to resist the urge to move her healing wounds, or perhaps to stay and listen longer to the tales of the auld earth. But this male whom she did not know required her attention, and so the white orbs opened, shining their own light in the ambiguous dark and light of the day. As she willed herself to move, the deep, slowly healing scars held tight, threatening as always to re-open. But she was slow as she threw her body in to motion, and the wounds silently relented, the ever failing pain falling back within her mind. And her traveling movements were quicker now, but she could not yet run nor trot, but keep that leisurely pace. But the warrior could be patient, and as she passed from the natural world into the slowly dying world of the remnants of man, she was able to observe, her quick, white eyes alert as if on the eve of battle.
The woad warrior did not frequent Wolfville often, and so the details were almost novel to her. But the warrior avoided the use of many human things (save for her weapons, of course) when she could. But the beauty of this place was present, for she saw the slow reclamation of the place by nature. And, of course, these human edifices were useful to the pack’s wolves if they sought to escape the rain. And it was when the female was observing such things that the scent became strong and finally the form came into view. She approached from behind, and her silent feet did not betray her. He was speaking, almost mumbling to himself, and the Adonis could not help but allow a light smile to grace her maw.
“If you desire to reduce the length, I can offer my assistance,” the alto melody sang with silver tones dancing upon the cool, damp air. She extended her arm, offering the blade of her spear to the male as the pied Raven crawed above them. Personally, the female did not mind his shaggy coat, preferring the unrefined styles of nature to anything else. “I am Cwmfen nic Graine,” the female introduced herself. She bowed, but the movement was cut short by the restrictions of that long scar upon her back.
Hi~! I’ll probably be a little slow at replying; I feel like I have so many threads, ^=^;; And is Rath in his secui or optime form? 7’3” implies optime, but ‘hybrid’ implies secui. I just want to make sure. Cwmfen is in her optime form. OuO
500+
Time was ambiguous in the darkness, but the silent ticking continued nevertheless, ignorant of life and the earth it so surely eroded to Death. The dreary weather sang quietly in its darkened glory. The soft sound of the drizzle whispered the secrets of the earth. And when it rained the whispers vanished for the noise, replaced by a rhythmic beating of the life that flourished within the Dahlian boarders. And then, when there was nothing—silence. A soft silence that made deaf the ears with downy feathers. The world was calm and perfect even as it changed, perfect as it always was and would be. The songbirds sang along with that glorious grey melody, but fell silent often, as if they too recognized the natural beauty of which they were a part. And the wind sighed and the earth sighed. And the sun above the obscured heavens lay dormant mercifully as his rays slowly warmed the earth that turned from winter to spring.
Cwmfen listened to the song, standing amidst the trees and grasses of the Dahlian world. The warrior’s eyes were closed as she listened, and her maw was pointed to the darkened heavens, and her breathing was deep as if in a slumber. As if she Dreamed. Above her, the Raven, watching her with his single eye, wheeled with locked shoulders. And as she stood there, lithic and gripping her Raven Spear, it was as if the woad warrior had come out of the stories of old.
But the wind brought her a scent. It was unfamiliar, but already the mark of the pack was upon it. He must be a newcomer, and so the warrior, where she would have neglected to go if only to resist the urge to move her healing wounds, or perhaps to stay and listen longer to the tales of the auld earth. But this male whom she did not know required her attention, and so the white orbs opened, shining their own light in the ambiguous dark and light of the day. As she willed herself to move, the deep, slowly healing scars held tight, threatening as always to re-open. But she was slow as she threw her body in to motion, and the wounds silently relented, the ever failing pain falling back within her mind. And her traveling movements were quicker now, but she could not yet run nor trot, but keep that leisurely pace. But the warrior could be patient, and as she passed from the natural world into the slowly dying world of the remnants of man, she was able to observe, her quick, white eyes alert as if on the eve of battle.
The woad warrior did not frequent Wolfville often, and so the details were almost novel to her. But the warrior avoided the use of many human things (save for her weapons, of course) when she could. But the beauty of this place was present, for she saw the slow reclamation of the place by nature. And, of course, these human edifices were useful to the pack’s wolves if they sought to escape the rain. And it was when the female was observing such things that the scent became strong and finally the form came into view. She approached from behind, and her silent feet did not betray her. He was speaking, almost mumbling to himself, and the Adonis could not help but allow a light smile to grace her maw.
“If you desire to reduce the length, I can offer my assistance,” the alto melody sang with silver tones dancing upon the cool, damp air. She extended her arm, offering the blade of her spear to the male as the pied Raven crawed above them. Personally, the female did not mind his shaggy coat, preferring the unrefined styles of nature to anything else. “I am Cwmfen nic Graine,” the female introduced herself. She bowed, but the movement was cut short by the restrictions of that long scar upon her back.