04-04-2009, 11:55 PM
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The 25th then, ^=^ He attacked her sometime in midday. And I loved your post, n___n
700+
For a moment, it was as if her body were foreign to her; the warmth that now flickered in her core, strengthened by every beat of her heart, had replaced the hand of Death, which existed only as a distant memory and an inevitable fate. But her mind was still swimming as she resurfaced from that deathly slumber, the memories of the attack that she had left behind, having fell into that unconsciousness, replayed before her, the sounds echoing in her ears. It was as if her mind struggled to fill the empty blackness between her defeat and the moment in which she now resided. So, for a moment, her body tensed instinctively and her breathing quickened with both the effort of the movement and the preparation for the next attack. And when the woad bound ears heard a movement at her flank, when the white orbs finally began to focus and see the reality of the situation, she turned suddenly to face he who approached, a snarl silently tugging at her woad bound maw.
It was the sound of his voice that quieted the chaos of her soul. In an instant her mind was quiet and the memories fell away. And although she had heard that voice only once before, although she should not have trusted him so easily, she believed him. The black fae did not recoil or shudder at his touch, but welcomed it, silently obeying the urging press of his hand. Quite suddenly, as if invoked by the memory of that touch, she remembered the winter night she had first encountered him, when she had first lain with him, intertwined in that strange but ancient ritual. But that memory too faded as she lay upon that hard surface. The white orbs looked up to find those blue orbs that so reminded her of the sea, and she wondered why these things had happened and what hand of Fate had brought him to her when she had so required the aid of another. Beneath the strange emptiness and intensity of that gaze, she was silent, almost uncertain, hesitant for once in her life. Saftety and protection, he had said.... And somehow, she felt it were so.
You don’t need to worry about anything. The words seemed to bring the full force of her own weakness upon her. She gave a soft sigh, a shuddering sound that was quite unfamiliar to her. Closing her eyes for a moment, the warrior merely nodded. But she could find no words for the male. She had never felt so vulnerable as she did now. And though she had discerned that what he said was true, though he had taken her into his refuge, she could not help but feel that she was subject to any and all of his wishes and intents, whatever they may be. As she breathed, she scented no fresh blood, and her eyes opened as her left hand went immediately to her back, the woad bound fingers tentatively searching the wound there. She knew that it had been that wound that had been most deeply cut by the attacker’s claws, but now the wound was closed, dry but tender. And she did not recognize the pattern of her skin or how it had been closed. She only knew that the wound was closed, and that would be enough for now.
She tried to speak then, but for a moment, the dryness in her throat held her vocal cords still. She swallowed carefully and patiently before she tried again. "How...did you find me?" The alto melody was quiet and almost hoarse as she spoke quietly. The white orbs sought the blue eyes before the crossed over the rest of his features. She remembered seeing those eyes before the darkness had taken her, and she wondered suddenly how he taken her from there, how he had made her attacker relinquish the prize of his victory. She thought she could see cuts upon the other, but she was not sure if they were fresh. For a moment, she shut her eyes again against the effort saying, "You have not been wounded...?" Then, sensing that he lingered there and almost fearing that he would leave her, her hand shot out to grab his wrist, her grip weak and unbinding. The wounded warrior was silent, as if unsure of what to do next. The woad marked fae relaxed, letting her hand slip as she stared off into the depths of the house. "Where are we?"
The 25th then, ^=^ He attacked her sometime in midday. And I loved your post, n___n
700+
For a moment, it was as if her body were foreign to her; the warmth that now flickered in her core, strengthened by every beat of her heart, had replaced the hand of Death, which existed only as a distant memory and an inevitable fate. But her mind was still swimming as she resurfaced from that deathly slumber, the memories of the attack that she had left behind, having fell into that unconsciousness, replayed before her, the sounds echoing in her ears. It was as if her mind struggled to fill the empty blackness between her defeat and the moment in which she now resided. So, for a moment, her body tensed instinctively and her breathing quickened with both the effort of the movement and the preparation for the next attack. And when the woad bound ears heard a movement at her flank, when the white orbs finally began to focus and see the reality of the situation, she turned suddenly to face he who approached, a snarl silently tugging at her woad bound maw.
It was the sound of his voice that quieted the chaos of her soul. In an instant her mind was quiet and the memories fell away. And although she had heard that voice only once before, although she should not have trusted him so easily, she believed him. The black fae did not recoil or shudder at his touch, but welcomed it, silently obeying the urging press of his hand. Quite suddenly, as if invoked by the memory of that touch, she remembered the winter night she had first encountered him, when she had first lain with him, intertwined in that strange but ancient ritual. But that memory too faded as she lay upon that hard surface. The white orbs looked up to find those blue orbs that so reminded her of the sea, and she wondered why these things had happened and what hand of Fate had brought him to her when she had so required the aid of another. Beneath the strange emptiness and intensity of that gaze, she was silent, almost uncertain, hesitant for once in her life. Saftety and protection, he had said.... And somehow, she felt it were so.
You don’t need to worry about anything. The words seemed to bring the full force of her own weakness upon her. She gave a soft sigh, a shuddering sound that was quite unfamiliar to her. Closing her eyes for a moment, the warrior merely nodded. But she could find no words for the male. She had never felt so vulnerable as she did now. And though she had discerned that what he said was true, though he had taken her into his refuge, she could not help but feel that she was subject to any and all of his wishes and intents, whatever they may be. As she breathed, she scented no fresh blood, and her eyes opened as her left hand went immediately to her back, the woad bound fingers tentatively searching the wound there. She knew that it had been that wound that had been most deeply cut by the attacker’s claws, but now the wound was closed, dry but tender. And she did not recognize the pattern of her skin or how it had been closed. She only knew that the wound was closed, and that would be enough for now.
She tried to speak then, but for a moment, the dryness in her throat held her vocal cords still. She swallowed carefully and patiently before she tried again. "How...did you find me?" The alto melody was quiet and almost hoarse as she spoke quietly. The white orbs sought the blue eyes before the crossed over the rest of his features. She remembered seeing those eyes before the darkness had taken her, and she wondered suddenly how he taken her from there, how he had made her attacker relinquish the prize of his victory. She thought she could see cuts upon the other, but she was not sure if they were fresh. For a moment, she shut her eyes again against the effort saying, "You have not been wounded...?" Then, sensing that he lingered there and almost fearing that he would leave her, her hand shot out to grab his wrist, her grip weak and unbinding. The wounded warrior was silent, as if unsure of what to do next. The woad marked fae relaxed, letting her hand slip as she stared off into the depths of the house. "Where are we?"