04-17-2009, 12:50 AM
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500+
The tension that existed in her subconscious was expelled when he did not react, at least negatively, to her declared faith. A soft wave of relief was felt by the dark woman, though she tried not to show this. Yet, the woad marked fae was not sure how much her emotions would be worn openly within her eyes, for she was not sure how much the walls of control, however natural they were, had shuddered and fallen. Whatever the case may have been with her self (and how she so disliked such weakness within herself), the woman was relieved for the man’s open soul, for his reason that so many others had seemed to lack. And yet, for that she could not yet see him fully now, for there were many things within the way of seeing that soul; the woman did not pry, but the white orbs did seek the depths of those oceanic orbs with a quiet, curious gaze and a gentle push. But it was dark in there, and she had not yet found what it was that would become alight and enlighten her.
And then he leaned back, offering her a reply. It was simple, and a soft smile tugged at her lips as she turned her gaze to her hands. Of course it would be so. And her gaze remained so until he spoke again. The woad bound ears pushed forward as her faint smile grew a bit stronger. "Cwmfen nic Graine," the soft voice almost whispered. While the woman had wondered at the male’s name, the issue had not been overly pressing. She had known who he was, perhaps more intimately than any other creature. A name would not have changed that, and the wolf did not require one. But it would matter, she decided now.... It was strange, as if names did matter. The warrior wondered how, but she felt that it were so. The white orbs lingered now upon the man’s face and was comforted. The alto melody did not ask his name in return, as if suddenly she did not know how to keep a name.
The woman shifted, her left hand reaching out to touch softly, tentatively, the blanket upon her lap. The clear gaze considered it for a moment as her hand felt the warm fabric. She had seen others using it—like a second pelt, she decided. But now that it was before her, she was not sure how to use it. The woman struggled with the concept for a moment even as she felt the coldness of the air (which may not have been cold at all) push into her fur and stroke her skin with the intimacy that reminded her of cold Death. And when the fingers gripped the fabric, bringing it closer to her chest, it unfolded. Suddenly understanding, the female brought it over her body before falling back against the couch again. Looking up, the male suddenly seemed so far. "This world is so foreign to me...." The soft melody spoke abruptly, almost randomly, as if she thought that her voice might draw him nearer. But the mind liked to play such games, especially when weariness and pain tugged at the edges of reality.
500+
The tension that existed in her subconscious was expelled when he did not react, at least negatively, to her declared faith. A soft wave of relief was felt by the dark woman, though she tried not to show this. Yet, the woad marked fae was not sure how much her emotions would be worn openly within her eyes, for she was not sure how much the walls of control, however natural they were, had shuddered and fallen. Whatever the case may have been with her self (and how she so disliked such weakness within herself), the woman was relieved for the man’s open soul, for his reason that so many others had seemed to lack. And yet, for that she could not yet see him fully now, for there were many things within the way of seeing that soul; the woman did not pry, but the white orbs did seek the depths of those oceanic orbs with a quiet, curious gaze and a gentle push. But it was dark in there, and she had not yet found what it was that would become alight and enlighten her.
And then he leaned back, offering her a reply. It was simple, and a soft smile tugged at her lips as she turned her gaze to her hands. Of course it would be so. And her gaze remained so until he spoke again. The woad bound ears pushed forward as her faint smile grew a bit stronger. "Cwmfen nic Graine," the soft voice almost whispered. While the woman had wondered at the male’s name, the issue had not been overly pressing. She had known who he was, perhaps more intimately than any other creature. A name would not have changed that, and the wolf did not require one. But it would matter, she decided now.... It was strange, as if names did matter. The warrior wondered how, but she felt that it were so. The white orbs lingered now upon the man’s face and was comforted. The alto melody did not ask his name in return, as if suddenly she did not know how to keep a name.
The woman shifted, her left hand reaching out to touch softly, tentatively, the blanket upon her lap. The clear gaze considered it for a moment as her hand felt the warm fabric. She had seen others using it—like a second pelt, she decided. But now that it was before her, she was not sure how to use it. The woman struggled with the concept for a moment even as she felt the coldness of the air (which may not have been cold at all) push into her fur and stroke her skin with the intimacy that reminded her of cold Death. And when the fingers gripped the fabric, bringing it closer to her chest, it unfolded. Suddenly understanding, the female brought it over her body before falling back against the couch again. Looking up, the male suddenly seemed so far. "This world is so foreign to me...." The soft melody spoke abruptly, almost randomly, as if she thought that her voice might draw him nearer. But the mind liked to play such games, especially when weariness and pain tugged at the edges of reality.