04-06-2009, 05:57 PM
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
The warrior’s ears pricked forward at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, and she recognized it, labeling it to be of the male she sought. Turning her head, the warrior found him emerging from the trees. He seemed to be saying more than a simple refusal. It was as if he were there to block her passage, to stop her from proceeding. The black fae wondered if he had marked this as his own, for she would not violate that barrier. And so the woad marked body ceased, stopping at the sound of his voice. She was silent as he spoke again, and she believed that he was giving her a warning. The white orbs flickered across the other’s maw, noting the danger in that small quiver. If she lingered too long, those jaws might seek her again, might tear into her newly healed wounds. Would she lose again? But the warrior was accustom to taking risks, and she would put herself in danger of that risk for her packmate. The white orbs returned to the yellow eyes. They were somehow different, and yet the same. The silence that lingered upon her lips drew out a moment longer.
"I’m sorry for what happened before," the female responded quietly, the alto melody sincere. "I don’t hate you...." And she knew that she was not lying. Hate was such a powerful thing to feel, as powerful as love, if not more so. And she was not even sure how to handle hate—she could not yet grasp love. But perhaps she had not been clear with the male before, and she had not been desiring such contact. It had simply not been the right way for the male to approach her. And again, she was not here to play, necessarily. She was here to speak with him on more diplomatic matters. It was a topic that the female did not find enjoyable. She was a silent creature that loved war. Her life was more physical and intellectual than verbal. The warrior could go for an eternity with her silence, but she could also speak. And she had to speak now.
Perhaps the grey male would relax if she showed him that she was not here to attack. The female slowly lowered herself upon the earth so that she was laying, her head lifted to watch the male carefully. It was a dangerous position to be placing herself, but it may have been a necessary one. "I’m not here to attack unless you force me to, Brennt," the soft voice continued, utilizing his name to grasp his attention. She paused to allow him time to adjust, to assess his reaction. If he were not going to allow her to stay, he would attack soon. But for now, she did not make a move to rise or act. "I hear you have attacked one of my packmates—a black female with purple eyes and a white spot upon her chest." Her voice paused again. Did he remember? Did he recall? She was sure that it had been him; she had scented him upon the Stormbringer woman’s fur.
500+
The warrior’s ears pricked forward at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, and she recognized it, labeling it to be of the male she sought. Turning her head, the warrior found him emerging from the trees. He seemed to be saying more than a simple refusal. It was as if he were there to block her passage, to stop her from proceeding. The black fae wondered if he had marked this as his own, for she would not violate that barrier. And so the woad marked body ceased, stopping at the sound of his voice. She was silent as he spoke again, and she believed that he was giving her a warning. The white orbs flickered across the other’s maw, noting the danger in that small quiver. If she lingered too long, those jaws might seek her again, might tear into her newly healed wounds. Would she lose again? But the warrior was accustom to taking risks, and she would put herself in danger of that risk for her packmate. The white orbs returned to the yellow eyes. They were somehow different, and yet the same. The silence that lingered upon her lips drew out a moment longer.
"I’m sorry for what happened before," the female responded quietly, the alto melody sincere. "I don’t hate you...." And she knew that she was not lying. Hate was such a powerful thing to feel, as powerful as love, if not more so. And she was not even sure how to handle hate—she could not yet grasp love. But perhaps she had not been clear with the male before, and she had not been desiring such contact. It had simply not been the right way for the male to approach her. And again, she was not here to play, necessarily. She was here to speak with him on more diplomatic matters. It was a topic that the female did not find enjoyable. She was a silent creature that loved war. Her life was more physical and intellectual than verbal. The warrior could go for an eternity with her silence, but she could also speak. And she had to speak now.
Perhaps the grey male would relax if she showed him that she was not here to attack. The female slowly lowered herself upon the earth so that she was laying, her head lifted to watch the male carefully. It was a dangerous position to be placing herself, but it may have been a necessary one. "I’m not here to attack unless you force me to, Brennt," the soft voice continued, utilizing his name to grasp his attention. She paused to allow him time to adjust, to assess his reaction. If he were not going to allow her to stay, he would attack soon. But for now, she did not make a move to rise or act. "I hear you have attacked one of my packmates—a black female with purple eyes and a white spot upon her chest." Her voice paused again. Did he remember? Did he recall? She was sure that it had been him; she had scented him upon the Stormbringer woman’s fur.