04-11-2009, 11:23 PM
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Are they shifted? I’ll play it as if Cwmfen were in their optime form. ^=^;;
500+
Cwmfen carried walked silently, carrying the Raven Spear loosely within her hands. She was deep in thought, dwelling upon the events of the past several weeks. It had not been a good several weeks for the warrior, and she did not think that it would be getting any better, either. And she wondered at her gods, and especially her goddess, and she wondered why it had been written this way—Fate, that is. Why was if Fated that the life paths of Corvus and herself should cross again? For several moments (and for the past days) the warrior had struggled with that concept and that idea, but still she could not know. It was the same as the Fate of Bane and Cwmfen: they’re paths had crossed many times, but for what purpose, even she could not yet know. Only her guesses could be permitted, and they were not likely the true intentions of the Gods. At least for now the woad marked fae was safe within these boarders, for the crow-wolf had not yet crossed or approached the boarders of Dahlia de Mai. But she knew that it would not yet be long before something would happen, and so she must act before then.
The woman was snapped from her thoughts as the soft breeze brought to her the scent of one unfamiliar. The warrior’s ears flicked irritably as she paused, scenting that scent and assessing its proximity. And it seemed to the warrior as if this scent had come from somewhere near, from somewhere within the boarders of the pack. And immediately the black fae recalled the Russian boy Nikolai, who had also wandered within the pack boarders. That boy would ever stand within the warrior’s mind as the prime example of idiocy. The warrior had little tolerance for disrespect, and to cross the boarders was to disrespect the pack and thus ever individual that resided within those boarders. So the warrior changed her course, redirecting herself to confront whoever it was that may have been wandering too far within a territory that should not have been.
The Raven crawed noisily as the warrior beneath him traveled as silently as the shadows about her. The Spear’s point was lifted in the air, its blade hungry as it moved. Its song sang quietly and remotely, humming through the warrior’s fingers and through the warrior’s soul. And that trained weapon found the wanderer, and the warrior, the white eyes fierce, barred the other’s path with that Raven blade as her swift traveling came to an abrupt halt. "What are you doing beyond the boarders?" The alto melody sang quietly and, though holding that tranquility of enlightened warriors, bit the air with its ferocity. The warrior could be a timid creature, and she could be kind. But she had little tolerance for such things. Briefly the white orbs flickered over the held carcass before returning to the other’s eyes, the blade brushing against the junction of the neck and shoulders in warning.
Are they shifted? I’ll play it as if Cwmfen were in their optime form. ^=^;;
500+
Cwmfen carried walked silently, carrying the Raven Spear loosely within her hands. She was deep in thought, dwelling upon the events of the past several weeks. It had not been a good several weeks for the warrior, and she did not think that it would be getting any better, either. And she wondered at her gods, and especially her goddess, and she wondered why it had been written this way—Fate, that is. Why was if Fated that the life paths of Corvus and herself should cross again? For several moments (and for the past days) the warrior had struggled with that concept and that idea, but still she could not know. It was the same as the Fate of Bane and Cwmfen: they’re paths had crossed many times, but for what purpose, even she could not yet know. Only her guesses could be permitted, and they were not likely the true intentions of the Gods. At least for now the woad marked fae was safe within these boarders, for the crow-wolf had not yet crossed or approached the boarders of Dahlia de Mai. But she knew that it would not yet be long before something would happen, and so she must act before then.
The woman was snapped from her thoughts as the soft breeze brought to her the scent of one unfamiliar. The warrior’s ears flicked irritably as she paused, scenting that scent and assessing its proximity. And it seemed to the warrior as if this scent had come from somewhere near, from somewhere within the boarders of the pack. And immediately the black fae recalled the Russian boy Nikolai, who had also wandered within the pack boarders. That boy would ever stand within the warrior’s mind as the prime example of idiocy. The warrior had little tolerance for disrespect, and to cross the boarders was to disrespect the pack and thus ever individual that resided within those boarders. So the warrior changed her course, redirecting herself to confront whoever it was that may have been wandering too far within a territory that should not have been.
The Raven crawed noisily as the warrior beneath him traveled as silently as the shadows about her. The Spear’s point was lifted in the air, its blade hungry as it moved. Its song sang quietly and remotely, humming through the warrior’s fingers and through the warrior’s soul. And that trained weapon found the wanderer, and the warrior, the white eyes fierce, barred the other’s path with that Raven blade as her swift traveling came to an abrupt halt. "What are you doing beyond the boarders?" The alto melody sang quietly and, though holding that tranquility of enlightened warriors, bit the air with its ferocity. The warrior could be a timid creature, and she could be kind. But she had little tolerance for such things. Briefly the white orbs flickered over the held carcass before returning to the other’s eyes, the blade brushing against the junction of the neck and shoulders in warning.