06-14-2009, 12:59 AM
[html]
http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... rncopy.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
In lupus or optime form? I leave it up to you, and I left it ambiguous in my post, ^=^
500+
The warrior traveled alone. She carried no weapon and was burdened only by the feather within her hair. Earlier that morning, the Raven had accompanied her, flying over head with those wings that could carry the souls of the Dead. But now he was gone, disappeared once more to some place she did not go. Only the sky was above her, bright and blue and clear, holding those white, buoyant clouds that moved slowly in the cool breeze. The woad bound ears were lifted, swiveling occasionally as she hunted for the ones that continued to elude her. Her movements fluid and graceful, she passed silently through a path that she had taken once long ago upon a snowy night to a pack that, then, had been newly formed. And she had met someone there, and they had spoken about love. Then, love had been unfamiliar, an irrelevant, unattainable thing that she did not require. But now, even as she hunted for them, even as she fought and was wounded, her heart beat only for that love.
The scent of Crimson Dreams lingered upon the wind. The black warrior paused, lifting her maw to the wind as she smelled the air. And she remembered the news that Savina of Crimson Dreams had brought several weeks ago. It was disquieting to the Dahlian Adonis to hear such news. The warrior was disappointed in the behavior of Tokyo Chance. Disrespect was the thing that the warrior disliked most of all, and her pack member had committed a great disrespect upon another pack. Savina was one of the leaders of that pack, but it was not of her own troubles of which she brought news. It had been her daughter that had been subject to Tokyo’s inexcusable behavior. It was strange that the female wolf in question was always found troubling the pups. She had been dealt with accordingly, for a pup was vulnerable and, despite the trouble they may have caused, a pup did not deserve to be attacked by an adult. It was dangerous to provoke another pack these days, and the warrior felt that tensions were high these days—or was that simply her own tension?
The warrior lingered there at the boarders, her graceful movements having been ceased. Those white orbs looked out quietly over the lands of the Crimson Dreams pack. The sun shone brightly as it broke through the white clouds, illuminating her eyes that shone now as would a white stone, as if they were not completely, solidly white, but transparent as well—translucent. A soft sigh escaped the woman. Her enemies were elusive. Every day and night she left her den to search for them, and every they escaped her. For once in her life, the wolf of nature could not find the beauty in the day. She could not find the beauty in the sun or the sky or the wind or the earth. Her mind lingered briefly upon another, upon one she loved. But he was far, and she kept that distance. She had Dreamed a dream, and she must see it through. The Fates had carved her path, and she had to follow it, she had to conquer it. Onus had given her that one night, that last night, and she must not return to him until that battle had been fought. But it made her heart shudder in her breast, and the world, even this bright, beautiful day, was dark.
In lupus or optime form? I leave it up to you, and I left it ambiguous in my post, ^=^
500+
The warrior traveled alone. She carried no weapon and was burdened only by the feather within her hair. Earlier that morning, the Raven had accompanied her, flying over head with those wings that could carry the souls of the Dead. But now he was gone, disappeared once more to some place she did not go. Only the sky was above her, bright and blue and clear, holding those white, buoyant clouds that moved slowly in the cool breeze. The woad bound ears were lifted, swiveling occasionally as she hunted for the ones that continued to elude her. Her movements fluid and graceful, she passed silently through a path that she had taken once long ago upon a snowy night to a pack that, then, had been newly formed. And she had met someone there, and they had spoken about love. Then, love had been unfamiliar, an irrelevant, unattainable thing that she did not require. But now, even as she hunted for them, even as she fought and was wounded, her heart beat only for that love.
The scent of Crimson Dreams lingered upon the wind. The black warrior paused, lifting her maw to the wind as she smelled the air. And she remembered the news that Savina of Crimson Dreams had brought several weeks ago. It was disquieting to the Dahlian Adonis to hear such news. The warrior was disappointed in the behavior of Tokyo Chance. Disrespect was the thing that the warrior disliked most of all, and her pack member had committed a great disrespect upon another pack. Savina was one of the leaders of that pack, but it was not of her own troubles of which she brought news. It had been her daughter that had been subject to Tokyo’s inexcusable behavior. It was strange that the female wolf in question was always found troubling the pups. She had been dealt with accordingly, for a pup was vulnerable and, despite the trouble they may have caused, a pup did not deserve to be attacked by an adult. It was dangerous to provoke another pack these days, and the warrior felt that tensions were high these days—or was that simply her own tension?
The warrior lingered there at the boarders, her graceful movements having been ceased. Those white orbs looked out quietly over the lands of the Crimson Dreams pack. The sun shone brightly as it broke through the white clouds, illuminating her eyes that shone now as would a white stone, as if they were not completely, solidly white, but transparent as well—translucent. A soft sigh escaped the woman. Her enemies were elusive. Every day and night she left her den to search for them, and every they escaped her. For once in her life, the wolf of nature could not find the beauty in the day. She could not find the beauty in the sun or the sky or the wind or the earth. Her mind lingered briefly upon another, upon one she loved. But he was far, and she kept that distance. She had Dreamed a dream, and she must see it through. The Fates had carved her path, and she had to follow it, she had to conquer it. Onus had given her that one night, that last night, and she must not return to him until that battle had been fought. But it made her heart shudder in her breast, and the world, even this bright, beautiful day, was dark.