06-17-2009, 01:04 AM
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500+
The woman felt a gratitude for his patient work upon her. He was thorough and his touch was gentle. He was gentle as he always was with her. The sting of the liquid with the strong scent became an incessant drone upon her skin. She faded in and out of consciousness, but that shallow breathing never seemed to change, retaining that faint rhythm that would have been extinguished had he not arrived. His voice broke softly through her heavy mind, his touch upon her leg so gentle that it could have been the touch of a cool spring breeze. When he cleaned it, however, she flinched, her body jumping at his touch. Her eyes were opened, looking up at the ceiling as she clenched her jaws, struggling to keep her body still. But it was not his touch from which she recoiled. She recoiled from the memory of her father’s brutal body against hers. A breathed whine escaped her as he finished, the warrior’s body relaxing but left more drained than it had been.
She fell into darkness once more and pulled herself out, watching with her failing vision as he cleansed his own wounds. Slowly, silently, the woman wondered how much he had been injured. He had poured the liquid upon his arms and shoulders. The warrior thought that her father would have returned to the older wound upon his neck. As she struggled to form the thoughts that worried for the coyote, her consciousness once more fell into darkness. Onus had returned to her side and was speaking to her once more. Her mind held on to his voice, for he was the only one that she had. Her body was tired, and her skin twitched only occasionally as he worked upon her leg. As he moved to her neck, holding her, she turned her head into his hand, closing her eyes at the quiet emotion that moved through her. She breathed in his scent but could not open her eyes anymore. Against he sharp pain that was so near to her mind, she breathed him in, feeling his touch and his warmth and was at peace.
He bandaged her and brought her water once more. The white orbs sought his eyes briefly before weariness forced them shut. Her mind did not get pulled into the darkness, however. She listened without sight to the male’s quiet movement. The woad warrior felt safe here with him, able to put her mind to rest. Her mind faded into the darkness once more as he dressed his own wounds. She should have been able to help him, she thought, because he had given her so much and had not thanked him, had now shown him how much of a difference he had made. She had caused him only grief, and she had had only weakness with which to hinder him. She didn’t know how long or short the Dreamless sleep had been, but it had returned to her at least a marginal amount of strength that would last for but a moment. Her eyes lifted, and she sought him, a quiet sadness within them, like the sadness one has when they are dying. But she was not dying.... Her had moved several inches across the bed as she reached out to him, but her movement was restricted by the protesting of her wounded body. The sharp pain caused her to shut her eyes against it, robbing her of the strength she had wanted to call to him.
500+
The woman felt a gratitude for his patient work upon her. He was thorough and his touch was gentle. He was gentle as he always was with her. The sting of the liquid with the strong scent became an incessant drone upon her skin. She faded in and out of consciousness, but that shallow breathing never seemed to change, retaining that faint rhythm that would have been extinguished had he not arrived. His voice broke softly through her heavy mind, his touch upon her leg so gentle that it could have been the touch of a cool spring breeze. When he cleaned it, however, she flinched, her body jumping at his touch. Her eyes were opened, looking up at the ceiling as she clenched her jaws, struggling to keep her body still. But it was not his touch from which she recoiled. She recoiled from the memory of her father’s brutal body against hers. A breathed whine escaped her as he finished, the warrior’s body relaxing but left more drained than it had been.
She fell into darkness once more and pulled herself out, watching with her failing vision as he cleansed his own wounds. Slowly, silently, the woman wondered how much he had been injured. He had poured the liquid upon his arms and shoulders. The warrior thought that her father would have returned to the older wound upon his neck. As she struggled to form the thoughts that worried for the coyote, her consciousness once more fell into darkness. Onus had returned to her side and was speaking to her once more. Her mind held on to his voice, for he was the only one that she had. Her body was tired, and her skin twitched only occasionally as he worked upon her leg. As he moved to her neck, holding her, she turned her head into his hand, closing her eyes at the quiet emotion that moved through her. She breathed in his scent but could not open her eyes anymore. Against he sharp pain that was so near to her mind, she breathed him in, feeling his touch and his warmth and was at peace.
He bandaged her and brought her water once more. The white orbs sought his eyes briefly before weariness forced them shut. Her mind did not get pulled into the darkness, however. She listened without sight to the male’s quiet movement. The woad warrior felt safe here with him, able to put her mind to rest. Her mind faded into the darkness once more as he dressed his own wounds. She should have been able to help him, she thought, because he had given her so much and had not thanked him, had now shown him how much of a difference he had made. She had caused him only grief, and she had had only weakness with which to hinder him. She didn’t know how long or short the Dreamless sleep had been, but it had returned to her at least a marginal amount of strength that would last for but a moment. Her eyes lifted, and she sought him, a quiet sadness within them, like the sadness one has when they are dying. But she was not dying.... Her had moved several inches across the bed as she reached out to him, but her movement was restricted by the protesting of her wounded body. The sharp pain caused her to shut her eyes against it, robbing her of the strength she had wanted to call to him.