06-21-2009, 09:30 PM
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Ethereal Eclipse. Backdated to June 10th.
Oh, I left whether you wanted optime or lupus to you—he can be in secui if he wants, but she will not use that form.
500+
The forest was a place of darkness, and the darkness was dense here. It whispered quietly, its song barely audible and yet deafeningly loud for its silence. Like the darkness, the nighttime forest was cold. The night sighed as the sun was chased from the heavens, killed only to be reborn with the dawn. An owl called with its wise voice, speaking to the night and warning the prey. Animals scurried through the foliage, their little claws disrupting the still leaves of the plants that slept. Only the nocturnal blossoms had awaken with the nocturnal animals, and together they sang a different song than the unnatural dark of this forest. They sang of Life. Surely the crow wolf could not be here while such a song persisted. No, she would not find him tonight. Tonight, there was only the Night and only the Life.
The pied Raven crowed, it’s deep growl sudden. The black fae wandered in that place of darkness, comfortable and unafraid. The darkness was a thing of comfort for the woad warrior, for indeed she had been conceived of it, wrought of rape from the loins of the creature darkness himself. And it was that crow wolf himself that she sought. He had brought Death upon the boarders of her pack, and he had brought Death upon the life of Ril’o. For that the Caledonian Korean could no longer wait. She had doffed those constricting fetters of fear and pride, for it had been fear that had made her run and pride that had not allowed her to go to him. She knew that if she went to him, she would fail. She was a skilled warrior, to say the least, but still she was no match for her father. And so she had discarded that, going to face her fear without that pride that should no longer have existed within that enlightened warrior. Even if she were to die, even if she were doomed to the Fate of her mother, it would be to protect those around her. There would always be another to pick up her task. There would always be another to pick up the strings of a fallen life.
The edge of the forest ceased her movements. She stood there upon the boarder where the trees began and the world ended. Like a creature of the Dream world, she emerged from a place of nightmares with that ethereal fluidity and paused as if listening. She heard a different song here, and the cold air of the dark forests moved through her fur, playing with the soft scent of her skin. The white orbs, like two moons of a distant planet, scanned over the open lands. They fall lastly upon a shadowed, prone figure. The fur was white, and it seemed to sleep. The warrior of Dahlia de Mai took several steps forward, her woad bound ears pricked forward as she traveled with that silent fluidity. She did not speak but simply ceased once more at a distance in which she could reach out and touch him, for it was a male indeed that lay there, scarred with marks that were intentional and not of war.
Ethereal Eclipse. Backdated to June 10th.
Oh, I left whether you wanted optime or lupus to you—he can be in secui if he wants, but she will not use that form.
500+
The forest was a place of darkness, and the darkness was dense here. It whispered quietly, its song barely audible and yet deafeningly loud for its silence. Like the darkness, the nighttime forest was cold. The night sighed as the sun was chased from the heavens, killed only to be reborn with the dawn. An owl called with its wise voice, speaking to the night and warning the prey. Animals scurried through the foliage, their little claws disrupting the still leaves of the plants that slept. Only the nocturnal blossoms had awaken with the nocturnal animals, and together they sang a different song than the unnatural dark of this forest. They sang of Life. Surely the crow wolf could not be here while such a song persisted. No, she would not find him tonight. Tonight, there was only the Night and only the Life.
The pied Raven crowed, it’s deep growl sudden. The black fae wandered in that place of darkness, comfortable and unafraid. The darkness was a thing of comfort for the woad warrior, for indeed she had been conceived of it, wrought of rape from the loins of the creature darkness himself. And it was that crow wolf himself that she sought. He had brought Death upon the boarders of her pack, and he had brought Death upon the life of Ril’o. For that the Caledonian Korean could no longer wait. She had doffed those constricting fetters of fear and pride, for it had been fear that had made her run and pride that had not allowed her to go to him. She knew that if she went to him, she would fail. She was a skilled warrior, to say the least, but still she was no match for her father. And so she had discarded that, going to face her fear without that pride that should no longer have existed within that enlightened warrior. Even if she were to die, even if she were doomed to the Fate of her mother, it would be to protect those around her. There would always be another to pick up her task. There would always be another to pick up the strings of a fallen life.
The edge of the forest ceased her movements. She stood there upon the boarder where the trees began and the world ended. Like a creature of the Dream world, she emerged from a place of nightmares with that ethereal fluidity and paused as if listening. She heard a different song here, and the cold air of the dark forests moved through her fur, playing with the soft scent of her skin. The white orbs, like two moons of a distant planet, scanned over the open lands. They fall lastly upon a shadowed, prone figure. The fur was white, and it seemed to sleep. The warrior of Dahlia de Mai took several steps forward, her woad bound ears pricked forward as she traveled with that silent fluidity. She did not speak but simply ceased once more at a distance in which she could reach out and touch him, for it was a male indeed that lay there, scarred with marks that were intentional and not of war.