08-05-2009, 12:48 PM
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Sorry about the wait!! And for the crap, too, >n<
500+
Toys? This word was definitely familiar, but, for a moment, the warrior could not recall its meaning. But as the large carpenter continued, the woman realized the meaning of the word. Toys—things with which young creatures played. It was like the strange toy that was soft—not made of wood—and in the likeness of a bear; Boo was its name, and the toy had been bestowed upon her by a white, scarred dog. I must return it to one that needs it, the warrior thought, for the bear should go to the one that was loved by the white, scarred dog. The white orbs lifted, breaking from her thoughts, so that she met the gooseberry gaze. Once more, the woman had never truly known the concept of a ‘toy’, but the suggestion did seem more suitable. The toys would be for her pups, and the warrior was at ease to think that Henratha thought of her pups, for she was not accustom to thinking of herself. And she was not accustom to accepting gifts from others.
"Toys for the pups," she repeated aloud. In her mind, she did not know that there were so many things that could be considered toys, but she trusted that Henratha knew what a ‘toy’ looked like. A light smile of thanks flickered within those white orbs as the woman shifted, the shoe of the Raven Spear carving the earth without malice. "They will need a distraction," she agreed with a short nod. And the warrior hoped that her pups would not be so misbehaved as those she had observed from afar, for it was also for such demeanors that the black fae did not carry a fondness for such small creatures. And perhaps she, too, would require a rest from mental exhaustion, but she’d always be present until her presence was no longer required. "I do believe that my pups will play with your toys," the quiet melody agreed. She would rather have a gift to give to others than to herself.
"I’m afraid that I have nothing to offer in return," the soft, Caledonian lilt said at length. Nothing save for my duties as Warrior to this pack, she thought, and wondered if that simple thing could be enough. And yet, now, with the bearing of the lives within her, she could do not even that. Such a thing made the warrior restless, but unlike the mere pains of wounds, she could not for a moment shrug off the presence of the forming and growing litter. The woad warrior, however, was accustom to being patient, and so patiently she would wait knowing that her life would be limited. Perhaps, she thought briefly, the litter would be old enough by the coming of the month of Samhain, but the black fae could not be sure. The wind’s gentle fingers tugged at the twin feathers at her mane and Spear, the soft song pulling her from her thoughts. "Perhaps, one day, I will be able to return your favor." A faint, apologetic smile moved across the black wolf’s quiet lips.
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500+
Toys? This word was definitely familiar, but, for a moment, the warrior could not recall its meaning. But as the large carpenter continued, the woman realized the meaning of the word. Toys—things with which young creatures played. It was like the strange toy that was soft—not made of wood—and in the likeness of a bear; Boo was its name, and the toy had been bestowed upon her by a white, scarred dog. I must return it to one that needs it, the warrior thought, for the bear should go to the one that was loved by the white, scarred dog. The white orbs lifted, breaking from her thoughts, so that she met the gooseberry gaze. Once more, the woman had never truly known the concept of a ‘toy’, but the suggestion did seem more suitable. The toys would be for her pups, and the warrior was at ease to think that Henratha thought of her pups, for she was not accustom to thinking of herself. And she was not accustom to accepting gifts from others.
"Toys for the pups," she repeated aloud. In her mind, she did not know that there were so many things that could be considered toys, but she trusted that Henratha knew what a ‘toy’ looked like. A light smile of thanks flickered within those white orbs as the woman shifted, the shoe of the Raven Spear carving the earth without malice. "They will need a distraction," she agreed with a short nod. And the warrior hoped that her pups would not be so misbehaved as those she had observed from afar, for it was also for such demeanors that the black fae did not carry a fondness for such small creatures. And perhaps she, too, would require a rest from mental exhaustion, but she’d always be present until her presence was no longer required. "I do believe that my pups will play with your toys," the quiet melody agreed. She would rather have a gift to give to others than to herself.
"I’m afraid that I have nothing to offer in return," the soft, Caledonian lilt said at length. Nothing save for my duties as Warrior to this pack, she thought, and wondered if that simple thing could be enough. And yet, now, with the bearing of the lives within her, she could do not even that. Such a thing made the warrior restless, but unlike the mere pains of wounds, she could not for a moment shrug off the presence of the forming and growing litter. The woad warrior, however, was accustom to being patient, and so patiently she would wait knowing that her life would be limited. Perhaps, she thought briefly, the litter would be old enough by the coming of the month of Samhain, but the black fae could not be sure. The wind’s gentle fingers tugged at the twin feathers at her mane and Spear, the soft song pulling her from her thoughts. "Perhaps, one day, I will be able to return your favor." A faint, apologetic smile moved across the black wolf’s quiet lips.