08-05-2009, 04:11 PM
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Don’t worry about it! ^=^
500+
The chemicles that had been awaken within her because of the pregnancy heightened her aggression, her hostility. And the natural belligerence that had first allowed her success upon the warrior’s path was easily kindled, a hot and yet controlled fire. And yet, for the tranquility that characterized the black fae, such unfamiliar belligerence may have been a wildfire. The fire flickered dangerously within her, the danger within the one who crossed her path, for the Spear was raised and hungry. The necessity of protecting herself and the lives that grew as weed within her was strong as was her instinct, and, had she not had such self control, she would have attacked and killed instantly, without thought and, later, without regret. But the warrior’s mind new that one must look first, and so the white orbs, clouded by her ferocity, looked upon the white girl without recognition.
‘Cwmfen.’
"Catalyst," the quiet melody responded, the wound-banded aurals recognizing now the voice and the scent and, finally, the face. Slowly, as the ferocity fell away like the dew from a leaf, her stance straightened, relinquishing the belligerent pose for a more amiable one—or, at least, a relaxed one. The Raven Spear grew quiet as she shifted her grip upon the decorated shaft, lowering to her side. The white orbs looked upon the shifted girl, noting that much time had passed since Ril’o’s passing and, perhaps, since the night nearly two moons ago. "What are you doing here?" The voice was quiet as she spoke, a mild curiosity moving through those white orbs. Perhaps such an query was needless, for this forest belonged to all within the pack and then to nature still. The black fae herself owned nothing within those lands save for the singular den that lay beneath the protection of the great oak that stood sentinel over her.
"How have you fared?" The question was given to the air with a strange and tentative song. The black fae did not forget what the young pup had seen, how afraid she had been. Nor did she forget their first encounter and the tolerable and promising mind that she had seen. But what would Death have shown the girl? The response had not been favorable of one to take the path of war, but one could never know. And still, the girl’s promise was of many things. Perhaps she would seek the way of the herbalist, for Dahlia lacked dearly that skill. But perhaps another would come along that would be able to aid those in need. Perhaps Catalyst had come because she herself had been ready, but, once more, the warrior could not know these things. She knew only that Catalyst now shared her company, and she knew that nothing happened by Chance.
The Raven Spear was leaned against the tree where it lay dormant and with patience. "I hope you don’t mind if I sit," the warrior continued quietly, slowly lowering herself to a comfortable position. Silently, she took the rabbit’s corpse and began to skin it, the quiet hunger growing more apparent within her. "Are you hungry?"
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500+
The chemicles that had been awaken within her because of the pregnancy heightened her aggression, her hostility. And the natural belligerence that had first allowed her success upon the warrior’s path was easily kindled, a hot and yet controlled fire. And yet, for the tranquility that characterized the black fae, such unfamiliar belligerence may have been a wildfire. The fire flickered dangerously within her, the danger within the one who crossed her path, for the Spear was raised and hungry. The necessity of protecting herself and the lives that grew as weed within her was strong as was her instinct, and, had she not had such self control, she would have attacked and killed instantly, without thought and, later, without regret. But the warrior’s mind new that one must look first, and so the white orbs, clouded by her ferocity, looked upon the white girl without recognition.
‘Cwmfen.’
"Catalyst," the quiet melody responded, the wound-banded aurals recognizing now the voice and the scent and, finally, the face. Slowly, as the ferocity fell away like the dew from a leaf, her stance straightened, relinquishing the belligerent pose for a more amiable one—or, at least, a relaxed one. The Raven Spear grew quiet as she shifted her grip upon the decorated shaft, lowering to her side. The white orbs looked upon the shifted girl, noting that much time had passed since Ril’o’s passing and, perhaps, since the night nearly two moons ago. "What are you doing here?" The voice was quiet as she spoke, a mild curiosity moving through those white orbs. Perhaps such an query was needless, for this forest belonged to all within the pack and then to nature still. The black fae herself owned nothing within those lands save for the singular den that lay beneath the protection of the great oak that stood sentinel over her.
"How have you fared?" The question was given to the air with a strange and tentative song. The black fae did not forget what the young pup had seen, how afraid she had been. Nor did she forget their first encounter and the tolerable and promising mind that she had seen. But what would Death have shown the girl? The response had not been favorable of one to take the path of war, but one could never know. And still, the girl’s promise was of many things. Perhaps she would seek the way of the herbalist, for Dahlia lacked dearly that skill. But perhaps another would come along that would be able to aid those in need. Perhaps Catalyst had come because she herself had been ready, but, once more, the warrior could not know these things. She knew only that Catalyst now shared her company, and she knew that nothing happened by Chance.
The Raven Spear was leaned against the tree where it lay dormant and with patience. "I hope you don’t mind if I sit," the warrior continued quietly, slowly lowering herself to a comfortable position. Silently, she took the rabbit’s corpse and began to skin it, the quiet hunger growing more apparent within her. "Are you hungry?"