09-05-2009, 08:49 AM
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500+
She had not seen such things often, nor had she seen such things in action before. They had a celerity, the warrior decided, and a power to break and crush any unfortunate enough to fall within the metal jaws. But, while these jaws lay within the earth, they did not belong to the earth. The Adonis had heard that such things had been placed upon their boarders by one of lavender scent, and she had not entirely believed that such jaws could exist. Yet, seeing them now, she knew that they did. But they were not alive and would only require caution to avoid misfortune. Her mind had considered the possibility that Svara had been responsible for such a thing; the warrior remembered their last encounter, the loud scent of the flower upon the other. And yet, as she saw these jaws, she did not think that such a thing characterized the red-hued girl. Perhaps, when she would be able to continue upon her duty, she would investigate the matter deeply.
The woad-banded ears swiveled, lifting to catch the deliberate rustle that sounded near the boarders. She heard him first, and then she smelled him. "Ezekiel." The soft melody called his name, rising on the air like the seed to be sewn within the earth. The white orbs lifted, finding the golden form of the Inferni Prince emerging from the trees and foliage. Her voice had perhaps held a faint not of surprise, for surely she would not have thought to find him at the Dahlian boarders. And while she should have been wary, she knew that Ezekiel was no enemy of her. The woad-marked warrior took a single step forward, dipping her maw in respectful greeting. The golden boy was of an enemy pack, but, at least for that moment, he was not an enemy. It could be said that a gladness moved through her, flickering there in her eyes like a faint, distant light. She had not seen the boy in many moons, had not sparred nor trained with him for perhaps longer. Once more, the black fae became keenly aware of the extent to which she had been idle.
Proud and humble. She stood there, yet neither amiably nor belligerently, her posture elegantly erected, the woad tipped tail waving once in its lifted state as if she were thoughtful. "What are you doing here?" It was a query that left her tongue at every such encounter. It was a simple question, and yet it was the answer that mattered. It was the answer that would reveal much beyond the mere words that would be spoken. Trouble was trouble. Hostility was hostility. She would deal with such situations regardless of the perpetrator and the relationship that was held with them. The Adonis did not discriminate between situations, and she could easily place that line before her without regret, without entirely understanding that, in this society, such dutiful action was not without consequence of the personal relationship. She had seen it once, regretted it once, but once was enough and she knew that, with Onus, such a thing would likely not happen again. Of course, she did not rule out the possibility of it happening, unable to think in such absolutes. She did not wish for that rift to be rendered once more, but what would happen, would happen. And what would fix, would fix. Already, love, it seemed, had made them inseparable—at least in soul.
500+
She had not seen such things often, nor had she seen such things in action before. They had a celerity, the warrior decided, and a power to break and crush any unfortunate enough to fall within the metal jaws. But, while these jaws lay within the earth, they did not belong to the earth. The Adonis had heard that such things had been placed upon their boarders by one of lavender scent, and she had not entirely believed that such jaws could exist. Yet, seeing them now, she knew that they did. But they were not alive and would only require caution to avoid misfortune. Her mind had considered the possibility that Svara had been responsible for such a thing; the warrior remembered their last encounter, the loud scent of the flower upon the other. And yet, as she saw these jaws, she did not think that such a thing characterized the red-hued girl. Perhaps, when she would be able to continue upon her duty, she would investigate the matter deeply.
The woad-banded ears swiveled, lifting to catch the deliberate rustle that sounded near the boarders. She heard him first, and then she smelled him. "Ezekiel." The soft melody called his name, rising on the air like the seed to be sewn within the earth. The white orbs lifted, finding the golden form of the Inferni Prince emerging from the trees and foliage. Her voice had perhaps held a faint not of surprise, for surely she would not have thought to find him at the Dahlian boarders. And while she should have been wary, she knew that Ezekiel was no enemy of her. The woad-marked warrior took a single step forward, dipping her maw in respectful greeting. The golden boy was of an enemy pack, but, at least for that moment, he was not an enemy. It could be said that a gladness moved through her, flickering there in her eyes like a faint, distant light. She had not seen the boy in many moons, had not sparred nor trained with him for perhaps longer. Once more, the black fae became keenly aware of the extent to which she had been idle.
Proud and humble. She stood there, yet neither amiably nor belligerently, her posture elegantly erected, the woad tipped tail waving once in its lifted state as if she were thoughtful. "What are you doing here?" It was a query that left her tongue at every such encounter. It was a simple question, and yet it was the answer that mattered. It was the answer that would reveal much beyond the mere words that would be spoken. Trouble was trouble. Hostility was hostility. She would deal with such situations regardless of the perpetrator and the relationship that was held with them. The Adonis did not discriminate between situations, and she could easily place that line before her without regret, without entirely understanding that, in this society, such dutiful action was not without consequence of the personal relationship. She had seen it once, regretted it once, but once was enough and she knew that, with Onus, such a thing would likely not happen again. Of course, she did not rule out the possibility of it happening, unable to think in such absolutes. She did not wish for that rift to be rendered once more, but what would happen, would happen. And what would fix, would fix. Already, love, it seemed, had made them inseparable—at least in soul.