09-10-2009, 08:33 AM
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Sorry about the wait!
500+
The words that were spoken by the golden coyote did not suggest hostility, nor did it hold mendacious intent. The warrior listened to his voice, to his breathing, to the world about him, and she could hear it. She had sensed upon their last meeting a tentative darkness caused, perhaps, by the attack of the crow wolf, or perhaps by other events of which she was not a part. And the woad-bound ears lifted as if hearing something more, or as f she tried to hear something more. She listened for what the silence would say, but the silence was often limited by the will of the other to give such a thing. Her own silence gave very little. Her eyes gave very little. Content that he would not cause trouble with Dahlia, at least within her presence, the Raven Warrior stepped forth to surpass the limits of the boarder. But she did not recline, preferring to stand within the quiet song of the woods.
A soft smile touched the woad-bound maw, illuminating the quiet lips. Conor, too, had come to visit. It was a peculiar thing to the warrior. But it seemed as if the golden coyote did not come without a why or a reason. Slightly, imperceptibly, the black fae’s head tilted in question. "What was troubling you, Ezekiel?" The voice was quiet as it sang upon the quiet air with tones of silver and chords of gold. His words implied that he no longer was, but she wondered still what it was that caused such worry, and what it was that moved him to seek her. The noise in the distance caused the woad-banded aurals to adjust, but she retained that tranquility, seemingly unconcerned with that sound in the distance. She listened too and found that the disturbance had receded into the distance. The amber eyes found her once more, but her eyes had never left him.
Those white, tranquil orbs were impassive as he spoke that additional statement, unable to understand quite that amusement that emerged within his voice, upon his maw. It was most certainly not spoken as a question. The mild curiosity of the warrior wondered at the giver of such news. "I do," the soft, Caledonian lilt replied simply. She was reminded once more of the time that had passed since she had last seen the golden boy—four moons, perhaps, or even five? At times it was difficult for the black fae to pinpoint exact dates. For a wolf, such dates were irrelevant, and only the event, in the end, was significant. That was not to say that she lost the order of her life’s happenings but that time, ever flowing, changing, and yet constant, was an irrelevant factor within her mind. That discrete gaze was unchanging, and yet beneath was the warmth of one alive, of one who spoke to a familiar creature. "There are two," the soft melody continued. "They are twins, but they are not the same." No, the confusion lay somewhere deeper.
500+
The words that were spoken by the golden coyote did not suggest hostility, nor did it hold mendacious intent. The warrior listened to his voice, to his breathing, to the world about him, and she could hear it. She had sensed upon their last meeting a tentative darkness caused, perhaps, by the attack of the crow wolf, or perhaps by other events of which she was not a part. And the woad-bound ears lifted as if hearing something more, or as f she tried to hear something more. She listened for what the silence would say, but the silence was often limited by the will of the other to give such a thing. Her own silence gave very little. Her eyes gave very little. Content that he would not cause trouble with Dahlia, at least within her presence, the Raven Warrior stepped forth to surpass the limits of the boarder. But she did not recline, preferring to stand within the quiet song of the woods.
A soft smile touched the woad-bound maw, illuminating the quiet lips. Conor, too, had come to visit. It was a peculiar thing to the warrior. But it seemed as if the golden coyote did not come without a why or a reason. Slightly, imperceptibly, the black fae’s head tilted in question. "What was troubling you, Ezekiel?" The voice was quiet as it sang upon the quiet air with tones of silver and chords of gold. His words implied that he no longer was, but she wondered still what it was that caused such worry, and what it was that moved him to seek her. The noise in the distance caused the woad-banded aurals to adjust, but she retained that tranquility, seemingly unconcerned with that sound in the distance. She listened too and found that the disturbance had receded into the distance. The amber eyes found her once more, but her eyes had never left him.
Those white, tranquil orbs were impassive as he spoke that additional statement, unable to understand quite that amusement that emerged within his voice, upon his maw. It was most certainly not spoken as a question. The mild curiosity of the warrior wondered at the giver of such news. "I do," the soft, Caledonian lilt replied simply. She was reminded once more of the time that had passed since she had last seen the golden boy—four moons, perhaps, or even five? At times it was difficult for the black fae to pinpoint exact dates. For a wolf, such dates were irrelevant, and only the event, in the end, was significant. That was not to say that she lost the order of her life’s happenings but that time, ever flowing, changing, and yet constant, was an irrelevant factor within her mind. That discrete gaze was unchanging, and yet beneath was the warmth of one alive, of one who spoke to a familiar creature. "There are two," the soft melody continued. "They are twins, but they are not the same." No, the confusion lay somewhere deeper.