the ancient harmonies are given thee -j-

[Cerridwyn]

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Name: Cerridwyn
Birthdate: 6/28/2005
Regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
Gender: Female
Your e-mail: exquisitecur@aim.com
AIM: exquisitecur
How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Hurr, I was here forever ago :3.
word count=517

"Give thou... thine heart... to the wild... frick... magic... argh."


"To the Lord... and, ugh, Lady... of Nature..."


"Nnnguh, beyond any... consideration... of this... shit... world. Fuck, Danu damn it all!"


This last curse was uttered with one final, exhausting heave as a shaggy, sopping, tri-colored form pulled itself determinedly onto the ragged shoreline. It flung itself down in a heap, panting, before struggling to a sitting position, arms on knees, head hanging between them.


"Do not covet... large or small... do not despise weakling... or poor... semblance of evil... allow not near thee... never give... nor earn... thou shame." And, for good measure: "Holy fucking Danu, thank you goddess for that."


She sat for another few moments, catching her breath, before turning her chocolate eyes outwards toward the sea. Danu's light was just beginning to grace the waters, turning that hateful expanse into a beautiful cloak of shimmering diamonds. Spent thought she was, instilled with a new-found hatred for all things salty and wet, Cerridwyn could not help but appreciate the glory of the sunrise on the ocean.


In a sudden wave of listlessness, she decided that she didn't give three flying Fomorians about the beauty of Danu on the water, and had just enough time to think that this was an absurd blasphemy before collapsing once again into a heap of soggy fur, except this time it was involuntary and resulted in unconsciousness.


Danu was well overhead by the time the hybrid awoke, head pounding and joints aching. She managed to stand on shaky knees, running her hands over her long, thick fur, trying to remove some of the salt that had crusted there and which was beginning to itch quite madly. Bringing her knuckles to her eyes, she proceeded to remove the crustiness from them, and blinked blearily. To her left was the water from whence she had just come; to her right, a forest of trees which looked cool, dark and welcoming. There was probably water -- fresh water -- in there somewhere, she thought, and with this thought came the realization of exactly how parched she was. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Eugh.


Her tall, willowy form moved exactly two-point-six-five steps in the direction of the trees before it stopped short, as surely as she'd hit an invisible wall. She knew the scent of a tribe when she smelled one, and boy was the area saturated with it. She probably would have realized this earlier had it not been for the exhaustion preceded by unconsciousness preceded by exhaustion. Great. She let out a frustrated half-snarl-half-whimper, and turned to look for a way around the scent-marker. She let out a disbelieving woof at what she saw, which turned into a chuckle, which soon degenerated into half-mad cackles. Not a hundred yards down the shoreline from where she had scaled the drop-off to the sea, the cliffs mellowed into shallow, rocky beaches, where one might, instead of killing oneself trying to become the world's first shaman-cum-rock-climber, simply stroll from the lapping waves of the sea right up onto dry land.

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