The Dark Heart Longs For You

Cwmfen nic Graine · 02-20-2011, 09:51 PM

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P: Onus; I’m a little rusty…
WC: 619

The Song of Autumn whispered along the surface of the rivers, kissing the calm, glassy view that reflected the empty heavens. The soft voices sang with golden mirth, lifting the fiery leaves from the branches and carrying them great distances from the branches that held their lithe forms. One day, when the leaves had decayed upon the frozen earth, new, green buds would bloom with slow grace from wooden limbs. But many moons would pass before then. And now the world grew colder, the breath of winter causing the earth to shudder and shimmer in a golden shroud. The soft voices whispered, singing the light-hearted songs of a dying earth that new of the life that would soon return. The water laughed and bubbled with a serene mirth, the voices merging with the wind, enticing, enjoying, loving of the world in which it moved. And the world was still in the golden afternoon sun. The earth was warmed by the slow, vast breath of the golden orb above, and the life that moved within its realm was able to find comfort in a place that encouraged the life that would surely bloom in future months; in the world of the dying, naught was mourned. Life that was able still to linger was cherished in the cooling breath of the world, for even in Death Life was able to persist.

The slowly-held silence was broken only by the soft sigh of the fallen leaves being crushed by silent paws. That soft song, sudden for the silence, was caressed by the laughter of the September trees. The scent of the dying foliage was comforting—familiar to one who had only just returned. She found that the Earth remembered her and hummed a golden tune of rejoicing. Her own soul sang in response, the silver tones dancing upon the air with silvered paws. She was naught but a passing shadow graced by the cerulean brush of the Morrigan. The One-Eyed Raven, the pied form trailing overhead, became the tenebrous form of the shadowed Warrior. The sinew of her weathered form carried the lupine body in silence and grace. Each step was given to the earth with ethereal grace. So fluid was each step that she seemed naught but the eased laughter of the trees’ leaves dancing upon silver winds of a dying world.

A familiar scent caught the she-wolf’s attention. Suddenly her movements had ceased, and she had become naught but a shadow beneath a great tree standing sentinel. Woad-banded ears stood erect, catching even the sound of the wind’s laughter in the distant winter, in the golden autumn, in the silvered dying. The white orbs closed, enveloped in the similar tenebrous world, and the she-wolf listened to the world, to the dancing of the familiar scent. She knew it, and her soul sang and danced upon a silver tune. She was able to rejoice once more in one thing that she had not known would be possible in the life of one who followed the step of Death: Love.

”Onus.” The light, Caledonian-Korean lilt called out, the silver song so soft that it seemed but a continuation of the iridescent song of the Autumn world. The Woad Warrior’s form was held in a way that appeared as if the walking Dead had only just paused. The woad-marked shadow knew who must be near and waiting, and her beating muscles waited to with great yearning. The white orbs had revealed themselves to the world once more, their glowing, hidden depths bright once more as they searched for a face that the heart longed for so dearly—a face that had been absent from the heart so completely and yet was never forgotten.

Onus · 03-13-2011, 02:27 AM

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Sorry for the wait Req! I've been busy busy DX Also, I'm rusty too!

The vigilante had not been leading a very exciting life since Cwmfen had left him and their children for the lands they had met in. Onus had not understood her decision and he doubted he ever would even if she explained it to him. Even if she ever came back. There had been a plague on Nova Scotia and its name had been Haku Soul. The coyote remembered the chocolate, blue eyed demon well. It was not in his nature to leave such a creature alive but the circumstances of his and Cwmfen's departure had been extenuating. Their children had been in danger. The demon might not have dared to touch the woad warrior, but he surely would have killed the twins if he had ever been given the slightest opportunity. And so they had left that place behind so Honor and Chastity could grow up in relative safety. Relative because the children of a warrior and a vigilante could only be so safe. The twins were now over a year old, and for a man who had never imagined having children, he was proud of his. Still, ever since Cwmfen's departure he had been more reserved and quiet even with his offspring, returning to the state he had occupied before he had met her.

At the moment the coyote man did not know precisely where the two hybrid twins were. He did not worry for them as he had when they were small and defenseless. They had been taught well in the ways of combat and they could easily protect themselves if the occasion came. They also always traveled around together so they would have the advantage of both of their skills. Onus had never observed such synchronous battle movements as the two shared. It nearly seemed something of legends and fairy tales. The fraternal twins could be a deadly force if they ever put their minds to it. Really though, there was not much action to be had for the odd little family. They traveled the wilds, which was not the father's forte, and he did not remember how long it had been since he had had a good fight, found a criminal worthy of his effort. The world was filled with scum, it always had been, and yet here it was oddly devoid of that. In some ways it was relaxing, but in others he rebelled against the stagnation. His body was still in top form, but there was no one to point the perfect weapon at. A boring existence for a vigilante. Still, he refused to leave the twins behind though. Partly because he loved them, and partly because he felt they were the only remaining link he had to their mother, the woman he loved.

The man had been sitting up in a tree, reading a book he had recently scavenged. His hat, scarf, and coat were off, hung over the branch, though the eyewrap remained in place. The cool autumn air tickled at his multi-hued coat and with it a scent came. At first Onus thought he was simply imagining it, a flight of fancy in the pastoral air. But then it became stronger and a waterspout of emotions pushed up in his chest. There was love, and relief, but they were tainted with a bitterness and a caution. He had never stopped loving her, but there had been times when he wished he could. When she had walked away it had left a wound in his heart and now he could feel the scar of it reopening. The coyote sat in the tree for some time, still as a statue, trying to decide exactly what he felt and what he should do. In the end he simply could not decide on the former, and as for the latter, he stayed where he was. If she wished to find him, she would. She had traveled all this way and she could walk a little further. He had waited, and would continue to. He would not be the excited puppy waiting at the doorstep for her.

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