The Silvered Song of War

Cwmfen nic Graine · 02-24-2011, 07:55 PM

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I’ll keep it short and sweet after this as well~ <3 (also, a little rusty ^~^ Wink
500+

The dark shroud of the shadows of the night hung heavy still from the tenebrous heavens. The world moved slowly as if Time were not a force with which to contend, and the tension that should have hung suspended in the shadows was absent. Nothing seemed to stir the world at that moment. But then— The shadows of the Dampwoods stirred. A silent Warrior passed through, her pawsteps leaving not even the faintest trace of a susurrus. Always with a purpose this Woaded Warrior seemed to pass, and yet there was no immediate purpose here. Already many moons had passed since she had withdrawn from the duties of the Flower Pack. Once more, she felt herself no longer needed, and the Raven Dreamer had grown less knowing of her presence there. But the Raven Warrior was not troubled. She never was, accepting that the Morrigan, that Nemain, knew the end of her Soul. There would be no need to worry, for the Warrior lived as if each breath were her last. That was the Warrior’s Way. That was the path that she had chosen, of ultimate sacrifice for the protection of others. And so she had served thusly within the Flower Pack. But with Haku dead and Cercelee gone, and with Conor’s new reign, the Warrior felt that her purpose was no longer within the pack. And she had missed the War again. That had frustrated her, but the birth of her children—the presence of a family—had complicated her path.

Much had changed since her first arrival within these lands. Her body had seen many more battles, and yet the youth and strength, the sinew and beauty had not left. Despite having born children, despite having experienced rape once more, despite the numerous scars and the brand within her thigh, her physical presence seemed unchanged. The bright soul, however, had darkened, reveling in the curiosities of the Dark....

She could smell the boarders ahead. It belonged not to her own pack but to its rival. Inferni. Her soul rang with the recalling of that familiar name; it was a song that fit well within her soul, a song coloured a gold that contrasted with her dark and silvered soul. The Song of War that hummed through her being thrummed like a carnal lust within her, a lust that would never be sated, a lust that was both the passion and the doom of her life. The ethereal dancing of the woad-banded paws fell still as both a scent and a figure came to her mind’s eye. The white orbs drank in the dark landscape whose east was now coloured by the silver of the coming dawn. The Caledonian-Korean was silent. The black fae knew who it was before her, and the belligerent song thrummed stronger still. Her calm posture was untroubled, held tall and erect. The serenity of the white orbs was unmoved, neither amicable nor hostile. The movement of her soul did not stir within those glassy orbs as she beheld the familiar.

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