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You'll just have to keep her awake, heheh~ ^=^
500+
She had been accepted into the lands called Dahlia de Mai.
Haku, however, had left immediately upon his approval, and she had remained at the boarders, watching his form disappear. The white orbs were uncertain still. Yes, she wanted to become a part of this pack. Yes, she was now accepted. But, now that she was, the black fae was uncertain about what had to be done next. Of course, as these thoughts occurred to her, Haku had already gone, and she remained silent, unwilling to bother the earthen-toned male anymore. It wasn’t as if she were new to solitude; her life had been spent on it.
Looking around, the woad-marked female began to take in the details of this new place. Should she wish to be successful in her new home, to hunt and aid in its defense, she must first become familiar with the lands, and Flanders Field was unique to her. The strange stones that marked the place of the dead were few in her homeland. Yet, she found the reclaiming of these stones by the local plants to be appealing.
Taking a deep breath Cwmfen nic Graine crossed the boarders—
Nothing.
She didn’t know exactly what she was expecting. Content with the emptiness, she took several more, her bright, white orbs crossing over the statue of the Virgin Marry. It was mesmerizing, but she was able to look away, only to find herself nose to nose with a tomb stone. Her nose barely touched the stone, but she sneezed with the suddenness of it. A light smile of amusement crossed her maw, finding the acquaintance fairly pathetic. Shaking her head, she moved on, occasionally lowering her barred maw to the leaves, as if speaking a greeting to the clinging plants.
Cwmfen wasn’t yet out of site of the boarders when she felt the full weight of her travel upon her. Her feather-light steps ceased as she permitted herself to yawn. A soft whine escaped as she completed the act, a pick tongue licking her maw thoughtfully. She would just rest here for the day; there was no reason to travel when she was so weary and would miss so many things. Looking about quickly, the black fae’s shining eyes found a place to retire—a nook between the roots of a tree. It wasn’t the best spot, but it’d have to do.
Having trotted lightheartedly to her found resting spot, she sniffed the place down, making sure it was a good spot—and it was. Marginally more than content, the black wolf sat herself down, turning about a few times before doing so. Quickly, she groomed herself with a soft pink tongue—first her shoulders, then her hips, then her thighs, and her paws last. As she completed the ritual, Cwmfen allowed herself to lay down and accept sleep. Her body became curled comfortably within the roots’ confines, but her head was set upon the root itself. She sighed deeply. It was comfortable indeed.
Heavy lids began to close shut the white orbs beneath...
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His hand lingered on a grave marker, fingers drifting carelessly across worn stone. It was strange how quickly the nature of a place could change, when one wasn't battling hallucinogenic drugs and fatigue brought about by days of stumbling through the ceaseless trees...the horrors, shadows and spinning rain were more peaceful, quiet, absent. The hollows were filled with light.
Grayson had returned to the cemetery to retrieve his belongings he had dropped just outside the border. In his pain filled brume he hadn't left them anywhere convenient or hidden. A possibility that they had been disturbed or no where to be found even...but he had to check. The gunmetal optime wasn't concerned. These things were trivial and could be replaced in the inner town which still reeked of human blood and tears.
Some days had passed since his coming, mostly spent meandering around the spot he'd chosen for himself above the vineyards. He still relied on the walking stick to limp around on two lean legs, a foot and calf left benumbed and dragging in the dust. This bothered him more than all the thoughts and facts that had rallied against him since his initiation into the ranks. Missing items, a war between strangers, Cassos' potential demise. He had never been so encumbered.
Leaving the marker, Gray leisurely limped over the forgotten burial sites and beneath the entreating dead-eyed stare of the Virgin Mary. A wolf had passed this way not too long ago, female and new. He found her soon enough, the spectacular creature folded among tree roots. He paused for just a second, silently admiring the halcyon blue femme without any real emotion on his face.
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Sorry for the wait~ ^=^;;;
500+
Sleep had come as soon as she had closed her eyes, and she drifted into oblivion as a rock would in the ocean deep—swiftly but smoothly. The darkness of the limbo was as soft as a hare’s down, and Cwmfen lay in its comfort without fear. The commodity pushed her deeper into sleep, and she sighed deeply before relinquishing her will to it. Even the dreams now lacked fear. The great crow-wolf did not lurk in the shadows, did not reach out with claws and jaws of belligerency and death. And yet, there was a strange sorrow for his absence. While he had done many a great unjusts upon her, while he brought fear upon her and death too, she felt something akin to admiration—to love. Love. There was something about that wolf that was unlike anyone she had ever met, or would ever meet...
Heartache—
—Dreams...
They were created in the split second before wakefulness. She dreamt now of a past battle. Yet, ire was not riddled within the world of her mind. Elation. Her fur bristling over her body was like a thousand needles gently pressing their way into her skin. The snarls thundered from her like a black thunder, and her teeth seared the air like white-hot swords. But to no avail. He appeared. The wolf before her became the crow wolf, and he could not be surmounted. The woad-marked fae’s posture became one of fear, almost submissive before the slowly approaching brute. She backed up, a snarl distorting her plain features. Her foot slipped, and the earth beneath it suddenly fell away—
Her back foot jerked, bringing the black fae out of her now-troubled slumber. She regained consciousness, but her eyes remained closed, a small frown creasing her brow as she stretched. But she could feel eyes on her. The white orbs opened, slowly, and they swiveled in a wide arch before finding the perpetrator. An optime luperci, ash-hued with black circles about his brown eyes. It wasn’t the way he was looking at her that bothered her as much as his mere presence did. Because of her experience with her father, and her non-existent contact with friendly wolves, others, especially males, induced a shyness from her.
Looking away bashfully, Cwmfen yawned, dragging a banded paw across the banded muzzle before re-positioning herself into a curled position. The white-eyed fae turned back to the other, raising her maw slightly to scent him. The optime’s scent was vaguely familiar to her; she’d smelled his scent as she had crossed over the boarders, and so she assumed that he must also belong to the pack Dahlia de Mai. A barely perceptible smile shyly crossed her slender maw.
“Hello...” Her quiet voice was soft and golden, like a steam of sunlight through a cold morning forest. “I... I’m new to the pack...” she stated lamely. There was an awkward laughter intermingling in her words—she hated socializing... She wanted to look away, disappointed with her efforts, but she didn’t. Instead, she watched the other male as if he were going to attack her; it was simply embedded into her now. But that’s what isolation did. Cwmfen wasn’t intentionally giving him the cold shoulder, it’s just how things came out.
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[Sorry for not being able to match your length. I've been a little distracted this week, but my next replies will be up to par.  ]
Grayson's ear tipped ever so slightly to catch the smooth gilded tones coming from the female's mouth, fingers tightening imperceptibly around the walking stick. Her uneasiness did not seem to perturb him. On the contrary, he continued to stare as if oblivious to the painted woman's discomfort, her cold affront washing over him almost like a passing thought. She was beautiful. Goddess in wolfskin. He allowed himself to acknowledge as much, but nothing more. Life was too short and flesh too abundant for admiration.
"I know," he replied simply, finally shifting from his stone-solid stance and calmly walking around to the backside of the tree, bare feet crunching soft whispers on the grass. He was not bothering to be quiet or at all stealthy, but the clumsy limp made it difficult to do so anyway.
"I, uh. Didn't mean ta wake y'up." His voice drifted around the bark, with a dry, sympathetic inflection that had not been previously obvious. He was kicking around in the grass, investigating a glimmer; there. Grayson knelt and with his right index finger lifted a strand of something silver from the weeds, attached a small red bauble. It might have been a jewel, but the colour was too dull. He straightened like an old man, frowning at the fresh rush of pain flooding his thigh. The pain meant he was regaining feeling, coming in spurts and flashes. Hope remained.
Grayson lifted the necklace to the light, as if admiring it. It had come from his backpack, so...the rest of it might have been nearby.
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Sorry about the delay... I was having a couple of depressed days because my ferret passed away... TT__TT But I'll try to be more punctual...
500+
I know.
Of course he knew. She laughed inwardly at herself. He would have known that she was a newcomer from her scent, and he would not have required her telling. But, sometimes the most obvious things required a voicing. Yet, she did not think that was one of them. She wondered how he had received that comment; perhaps he felt that she had insulted his intelligence. Or perhaps he had not received it in any particular way and she was merely over thinking the matter. Whatever the case may have been, the woad-marked fae remained silent, unsure as to how to respond. (How she always seemed to be in such a situation!)
Then the optime was moving, not gracefully, not clumsily. He simply moved, but it was as he were meant to, and that made it all the more beautiful. Cwmfen nic Graine loved the simple things in life, the small things that mattered most to the heart. She enjoyed simply watching things at times, and his movements were one that she had just found. They were unique from the others that she had seen move, but, of course, all things had their signature. She noticed his limp, and it hindered his movements, making any sort of travel cumbersome. The black female was curious as to how he had obtained such a wound, but she refrained from asking. After all, they had only just met. It was not her place to pry into the business of others.
As the form of the grey male slipped behind the tree, Cwmfen rose. Her movements were fluid, as free as quicksilver, and perhaps just as dangerous. She was quiet, and her lithe, sinuous form (which she had inherited from the structure of the people of her sire) aided in her relative silence. She tried to shake the sleep from her soul, but it clung to her like an oppressive cloud. Yet, she did not succumb to its pull, for she did wish to know more of the brown-eyed optime. The luminescent orbs followed the path that the male had taken, and she hesitated, wondering if she were permitted to follow. Her banded paw started forward thrice before she decided to pursue him.
As she rounded the corner, he spoke to her again. His voice took on a different tone, but that tone did not impress upon her. She was hardly ever moved by another’s personality, unless, of course, disrespect were to be involved. That was not the case here, however, and she responded with a light hearted smile. “Oh no, it wasn’t your fault. I was having a Dream...” Her melodic lilt faded into silence as the images flashed violently within her mind. There was no hint of such an experience upon her face, however, save for the barely perceptible fear, excitement, and confusion that flickered in the depths of those radiant orbs, but the moment was soon gone and with it the window of her soul was shut. A nearly forced smile followed soon after.
She stood behind him and to the right, so as to not get in his way. The woad-marked female watched him with interest as he knelt to examine a treasure. He seemed to recognize the necklace as he lifted it from the earth, or perhaps he merely recognized what the pendant was made of. Cwmfen really did not know, and she felt the weight of her naïveté. “Did you lose something?” Her head tilted slightly, the banded maw reaching forward a bit as if wanting to scent the thing which he held. As the grey optime rose, Cwmfen, for her proximity, could almost feel his pain in her mind like a red-white lightning. The black fae’s breath caught short in her throat as she experienced only a fraction of what he had. Yet, he did not wince nor did he grunt, he merely frowned, and so she too remained silent.
Shaking off what had just occurred, she took a step forward to get a better look at the necklace at it caught the light.
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