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Gosh, my char is too awkward lol ^^'
Catherine was ruined. It looked the best day ever for her: she was napping lazily at the sound of the rain, while Seymour were on his scout shift. But it all changed in the briefest of the moments. All of a sudden, a thunderbolt ripped the clouded sky. The sudden sound waked her with a shock and she lost the equilibrium, falling from the branch.
...
When she finally recovered the senses, she was lyed in the wet ground, all covered of mud. Her head was spining, her view was muddy and her ears were drumming. Everytime she breathed, her chest ached. "Shoot!" she cursed, with a rough voice. She knew she had broken a rip or two. A few seconds later, she noticed that something was pushing obsessively her mane. She turned her head slowly, aching a little. Her eyes were finally coming back to normal and she saw Seymour, with some of her mane in his beak. She sat down, resting her back in the tree's trunk, hurting her rips. When her right arm moved, it burned under her skin. She screamed in pain. "Dang it!!" she shouted, cursing. She knew it was broken too.
Great! she though in rage. With a broken arm, she couldn't climb trees again, nor hunt. This was the worst day ever for her. Seymour climbed her shoulder and cuddled under her jaw, probably trying to cheer her up. She ignored him, turning her head away and she saw something dark blue in the middle of the pine tree's roots near her: her bag. Thanking heavens, she grabbed the dirty bag awkwardly, trying not to move her injured arm. With just one hand, she looked for pieces of leather and a wire. Finally finding them, she got a stick on the ground and made a very rough bandage on her arm. Not her chest because she didn't really had enough leather
or knowledge for it.
She didn't got up, but she could just sit there and wait for her wounds miraculously heal. She took a very deep breath. "HELP!!!" she shouted again and again until her throath begun hurting too. She stopped and tryied to caught her breath, hoping that someone would come. Don't matter who, but someone.
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I have Cwmfen in lupus form, but if you want her to be in luperci form, I can change that easily enough, ^=^ Also, let’s keep this date this thread for early January 14th. Is that allright with you?
500+
The world wept. Cwmfen sat alone, allowing those cold tears to fall upon her form. Having completed a good several hours of martial training, the woad-marked female sat to rest, though her body did not claim to be tired. The heat from her labors rose from her fur in faint wisps as she remained in that lithic, sentinel’s form. She had shifted back to her lupus form, for, even after all this time, she still felt the comfort and beauty of this form most. The white orbs blinked as they looked towards the heavens. Save for the snow, nothing was more beautiful than the falling rain. The song of the world sighed in her ears, and she closed her eyes to listen. Listen. It seemed that the warrior spent much of her time listening these days, and she spent these days in silence. There was much to dwell upon, and yet nothing at all. But the female did not find this solitude unbearable, especially today when she was spending it with the rain.
Rising, the female turned her orbs to the south. Perhaps today she would run, for her soul was at peace and that wild ferocity shone through the darkness of the day. With a smile that was strangely mirthless, the female threw herself forward into the coming rain. Her movements were fluid and effortless as she flew across the lands. The world about her was a blur, and yet her quick eyes caught the necessary details as she lept over fallen trees and dodged passed jutting limbs. She ran this way for many hours, crossing over many distances. And yet, her body was only marginally tired, her breathing only slightly labored. And her muscles felt a white-hot exhilaration as they carried her over the lands and through the dark, cold forests.
Upon nearing the boarders of the exotic tribe AniWaya, Cwmfen’s woad banded ears pricked forward. She heard the calling, and it very clearly sought aid. Even from this distance, where words were indistinguishable, the desperation in that calling voice was clear to the Dahlian Warrior. Pausing only momentarily to locate the direction of the call, the black wolf changed her course, seeking out that caller. It was not long before the form of the caller came into view. It was a female, her coat a brindle of many shades of grey. Not knowing this female at all, she had to guess that they were of similar ages. The female lingered at the edge of the boarder before taking only a single step over that invisible barrier.
"I heard you calling, female of AniWaya." This was her greeting, and her Caledonian lilt sang strongly in the cold, dark air. The white orbs flickered over the arm of the other, and it became clear that it was a hastily prepared splint. Overhead, the pied Raven crawed, turning his one eye to the woad warrior. A wry smile touched the female’s lips, for it seemed that the Raven had found her. "Perhaps I can help you with that," the female offered, indicating to the injured arm with a woad bound maw.
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No problem, its up to you. It's alright with me.
Catherine had waited paciently to someone to appear, though her own breathing was hurting her. A squack called her attention to the raven to the stranger. The female stranger was plenty uncommon, like herself. The blue markings on the dark pelt and the completely white orbs were very weird, but she didn't compleine. She hadn't reason for, since she was weird looking as well.
Her greetings was the most... polite until now. She raised one eyebrown at that greeting, put it fell quickly. The stranger's offer of help would be pretty welcomed by Catherine, but she wasn't in her normal mood. She always has been very calm and positive, but all of that flushed away with that fall. She looked up, frowning at the broken branches, marking her way down to the ground. She snarled lightly to it and turned her head slowly to her arm and chest, still frowning. Her embarassement with all that situation turned to anger, like usually happened when she was embarassed with something. "...Hello." she said through her teeth, angryly and unwillingly, her voice very rough.
She grimaced to the female, irritated, but she needed some help. "Thanks" she said bitterly. "I'm Catherine" she greeted back, her voice still rough. She didn't really knew why she introduced herself. It may be the nerves. Her mouth itched. She knew it faintly: it meant she wanted to bite something. She was sure that in any moment, she would end up attacking the female, though it didn't do anythingto her.
She looked at Seymour in her shoulder. "Go." she said simplily to the bird of prey and it hesitated for a seconds and flew away. She looked bitterly to the stranger once again, snarling faintly to her, showing just the tips of her teeth. She was mad and nearly insane enoguh to mess up with anyone, though she didn't know anything about the dark female in front of her.
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Sorry for the wait~
500+
Cwmfen’s white orbs watched the other with marginal interest. Truthfully, the calls for help had disrupted the beauty of that day. But the female was not annoyed so much as she was disappointed. She wished to return to the world before, but she was not impatient. The female was a calm soul, a searching and wandering soul too, but she was not quick to anger. She was a Warrior, trained in the art of war; her body was savage and her tactics refined, but her mind was civilized, controlled and cool. This was the enlightenment of the warrior, and she carried herself with pride, but with modesty also. The strange components of her character were as curious as her lineage of both Caledonian and Korean blood.
The she-wolf noted will the briefly raised eyebrow. A mild irritation itched at her mind, for she perceived the gesture was one of disrespect. Respect was a thing held in high regard within the female’s mind, and so this small gesture, as insignificant as it may seem, was accepted with that infinitesimal ire. The white orbs flickered dangerously, but the injured female seemed distracted as she gazed upon the trees, and Dahlian felt that her own gesture of response would go unnoticed—if not merely unheeded. The AniWayan’s gaze hinted at the origin of the injury, which smelled fresh. The scent of the hot flesh beneath the cast was found easily by her olfactory senses and its freshness was aptly noted, though not necessarily acted upon.
There was anger in the voice of the grey, brindled female, and a single, woad-banded ear swiveled back disapprovingly. She refrained, however, from raising her own brow. And yet, the tranquility of the female remained undisturbed. These small acts—the movement of her ears, the twitch of her brow—seemed merely for show. Within the female, her mind clicked, for she knew that injured creatures were known to become irrational. The woman before her was of an adult age, and the black fae felt that control should be in her grasp. She intuited, however, that this was not the case, and so the female became wary.
"Cwmfen nic Graine," the alto voice greeted cordially in return. The waod Warrior knew that the pain of the fracture must be driving the other mad, and so she ignored the continuity of the bitter and annoyed demeanor that was presented to her. Nevertheless, the female saw—or perhaps ‘felt’ was the proper term—the dangerous shift of the other’s maw. The black fae knew what it connoted, yet she disregarded and took a step forward, for the other had accepted her aid. But as the other’s pet was dismissed, she heard a snarl. The woad-banded ears pressed forward in a show of aggression, for the female was more than capable of it. Yet, her face was not unkind as she spoke sternly. "Do you wish for my aid or not, Catherine?" As she spoke, the one-eyed Raven landed ominously upon the she-wolf’s shoulders. The single eye, however, was turned toward the retreating bird of prey. "Calm yourself before the madness takes you."
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Catherine's sanity was flushing away, and she wondered for a second what would happen if she lost control. Of course just the motion of her breathing was hurting her rips and her arm, which was supported in her belly. She wanted so badly to bite something... Looking at the one-eyed raven, wishing it was cruching in her mouth instead to in the fae's shoulder. Actually, she wished everything she looked at to be in her mouth. The snarling was hearable, her teeth getting more exposed than before.
She made a face at the female's name, confused. What the heck...? she thought. So... uncommon. She thougth that the fae had just said an unknown language. She wondered how do you spell that. She wanted to say that she would like the aid, but then she felt the pitch, sharp burn in herr arms and she realized that it shook a little, cleaning completely all her thoughts from her head. She whimpered loudly in pain, when it got slightly better and she was able to breathe again, she couldn't help but growl, all her teeth exposed. Her other hand and feet were shaking, as she wanted to spring at the female near her. She heard her warning, but she couldn't nearly understand what she said.
She stared madly at the female, her white sharp canines showing, snarling nevoursly at the black female. She couldn't think in what she was doing. All her mind was blinded with a deep fog that was this stupid madness. She jumped toward the female, her paws directing to the fae's chest, pretending to bite her throath.
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Is Catherin still in Luperci form? It would be fine if she was—I have Cwmfen responding as if she were, but I can change that easily enough. Do you want this to be a long-ish or short fight? If it’s short, we could finish up within the next few posts, or if it’s long, just draw it out longer, you know? ^=^ It’s up to you; I don’t mind either way~ Oh, and congrats on your Spotlight Soul
500+
Cwmfen’s woad banded ears flickered forward at the sound of the brindled Catherin’s snarls. She heard too the pain in each breath that the other took, and she recognized the danger of this situation. Injured animals—especially predators—were especially aggressive, and the adrenaline that would pump through them made them something to contend with. The warrior responded subtly, for she did not wish to push the AniWayan beyond the point of losing control if there was no need to. Her posture shifted, and her limbs allowed themselves to bend slightly to prevent the joints from locking. The white orbs continued the watch the other, who did not respond with words. And that hungry look—indescribable and yet visible—did not leave the others jaws. The warrior both feared and was eager for the other to act upon that innate hunger brought on by pain and the illusory proximity of death.
It looked almost as if the other would respond, but the control was wiped clean by the obvious pain that shot through the grey wolf’s trembling body. It was like a knife that severed sanity from the soul. Cwmfen saw the two disconnect clearly, and her body responded without a second thought, and she found herself faced with the other flying at her, jaws ready to rip out her throat. But the black female was all too familiar with this scene, with the nature of the others mind. She had contended with many who had been driven mad by pain and by disease, and she had escaped death many times. The woad warrior did not intend to let death catch her now, and that instinctual response instilled within her soul that sought her to fight to survive leapt forth with ferocity.
Even though the other’s mind would have been clouded by pain, the natural form with which she attacked told the warrior that she was not completely lost, and so she responded with care. A vicious snarl that held death by the tongue ripped through the air between them. She lifted herself slightly to allow the brindle paws to meet her chest, and as they did, she allowed for the momentum to be used to her advantage. While against her instinct, she threw back her head, exposing her neck so as to escape the frantically snapping jaws. The woad female’s own paws took the other under her arms, and as her back hit the earth, she threw up her hind legs, attempting to throw and send her opponent rolling.
Rising with another, though quieter, snarl, the female twisted her body with a strangely graceful yet powerful movement, placing herself upon her paws once more. The black tail flickered back and forth as she assessed the other with clear eyes. Her mind was calm and clear, as it often was during battle. The warrior was not afraid, she only feared that she would be forced to hurt the other, and while the other had attacked her, she was willing to forgive, for she knew that such actions were driven by a pain-maddened mind. "Catherine," the clear alto tone called, attempting once more to break through that madness. "Don’t make me do this." But her body was already prepared for the attack she knew must be inevitable.
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Yeah, she is. I don't hope a long one, since she is harmed and against a skilled warrior~ Oh, Thanks. ^^ It was unexpected.
Catherine couldn't think of anything in that moment, completely blinded with the burning pain from her arm and ribs. It ached so much that her wish to bite something got stronger and stronger, and she couldn't help but to fulfill that wish.
Her jump toward the female finished when she reached to it, dropping above it. Her arm ached in response to the impct, driving her crazy. When the thud of their weight falling at the ground, she felt two paws push her up. Her eyes poped in shock with that move, while sher body falled forward. She wouldn't let just in that. Her body let the turn happen, but it turned to a ball in the air, landing her feet in the ground silently, falling on her feet. Her head turned quickily toward the female, her own pose in a agressive way.
The fur on her neck and shoulder and her mane raised, her claws were sinking in the earth beneath her, her mouth half open, showing her teeth completely, her ers were flattened to her back and the tail raised strict. All of her body was tensed, and it just made the pain worser. Now, she was just an crazy, uncontrolable beast. The words of the other female was nearly hearable. She was deaf with the pain as well. A very loud growl ri´pped out of her throath, tense and rough.
Her body bended and sprang toward the female once again, darting madly toward it. The harmed arm and ribs ached excruciantly, making a tear jerk down her face. The pain was enough to make her cry. Her mouth opened as wide as she could, not actually aimming a particular part of her enemy, though it did't seemed to want to harm her.
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Sorry for the wait! Your so fast! OnO I hope you don’t mind if she gives her the scar now... . It’s on her right eye, right?
500+
Cwmfen nic Graine, Warrior of Dahlia de Mai, was, above all else, a warrior. She could be nothing else save for a creature a war, for she had been so all her life. She loved the battle and she felt the ecstasy of the fight rising in her blood. She noted the aggression in the other’s posture, and she could not ignore it. It was stimulus that invoked the primeval response in her, and it was one in which she was more than willing to give into, to lose herself in. And yet, despite it all, the female never lost her head. It was perhaps this fact that made her such an efficient warrior—her mind was always clear. And like an injured leopard, the pains of battle only made her mind clearer. It was a strange thing, and it was a thing that she had been given by her father. For that one thing she thanked him. And having thanked him, she threw herself into the moment.
Her posture changed. The hackles upon her neck rose up, piercing the sky with black talons. She threw her woad bound ears forward in open aggression, and her blue tipped tail rose up in dominance, as if asserting to the luperci that she would be triumphant. This was a mere spar—she knew that. She knew that she must not kill the other, for she now represented her pack. She knew that she must be especially calculating in every move she met. But still she treated this situation as she would treat any battle of war. With a wild and fierce elation flaming in her white eyes, the female’s maw pulled up in a wild snarl. The sound slid smoothly from her throat, and that thunderous sound burst forth into the world, clawing the air with its violence. The sound was much louder than anything becoming the female, and it was a war cry used in spars, one that meant to startle. One that meant to assert one’s power over the other. And yet, the brindled female before her was far too lost within her pain to heed her warning.
Catherine attacked once more. She was quick, the black fae gave her credit. She saw those powerful jaws open, hungry for her own flesh and blood. But there was no control in the movements or in the mind. Yet, the other was had the advantage of height, for she was in her lupus form. But she had stability and experience on her side. These thoughts flashed through her mind, flickering in brief torrents. And then she was acting. Having gathered herself, the woad wolf burst forth from the earth, leaping into the air with powerful grace. She rose straight up, timing it so that the other was nearly on top of her before she had acted. The wolf seemed to be throwing herself madly into the other’s waiting jaws, but at the last minute, she twisted her body aside. Her own jaws opened, and she closed them upon the other’s face. She had held back, meaning only to surprise the other and to leave behind bruises alone. But she felt her canine nick the skin about the grey female’s right eye. As a warrior, she did not regret it however, only thought it unfortunate.
The female’s front paws landed on the cold earth behind her opponent. She turned almost immediately to face her. She hesitated to attack once more, however, and she waited with a certain amount of curiosity, for she wished to assess the damage that she had done. But the ferocity had not left her, and that wild aggression was still livid upon her face.
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Well, lots of free time and nothing good to do lol. Sorry this end, but I thought the fight to be short. Not too much, besides she is not in good conditions.
Catherine was completely lost in the wild of that pain. She had never broken any bone, and, as she used to say, the first one is always the hardest one. Not only that, her pride didn't let go the idea of falling the tree for a thunder. So many times she slept on top of trees in the worse kind of storm, and nothing happened to her... This thought only made it even harder. She noticed for a second that the black wolf's posture had changed in a more dominant way. Maybe for her, but Catherine was way too mad to even consider that. It jumped back to her, and her instincts was saying that her oponent was doomed. Silly otimism. The other moved away from her in the last second, and her eyes popped out in shock. Following with her disturbed eyes, she saw the other's jaw close on her eye. She whimpered loudly and longly, a sharp, piercing sound. It hurted her own ears. The blood of that blinded the injuried eye and she closed the other too. Then, for the longest second, the time froze. She had a déjà vu. A while ago, she had been blinded by her father's blood, which flooded her mouth as she suffocated him with her jaws. It was it... when it stopped flashing on her mind, the madness broke off, letting her mind completely empty, and the déjà vu let space to the epiphany. She noticed what she had become. In that moment, she realied that she was acting just like her father. A brute, mindless and wild creature, that attacked the first thing on her front. She noticed being herself again as her muzzle landed akwardly on the wet, muddy ground. She slidded in the floor, her injuries aching. She tryed to get up with her three legs trembling, but she falled down. She looked at her opponent with just one eye. The harmed one was closed, the blood flowing down her cheek. Her expression was blank, completely clear. She just kept looking at it a while, and then she sighed. She was feeling the pain in her arm, in her ribs and in her eye, but it wasn't actually bothering her. It wasn't even close to make her mad again. Lying there, she closed the unharmed eye.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." she whispered in a rough, low voice. She doubted that the other heard her apologize, but she kept still, with closed eyes, waiting the black female's next move.
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Of course~ ^=^
500+
A quiet, continuous roll of thunder snarled in her throat as the female’s white eyes beheld her opponent with a wild ferocity. She sensed the shock from the other, saw the physical attributes of such surprise, but the instinct and the habit of the female urged her to move—to continue and finish what she had done. For two long years she had learned the ways of life the hard way, and she had learned to kill those who attacked lest they should kill in return. It was that vicious cycle of the wild, and she had trusted no one. Even one who submitted with defeat would come after her, and so she learned to kill them all, and she had been good at what she done. But here, she hesitated, for she was no longer the wild, free-roaming lone wolf. She was a pack wolf, and she held a respectable rank within the pack of Dahlia de Mai. The wolf before her, moreover, was a member of the nearby tribe AniWaya, and so she must not kill this wolf. But her body screamed and her mind fought to break free, to force the savagery into her body and into motion, to close her jaws about the weakened, injured wolf who had attacked her.
But she saw the sudden change within the grey brindled female, and it was like the sun had risen in the darkness of night. Sanity had not crept back to her but had flown in the face of her madness, and the black fae saw it and it stilled her wild ferocity. She had a reputation to uphold, and she now represented a pack. She would not kill this wolf today. Perhaps if Catherine had continued, the wolf would have, purely out of habit. But there was no true need for this battle and Cwmfen recognized it. She recognized the poor condition of the AniWayan female, and she knew that this would not be worth the trouble of a kill. And so, with a great effort, she smoothed the ruffles in the once-raging waters of her mind, returning it to its naturally tranquil state. With a great sigh, the female released the energies of her body and mind, and her muscles relaxed, and her hackles fell, and her face was plain and gentle once more.
And then Catherine was prone upon the earth, and the female nodded silently as she accepted the soft-spoken words offered in the still heated air. The Tilia hesitated, as if considering to leave her opponent behind. Habit bid her to do so. And yet, was the AniWayan an opponent still? She could not think so. And the female had needed help. She had to admit that she must give the other credit, for she had fought regardless of the temporary handicap of her arm. Finally, a faint smile broke through, and it flickered there with a warmth. "I understand," she replied quietly. And she did, for pain drove one to great lengths. It was merely a reaction imbedded deep within the psyche of all wolves, and she doubted that the female before her had had the training of the discipline of warriors. But she remembered the time when she too was untrained, and she recognized the strength it took for the female to admit it.
Cwmfen took a step in Catherine’s direction. Then another, and another. And then she was standing over the luperci, but not as a conquerer. With a soft, unthreatening gesture, the she-wolf lowered her maw to the woman’s face and licked the blood from the wound that she herself had inflicted. "Would you still be needing that help?" the woad warrior asked with a wry smile. It was ironic to think that she would be helping one who had just attacked her, but she lived in a different world now, and she knew the rules of this game.
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Catherine knew that the wild motive for the attack for the black wolf was not her fault. There was something she reconized by being from her father's. Her mother didn't seem to have any knid of agressive reaction to anything, except when it was about Catherine. What happened right now didn't look like her. Not even a bit. She knew it wasn't her fault. All of this felt like there was a wild beast inside her, chained, unable to get out. It was waiting its moment to brake free, and it just did. Now, it seemed to be on control, but it wasn't locked anymore. Catherine knew it could happen anytime now, and she needed to be aware to it.
She opened her eyes as the black female accepted her apologize. She didn't get up and watched the other female get near her. She got surprised once again as she licked her eye. She couldn't see with the harmed eye anymore, though the blood was out and it was opened. Half opened, actually, but still open. She understood why. It was unable to see. The attack wasn't just a clawing, when the cut is only superficial, not reaching the eye itself. It was a bite, and she remeber felling the other's fangs deeping on it. her right eye was blind now. The cut was deep and it blinded her, but she didn't feel like harming Cwmfen. Inspite her attack, she didn't look to be mad at her. Stunted with the ease the female seemed to recover her temper, she wished to have this ability. If she did a few minutes ago, both of her eyes would be seeing.
"Yes, please." she said, in a humble way. She was still trying to keep it cool with the white orbed female. She realized now. Did she see anything? Oh, well..., she thought. She felt surrounded by different wolves. Leland had mismatched eyes, this female had clear white eyes... herself had weird eyes. Black scleras are nearly impossible. She sighed, forgeting that and trying to figure ut what to do with that "deficient" eye.
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