left its seeds while i was sleeping
#1
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set after the svar thread.


Today her mood was stable for the most part. Sabeen had woken in silence with the sticky scent of blood in her nose and her chest scabbing over. After cleaning herself and attending to the fairly minor gashes (what's a few more scars, after all) she had sat for hours, trying to recall what had happened prior, what had led to her wounds. But nothing came to mind- it was as if yesterday had never existed for her at all. The lady shrugged a dress on, smoothing out the linen fabric. She ran her fingers through her hair and exited her cabin, strolling westward towards the vineyards. There amongst the vegetation she relaxed, strolling through the orchards towards one of the big wooden houses.




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#2
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500+


The female recognized the scent immediately when she looked up to see the stranger walk across the fields. The white orbs watched the figure from a distance silently, standing motionless. The beauty of the day was lost upon her as she realized where the scent was from. She had smelt it at the scene of Svara’s mutilation. The warrior growled. Such a thing was inexcusable, and she would deal as she must with this woman, whoever she was. Perhaps it would have been better if she had met with all pack members before hand. Perhaps in doing so, she would have been able to assess their characters. And perhaps she would have been able to spare Svara her pain. But she knew that it could not all be held upon her. She did not doubt that the girl would have provoked an attack, but pack members did not go to such lengths. Spars and disagreements were inevitable. Small scars and wounds were excusable. But to take the eyes from the head of another—that was inexcusable. And the warrior saw no honor in a creature who would do that to family.


Grasping the knife that she had given to Svara in her hand, the female crossed the clearing slowly, deliberately, commanding a presence as she went. The wounds on her body were not fully healed, but she would risk whatever it was to come to the bottom of this. Briefly, the female thought of Onus. This would be something in which he would have indulged, that creature of Justice. Cwmfen did not have such an honorable cause. She was merely a warrior, a respectable creature that fought with a love for battle and a need to protect her pack. And now, whether the girl wanted it or not, Svara needed protecting. The white orbs were hard with their disappointment of the pack member, but her soul was the tranquility of an enlightened warrior. The woad swirled tail waved behind her as she walked, almost catlike in its gesture of displeasure. And she did not hide her intent from the female as she approached, intercepting the brown female’s path.


The scent of blood covered the other female, and she knew without a doubt that this must be the perpetrator. Cwmfen’s posture was erect. She was silent as the white orbs considered the other, and it was almost as if the warrior were deciding where to begin the confrontation. “I am Cwmfen nic Graine,” the alto melody finally sang, but her melody was hard, though not yet hostile. She gave a curt bow. Even in such situations, the warrior was not without respect and honor. “You are....?” The warrior gave a clear cue to the brown hued woman with the scars to provide her name. Before she would make her end clear, it would be proper for introduction to be made. As she stood there grasping the crow knife and standing with a commanding air, it did not appear as if the woad marked fae had ever been injured.

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#3
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.


The voice of the woman was calm and soothing as it sought her out. Sabeen turned to see the slender black form of Cwmfen, the wolf that had been promoted at the meeting. As before, she could feel the power resonating from the dark body, almost instantly commanding respect- something rare for the dress-clad lady. Something seemed wrong, though, the curtness in the other's manor. She inclined her head. 'Sabeen Thames. Congratulations on your promotion,' she added, suddenly feeling cold. She wished she had a hit, but she was clean for today.

Sabeen wondered what was making her edgy. The black shapes of yesterday were still chased from her mind, although perhaps this was related. Had she done something? The lady was unaware of her psychosis for the most part. The only time she could remember clearly feeling that awful hallucinatory insanity was when she murdered her sons. Still, she felt no remorse in her for that, having trained herself to believe it was a necessary act of retribution. Now she wondered at the smell of blood in the air- well, that couldn't be her, could it? Cautiously, Sabeen spoke. 'Is something the matter?'






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#4
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500+


The woad warrior was going to go through much trouble for the girl Svara. At first, the female did not understand why she would want to. It would be appropriate to simply allow the girl to contemplate the flaws of her character and what such flaws had brought to her. But then, the warrior had thought of Onus, and she knew that Justice must be served. Then, again, the warrior thought of the pack, and she knew that there must be a punishment for the crime that had been done. The warrior could not understand why a wolf would have risked so much on a petty crime that had stolen the girl’s sight, for the scent would have been known. And surely the one having been attacked would know the attacker as well. It was a strange thing to the warrior, and the more she contemplated the matter, the stranger it seemed.


The brown female was quite relaxed. It was not even the calm of took one who was indifferent, and she had seen such a calm many times within the face and soul of her father. The female’s mind was suspicious of herself, wondering if perhaps she had been too quick. But that could not be the case. The scent of blood upon the other was unmistakable. It was the same as that which she had scented at the scene of the calamity. The woad marked warrior shifted her weight, feeling a stiffness in her right hip from the happenings of the previous day. But she held herself up, unrelenting to her own weaknesses. The warrior accepted the other’s bow. At least she showed respect where it was needed. Many had forgotten such formalities (and her mind went to Svara and to Dutch). “Thank you,” the alto melody sang, and her voice seemed dance with her sincerity. But the woad bound ears pricked forward. “Thames?” The female repeated. The white eyes studied the woman’s face, realizing a family resemblance. “You’re Svara’s...mother?” the female guessed based on age, but she could never be sure.


But even as she had spoken, this Sabeen seemed puzzled, as if she did not quite understand what was going on. Her question seemed innocent and without the false innocence of a lie. The white eyes narrowed slightly, suspiciously. What was going on? What was the matter indeed. The female briefly turned her gaze to the dagger which she held before the white orbs returned to those wheat coloured eyes. “Are you aware of what has become of Svara, Sabeen?” The alto melody spoke slowly, quietly, and she held the suspicion openly now as she deliberately used her name. Often the warrior found that speaking another’s name invoked a response, if only it grasped the attention. Then she lifted the dagger, holding it in the open palm of her hand, not presenting it to her, but merely allowing the woman to look. Perhaps it would trigger a memory. But the woman did not know of the mahogany fae’s habits, and she merely believed that the presentation of the weapon may invoke an emotion, any emotion, that would give the warrior insight to Sabeen’s innocence or guilt. “Do you not recognize this blade?” The warrior was still, unmoving as she studied the other woman with a careful, calculating gaze.

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#5
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She was still uncertain as to the purpose of this small talk. The black woman didn't seem the type to mince words for the sake of conversation. There had to be a purpose behind this, but at the same time, why were they dancing around the point, then? Sabeen nodded in response to Cwmfen's question. 'Yes.' She said, as the Adonis started to speak again, this time asking about Svara. She paused for a moment, trying to remember the last time she'd seen her daughter. At the packmeeting. She'd seemed fine then, a little put off by her presence but still healthy. But clearly something had happened. And furthermore, it was apparent Sabeen was being blamed, even if she hadn't a clue what had happened. 'I haven't seen her since the packmeeting. I don't know what happened.' Her voice was tight, if only because she assumed her accusation was linked to her history with the girl.

The blade was the next thing shown to her. She allowed her eyes to fall shut. 'It's familiar,' she admitted, trying to place it. Oh- of course! 'Svara brandished it at me when I was accepted. Tried to threaten me out of joining.' Yes, that had been it. She opened her eyes again, closely studying the blade. It was bloodied, with a strangely familiar smell. The dress-clad lady frowned and lifted her gaze back to the intense white eyes of the other. 'If I may ask, what's happened?'




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#6
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500+


The woad marked female merely gave a curt nod in understanding to the mahogany woman. So this was Svara’s mother. It was strange, the female thought suddenly, that so many families were being reunited within these Dahlian boarders. And yet, most reunions were met with dislike, even hate. And the warrior could not understand it. To the warrior, it was as if the enemy had been lead in through the front door. And these slow parasites of hate and fear were slowly eating at the joints of the pack’s being. And yet, despite this the pack continued to hold strong. And this was yet again strange to the warrior, almost miraculous.


But the woman continued to be confused, her words slow, cautious, as if not quite understanding. When the wheat eyed woman claimed that she had last seen her daughter at the pack meeting, the woad woman could not understand. “Haven’t you?” And that alto melody was quiet, questioning. What was going on? And the warrior could not know that the female had been under the influence of narcotics, for she herself had never used such poisons of the body, and it had never occurred to the warrior that such a thing were the case here. All she knew was that something was not quite right. And she could not place it. She sensed no immediate deception within the female before her, but she planned to find out.


Those wheat hued eyes beheld the weapon before her, and the woad banded ears pricked forward as Sabeen admitted to its familiarity. “It should be,” the black fae said quietly, but her tone was ambiguous. Cwmfen fell silent as the older woman closed her eyes to reminisce upon the blade’s origin. But time at which the other claimed to have seen it was not what the warrior was looking for. Time, it seemed, continued to regress for Sabeen Thames, or else it did not exist. The female did not know which it was. The Adonis was silent for a moment, her head tilted slightly as her fierce gaze met those wheat coloured eyes. Her gaze was heavy, calculating, questioning in her silence. That feeling that something was not quite right continued to itch at the warrior’s intuition, and her senses were heightened as if she were walking into a battlefield. But finally the female broke that silence, and the alto melody was sung roughly.


“Can you still not recall, Sabeen Thames?” The white orbs were unrelenting as they held the gaze of the other with a fierce ease. For a moment, that gaze was broken as her eyes flickered down and up the mother’s form, covered with the scent of her daughter’s blood. The same blood that was upon the blade. The hand that held the weapon fell to her side. “She was attacked within the Dahlian boarders—by a Dahlian. Her sight has been taken and shall never be regained.” There was a pause as if the Warrior Adonis were expecting something. “Do you not smell what I so keenly smell upon you?”


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#7
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Irritation was beginning to crawl from the back of her mind to the forefront, as the questioning of the warrior woman continued. Hadn't Sabeen made it perfectly clear she wasn't aware of what had happened? She frowned and crossed her arms. 'No.' The dressclad lady still wasn't aware of what had happened to her daughter or where she had been recently. Her mind crawled backwards but only landed at the meeting, then at Firefly's, where she had been informed that Svara didn't live. She went forward and landed at the needles in her veins, the rush and fall, Leroy, Deuce, her ficklest friend.

Lost, trying to place herself, she missed Cwmfen's next words, but they weren't necessary. Not until the blue-marked woman answered her own questions, sounding rough, or as rough as she could. Her eyes narrowed at the implication of the other's sentence, but she remained silent, wanting to hear the answer; the answer that came gave her a shock. Blinded? That she hadn't expected. Dropping her arms to her sides, Sabeen fixed her even gaze on the warrior's white eyes. 'I don't like what you're insinuating. I smell nothing.' She looked down to the dagger again, coming to the conclusion that it was the weapon. And furthermore, if you're implying that that-' she pointed to the weapon, '-was the weapon used against Svara, I can assure you I have not touched it.'

She drew her shoulders back, raising her head defiantly at her implied charges. 'Let me elucidate this to you: I have not touched my daughter in any way. Nor have I any desire to even see her, let alone seek her out and harm her.' It was always the past, past, past, but she hated the past and she hated her child and wanted a clean slate. Never would happen, though. She thought briefly of Svara but felt no sadness for the injured child. It could, after all, safely be assumed that the witch had invoked whoever to place that attack on her. Sabeen stood before Cwmfen, oblivious to the truth but ready to die defending her 'innocence'.


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#8
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Sorry for the wait! I’ve had a lot going on this week, OnO
500+



The warrior’s resolve was not phased, and she seemed unmoved by the other female’s agitation. If there was one thing that war could teach, it was self control and control of the mind. The female could harden herself, could distance herself on the outside. It was the inside, the soul, that could not be changed, and that flowed and worked like a great river of time, that thought and felt. And while the black fae was unmoved upon the surface, within she was confused. Yet, she never became uncertain about what had happened. The wolf was a warrior and followed instinct. She had scented this female’s scent, had heard Svara’s subtle diction, and she now saw and scented the blood that remained unwashed upon the wheat eyed fae. What bothered the warrior was that this mother did not seem to comprehend what had happened. The quality of another’s character was always in question to the female who could not allow herself to trust too deeply. And her confidence in the brown hued fae as a member was slowly fading.


“You infer incorrectly,” the alto melody countered, continually tranquil as it sang. The white orbs remained unwavering. “This weapon was used against you.” She paused for a moment as she remembered the blood upon the earth. Svara had not used the weapon as it was intended, but against her mother, at least in the defense of herself it had been used incorrectly. While the warrior was sure that Svara had been able to provoke her mother with that incessant sound that was a voice, it gave the other no excuse for the behavior and results of that behavior. “There is still blood upon it, and there is still blood upon you.” The female sniffed the air again, and she knew that the scent of the blood was faint and perhaps indiscernible. Through the night, it had mingled with Sabeen’s own scent and the scent of sleep. Svara’s essence still remained, but it was not strong—perhaps even questionable. To the warrior, however, none of it was questionable. What had happened was indubitable.


A snarl was ready upon her maw, but it did not make itself manifest. “Watch your tone, Filix,” and the alto melody was rough as she spoke, holding darker tones of silver. “What has happened to Svara is very clear to me; what I have found leads me to you. You are in no place to so challenge me.” The warrior very much disliked disrespect. Even if a superior were to say something incorrectly, it was proper to simply accept and counter later, when proof could be openly and readily obtained. Currently, Sabeen had nothing while Cwmfen had even the weapon that held her blood, had seen the girl that had lost her sight. Then in a quieter voice, as if Cwmfen were thinking to herself, she said, “The Truth will make itself known in due time.” The woad marked fae did not believe in coincidence, and she believed that events occurred for a reason. Perhaps this was not Sabeen’s time to accept what had happened. But the Adonis knew that such a time would come.

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#9
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Sabeen knew she had overstepped a line, somehow, but she was too stubborn to cede her will. She was becoming flustered, angry, careless, her mask of perpetual politeness slipping to reveal the conniving and angry core. Perhaps the only good thing to her name at that moment was her sincere and honest belief in her innocence as the bluemarked warrior accused her of crimes she had no knowledge of. Cwmfen corrected her, and Sabeen paused, narrowing her eyes. 'I think I would know if I was wounded recently,' she spoke, attempting to even out her tone again. Inches from her lower jaw was the gash in question, still angry but clean. This Sabeen knew did exist but she did not believe it to be recent, thinking she had reopened an old wound.

Her anger had, in turn, angered the woman. The lady drew back, ears lying flat. By giving her accuser reason to dislike her, Sabeen had already sealed her fate. Nevertheless she would preserver. 'I apologize, Adonis,' The words were soft and under her breath, but her eyes were still filled with anger. She turned away completely, the weight of the day pulling on her shoulders, stress lines pressing into the skin hidden beneath her brown fur. 'I do not wish to discuss this further, for it is making me unsettled.' Sabeen glanced back to Cwmfen and frowned sharply. 'I am innocent. Maybe one day you will be convinced of the truth.' Speaking those words, the brown woman turned fully and began to walk away, leaving slowly enough that the other could pull her back to speak if she wished. Sabeen would return to her cabin, and stay there until they'd accepted the truth: that Sabeen Thames had not touched her daughter.


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