04-02-2009, 09:47 PM
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Slight PP with the thrown spear at the end; let me know if you want it changed, ^=^
500+
Cwmfen breathed deeply, closing her eyes as she sat leaning against the tree. With each breath, she released the stress that had built up in her body. The tension in her muscles did indeed fall away, loosed into the cool air that carried away her worries. And that incessant pain seemed to lessen if only marginally, allowing her mind the room to think more clearly. And the black fae listened to the silence, audible now for the absence of that ceaseless throbbing. She listened to the whisper of the tree as the wind played with its bare limbs, the soft creaking of its trunk as the old creature struggled against the air and time, the soft movement of the water that traveled up its core to feed and nourish the life. And, as she listened closely, the warrior could hear its song, just as she could hear the song of her sword, of her bow, and of her spear. Just as she could hear the song of war as it flowed through her body. But it was silent now, silent and dormant for as long as it would take for those wounds to heal. But the tree’s cool bark soothed the long scar that marred the length of her back, and for once it was quieted.
But the peace was disrupted by a sound. The woad bound ears flickered forward as the white orbs opened. She turned to watch the place in which the couple had left, knowing that they had not gone far. It was almost as if there was a quarrel, and she thought she could hear someone growling. A soft growl of warning came from her own throat as she pushed herself to standing, ignoring the sudden flash of pain that cut through her body. The black fae moved quickly, and it was as if she bore no wounds. Stepping with a fluidity from the gentle roots of the tree, her left hand shot out to grab the spear. And the weapon leapt with life at her touch, singing with that strange song that filled her mind with a strange peace. Her maw waved once in the air as she scented their trail before she was moving again, her steps silent without a whisper of passing.
And what Cwmfen found did not please her at all. The tranquility of the warrior’s face was broken as she let loose a snarl that charged through the cool air like a wild cat. But there the snarl was mostly for effect, for the warrior, trained in tranquility, was incapable of great rage. With a great effort, the warrior threw the singing spear with perfect form and aim, the leaf shaped blade branded with the Raven cutting the air with ease as it flew with great speed. The blade bit the male, cutting ever so slightly his upper arm that held Svara. A warning. But it had drawn blood. With a satisfying sound, the spear landed in the forest floor, angled perfectly for its flight. But the effort had not been without consequence. The woad marked fae gripped her right arm, for the shoulder had not been ready for that effort, torn by the jaws and claws of that red-eyed coyote. But it was of little consequence. “Do you not know, dog?” And the alto melody was calm as her face was smoothed once more. She stood in challenge to the other as she replied to the last of his words, the only words that she had heard of the argument. “One is to never touch another in anger.”
500+
Cwmfen breathed deeply, closing her eyes as she sat leaning against the tree. With each breath, she released the stress that had built up in her body. The tension in her muscles did indeed fall away, loosed into the cool air that carried away her worries. And that incessant pain seemed to lessen if only marginally, allowing her mind the room to think more clearly. And the black fae listened to the silence, audible now for the absence of that ceaseless throbbing. She listened to the whisper of the tree as the wind played with its bare limbs, the soft creaking of its trunk as the old creature struggled against the air and time, the soft movement of the water that traveled up its core to feed and nourish the life. And, as she listened closely, the warrior could hear its song, just as she could hear the song of her sword, of her bow, and of her spear. Just as she could hear the song of war as it flowed through her body. But it was silent now, silent and dormant for as long as it would take for those wounds to heal. But the tree’s cool bark soothed the long scar that marred the length of her back, and for once it was quieted.
But the peace was disrupted by a sound. The woad bound ears flickered forward as the white orbs opened. She turned to watch the place in which the couple had left, knowing that they had not gone far. It was almost as if there was a quarrel, and she thought she could hear someone growling. A soft growl of warning came from her own throat as she pushed herself to standing, ignoring the sudden flash of pain that cut through her body. The black fae moved quickly, and it was as if she bore no wounds. Stepping with a fluidity from the gentle roots of the tree, her left hand shot out to grab the spear. And the weapon leapt with life at her touch, singing with that strange song that filled her mind with a strange peace. Her maw waved once in the air as she scented their trail before she was moving again, her steps silent without a whisper of passing.
And what Cwmfen found did not please her at all. The tranquility of the warrior’s face was broken as she let loose a snarl that charged through the cool air like a wild cat. But there the snarl was mostly for effect, for the warrior, trained in tranquility, was incapable of great rage. With a great effort, the warrior threw the singing spear with perfect form and aim, the leaf shaped blade branded with the Raven cutting the air with ease as it flew with great speed. The blade bit the male, cutting ever so slightly his upper arm that held Svara. A warning. But it had drawn blood. With a satisfying sound, the spear landed in the forest floor, angled perfectly for its flight. But the effort had not been without consequence. The woad marked fae gripped her right arm, for the shoulder had not been ready for that effort, torn by the jaws and claws of that red-eyed coyote. But it was of little consequence. “Do you not know, dog?” And the alto melody was calm as her face was smoothed once more. She stood in challenge to the other as she replied to the last of his words, the only words that she had heard of the argument. “One is to never touch another in anger.”
