[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Backdated to the night of April 1st or sometime April 2nd, I think...
500+
The house seemed empty. Cwmfen lingered within those walls that seemed so foreign to her. The white orbs moved about her, wandering in the shadows created by the ancient remnant of man. The house of Bane Kiles held a welcoming air, and yet it was not the welcome that she was familiar with. Somehow if felt different than the welcome she had felt while invited at Mew’s house those many moons ago. The black fae wasn’t sure what made such a difference; perhaps it was that she was within the house of a man that she knew so well and yet so little. And the darkness in the corners that seemed so harsh almost blinded the woman as her gaze lingered there; she could not see behind that darkness and yet she felt that she knew what was there. These walls were so familiar and yet so foreign to her; the warrior could not help but feel that old claustrophobia that crept upon her when in such an environment.
Cwmfen was sitting upon the same couch that she had sat upon when she had first been brought here. Her thoughts lingered momentarily upon the night that the black wolf had saved her life; she did not know in what way that gift could have been repaid and it seemed that she had come to him with but another to labor over. But when the woman had found the coyote, she could not simply allow Death to take him from her—as if he was hers to take, she thought with a quiet laugh. In the least, she had felt that it had not been Onus’ time to die, and so she had brought him to a place where she knew he could receive that which would save him. With a quiet sigh of troubles within her soul that she could not yet understand, the white orbs looked around as she listened to the silence of the house—such an unnatural silence. Briefly, she wondered where the black male had gone, but she would not keep him from his personal business. For a moment, the woman was still.
But then she rose. There was a quiet restlessness about her; it had not been long since Bane had completed his work upon the coyote’s wound, but she was already curious about how he felt. Silently, with a grace that almost transcended the earthly, the woad marked woman passed through the house, seeking the room in which Onus now stayed. She was quiet mostly because a sudden tentative unease passed through her; perhaps she would disturb him...? When she reached the door, the woman paused, the white gaze lingering upon the handle. She hesitated there for several more moments before she found the will to grasp the opening device. With great care the door was opened as she created a crack. The warrior pushed her maw through it, the white orbs quickly scanning the room as she sought the prone man upon the bed. He wore nothing now save for that cloth that bound his eyes; she had tended to the wet and bloodied clothes herself; but unable to see those eyes and too far to hear his breathing, she was not sure whether the man was asleep or not. "Onus...?" the alto melody called quietly, almost tentatively, and suddenly the warrior felt strange.
[/html]
[html]
After the dark man had finished attending to his wound and had lead him to a room with a bed Onus had finally taken the painkillers. He did all he could to avoid putting any chemicals into his body, but he thought they might help him get the rest that he so needed. If he didn't rest than all of the medic's hard work would go to waste. So he had laid down and closed his hidden eyes while his mind slipped into unconsciousness. Sleep he did, though it was an unrest kind. The man had been transported back to his childhood. Back to the first time he had almost died.
His mother sunk her teeth into his small form and tore his flesh, let his blood weep from him. He didn't understand. He hadn't done anything wrong had he? He was a good boy wasn't he? Why was she hurting him like this? The boy cried and screamed as his mother's assault continued. He felt it all over again. Every bite. Every cut. Every tear. He felt his fragile mind once again cave in on itself, becoming the black hole that sucked out all his emotions. "Why?" he whispered in his sleep, almost a whine. He didn't understand, and it hurt so much.
Unconsciously the man had clutched at the sheets under him, his claws ripping holes them. His mind was assaulted with pain both real and fake which awakened him. The aching in his shoulder had increased due to his muscles tightening. Grimacing he relaxed his left arm and tentatively felt it with his right hand. It had been a long time since he had felt so much pain. He was lucky to have lived though. Now just as the last time. He heaved a sigh that was lost to the silence as his right arm returned to lay in its place. He was about to slip back into his fitful slumber when that soft voice called his name.
His head turned on the pillow to look at her, her head stuck through the crack in the door. "Cwmfen..." The man's voice was still quite weak and had lost some of its roughness. It was clear that he did not reject her company. He actually welcomed it. The woad woman would not torture him as his mind was.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
Why? That single, uttered word was quiet, distant, and yet it cut through the air with the potency of a white-hot blade. It struck the woman and she fell quite still—her soul fell still. That voice was strange, the inflexion was strange—foreign as it was utilized by that voice. Such specific tones she had never heard from that male’s song, but she could not recognize why it impacted her so. And then she thought, perhaps she had heard something other than the voice, something she could actually recognize. Perhaps she had heard the pain and the confusion, the hurt and the dying. And perhaps it was this, this presence of something beyond the mere words, that struck her. Onus was a male that displayed very little; indeed he had expressed to her that he did not get emotionally involved, even in his work. There may have been anger and perhaps even hate, but she knew that for this man, such emotions were not the same as those felt by others. She herself was almost incapable of extreme emotion, and yet she suspected that what he felt was different from her own as well. And yet she had heard otherwise in that whispered question.
She though, Perhaps he sleeps, for the tensed movements did not initially resemble the movements of one awake—not quite anyway. Such differences were subtle, but the woman knew how to see them. When she was about to withdraw, he called her by name. The black fae paused, but his voice drew her in. Silently she entered the room, closing the door carefully behind her as if in doing so she would keep out that which may trouble him. Her fluid movements were slow, an instinctive response to the wounded creature she approached; the wolf within her knew that sudden movements could be taken as a threat, and that subconscious wolf did not wish to be recognized as such. The black claws clicked occasionally upon the surface upon which she walked, unused to treading upon the floor. At last she came to the bedside, lowering herself to sit upon its edge—not too close, not too far—the woad tipped tail wrapping about her hips.
Tentatively, a hand reached for his wound. The fingers that lingered above it could feel the heat of that painful, angry tear, could feel the pain that pulsed beneath it. Many things passed over those white orbs, dull in the darkness, for there was much that could have been said to the male and yet the woman could not express that which she now thought. Finally, that hand simply fell to his shoulder, her fingers almost cold against his fur. "Onus, I..." The alto melody faded for a moment as her orbs moved from the wound to his face, searching for that hidden gaze. "I wondered if you required anything," she said instead, but there were many things that hid behind those words, hiding like the light from the clouds. The eyes flickered to the torn sheets and she said quietly, "What horrors haunt you?" her voice almost indiscernible from the silence. But she could not penetrate the darkness of this man on her own.
[/html]
[html]
He watched as she slowly entered the room. He understood that she was more feral than he had ever been in his entire life, and therefore followed the instincts and protocol of their wild heritage. That was not to say that he didn't understand such things. He actually understood them quite well. He was just good a suppressing them unless they were useful or necessary. The coyote didn't understand how she could have been born of such a creature as the one who had done this to him. The thoughts and memories that haunted him might seem little compared to what she might suffer.
As he felt her weight on the bed it was more comforting than he could have imagined. At this moment he was at his most weak. His most vulnerable. Usually he reacted to such things by hiding himself away, cutting off all contact. But for some reason he didn't mind her being there. He trusted her. Onus had never really trusted anyone, but he trusted Cwmfen. Her hand on his shoulder was gentle. It was an odd sensation. The only physical contact he was used to was that of battle. It was all so foreign to him. Everything about her and everything she made him feel. The fact she made him feel anything was unbelievable in and of itself.
A thousand thoughts ran behind those spotless eyes, even in the dark they somehow shone. His ears strained forward to catch her words, but they drifted off and then she said something that obviously had not been what she first thought of. "No...just rest. Though you don't have to leave." What he really meant was he didn't want her to leave. Though even now such a thing was hard for him to say. He never told anyone of his past. Yet somehow he felt he owed it to her. At least part of it. If it weren't for her he'd be dead in the rain. "Horrors from long ago. From first time I almost died."
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
A touch could be just as powerful as a voice, as the silence. But a touch was tangible, immediate, and for some reason the warrior had felt the need to make that contact, to make that connection with the man whom she shared this proximity. Her touch did not seem to invoke a response, but perhaps with this male it was the same as the response she would have received with another. And so she did not withdraw her touch, allowing herself to linger there. In the silence she could feel him watching her, and his gaze held the same quality that it had before. And she liked the silence that allowed her to see him. And yet the silence was not enough—it did not penetrate enough. Once more, as she sought his face, she wondered at what was hidden behind that cloth; she had not removed it along with the rest of his garments, remembering how he had stopped her from seeing when they had first met. But she had no right to ask that of him, to ask him to see. To the woman it was understood that she was to him as a foot soldier to a general: simply another face.
Just rest; she had known the answer to her own question. A light smile flickered across her lips. She was being foolish. She should not have bothered him. But before she could move he told her that she did not have to leave. The smile completed itself, gracing her maw as she offered that gesture in response to his words: Alright, I’ll stay. But that smile disappeared, melting back into the darkness when he spoke again. For a moment, she listed only to the sound of his voice in the silence. And then she heard the words. The black fae did not wish to pry, but she knew that the male would not continue if he did not believe it to be necessary to share this information with her. "It must have been profound to survive the past." It was strange then, for this creature was created by the past; Death was a life-altering experience. And yet her most recent brush with death had not rendered her any different and it worried her. While Onus was created by the past, what he did in the present created the future; although he used violence to serve Justice, it was a better future that he sought to make. If it were horrors he recalled from the past, those horrors had not created a monster.
Once long ago, she too had met Death. But how she had survived she did not know; the past slowly became a jumbled mess of time, but it was not time that mattered and she could remember what was to be learned. "My father brings Death with him," she said suddenly, her voice quiet. It was strange perhaps to refer to the crow wolf as ‘my father’, but the lack of humanity within him did not change the fact that she had been made by the seed of his loins. "He did not know how fragile the body of a whelp can be." Her gaze, which had wandered to the wall before her, retracing the path of her life in that empty space, returned to the coyote. There was silence again before she returned to a previous thought. "I did not wish for him to bring this upon you." The white orbs of the warrior considered the male, a strange curiosity flickering in those frosty orbs. Her hand moved away from him, returning to rest upon her thigh. She wondered then if it were the fear of her father that moved her to such emotions or if it were something else.
[/html]
[html]
She had smiled at him. Smiled. How could he make anyone smile? He didn't even know if his lips knew how to form one. They had once, when he was a carefree babe. Before everything had changed. Onus didn't understand why she cared about him. Nobody had ever cared about him. His mother may have acted like it for a while, but even she hadn't been able to keep it up. The man that had saved him might have cared. He still couldn't believe she had actually pulled him from death's doorstep to bring him to help. He had seen in then as he saw it now. It wasn't fake. He didn't know what to think or how to act in response to such kindness.
Perhaps it was profound. It had made him who he was today. Yet it all could have ended so differently. That stranger could have just as easily not happened upon the scene or simply not cared. Then all he would have been was a murdered pup. No one to take notice. No one to care. The world would have gone on without him. He liked to think that he had lived so he could fulfill this purpose. The man found it hard to find that much meaning in the events of the world though. Her words of her father surprised him. "More we have in common." Though it was far from a good thing. "My mother tried to kill me when I was just a child. Would have if a stranger hadn't come by and ran her off." The fact that she had gone through something similar made it easier for him to share.
Yet again the fact that Cwmfen actually gave a shit about him shone through. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps she was some sort of angel. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he felt his stone heart cracking. "I know." It was not her fault. The two men meeting was inevitable. If it hadn't happened now it would have later. "It couldn't be stopped. I cannot walk away from something like him." The next time he wouldn't either. Next time he knew it would end it death. Whether it was his or Corvus' only time would tell.
It may have been rude to ask, but he couldn't keep the question to himself any longer. "Why did you save me?"
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
His mother. This information from the past that was being shared with the black fae clarified the masked coyote’s personality. She did not doubt that his emotional distancing was a survival technique, one that would serve him well; when his opponents could not read him, could not see what it was next that would happen, could not see what drove him to do what it was that he did, the coyote would conquer his opponent mentally and physically. However, the lack of a mother’s nurturing touch, indeed her touch would have been fatal to him, explained too his lack of emotion. While intuitive, emotion was also a thing learned. Perhaps the male did not become emotionally involved because he never learned how, or perhaps he was afraid, even, that what his mother had done would happen again. Yet—the woman thought that perhaps she analyzed too much. Perhaps what his mother had done had simply been a catalyst for what it was that the male now did. Perhaps his character was simply that need to be something more than a creature, to be a symbol, and survive.
For a moment, the woman wondered if the stranger that had saved him had lingered. She wondered if that stranger had cared for him, and she wondered how he had survived. But then another question arose stronger, placed with priority within her throat by that curiosity of this coyote. For a moment, the woman was silent, wondering is such a question were rightfully hers to ask. Truly, she did not know, but she could not let the question go unspoken. "What moved your mother to do that...?" Why? At first the woad marked warrior thought that she asked the question to better understand herself, to understand her father and why he was the way that he was. But then she realized that this was not so. She realized that she asked the question because she wanted to understand this coyote, to understand Onus. At times she felt that he were so close, or that she was so close to understanding. Within the simply uttered, I know, the woman thought that she had heard something more. But the next words made her believe otherwise.
She had simply nodded in response. The woman had known from the moment she had discovered that it had been Corvus who had nearly killed Onus that her father had bitten off more than he could handle. But she wondered who would prevail. In the stories, the Champions of Justice always won, but the warrior was not so sure that it worked that way in reality. She had seen otherwise so many times.... That question. Her head turned, almost abruptly, to face him, the white orbs once more seeking the place where his eyes should be. For a moment she was silent. Many times she had sought the answer to that question. It had not been because she had known him, considering him her friend. "Because the world cannot afford to lose someone like you," the alto melody replied at length. Yes, what he did she had never seen before, and the world required the purging that he gave. But perhaps that was not it either. Unlike the coyote, the Dahlian Warrior was not selfless or altruistic. Then almost tentatively, she said, "Because I did not want to lose you." And she knew it to be true.
[/html]
[html]
Wow, she nailed Onus right on the head. And you said it more eloquently than I ever could <3
It had been a survival technique. After his mother had attacked him the boy had shut down. Whether it had been purposeful or something had simply broken inside him was hard to say. Especially at such a young age. The man who had saved him had been nice. He had tended to his wounds and helped the child grow back to health. But Onus had never let him get close. But the man had never really tried either. Perhaps he understood what had happened to the small boy. That he had retreated so far into himself that no one would ever reach him. If he didn't let anyone in, no one could hurt him like that again. No one could hold him back. No one could stop him. It was why he was so good at doing what he did. When emotions were out of the picture and he had no ties to anyone, he could do whatever was necessary. The scum of the underworld had never faced anything like him before.
The thought that he was unable to display emotion was right as well though. As much as the man tried not to think about it and deny it, it was true. It was one of the reasons he avoided people in general. They were all emotional creatures and it was something he could not understand. Something he could not participate in. That why he was almost afraid around Cwmfen. She made him feel. He didn't know what word to put to those feelings, but it was something. More than he had felt ever since the attack. It scared him. Yet still he trusted her. Usually he might have wanted to run away. Now he couldn't though. He had to face this.
Then the question came. Somehow he knew it would. Telling her the answer scared him as well. There was only one other creature he had seen with his eyes, and that was the monster who had created her. Who hunted her. Onus didn't know if that would change how she saw him. Still, if she was going to find out, he wanted it to come from him. Not from that bastard who shared a pack with her. "Because of my eyes." As soon as those words had left his lips his good hand went to undo the tie to his eye wrap. Lids closed over those dark pools as his fingers took the cloth away. Then they opened. He looked at her unfiltered for the first time and wondered if she would hate and fear him too.
Her response to his question was logical he supposed. While she might not follow the same purpose he did, she at least understood what he did was for the benefit of the world. She did not want to see justice lose her servant. A satisfactory answer. So why did he feel so hollow because of it? Then she added something and his gaze shot to her's. She didn't want to lose me? Something stirred in his dead heart at that. Before he hadn't been sure, but he was now. He felt as if he should respond somehow, though not with words. His hand for a moment seemed to reach for her, but it stopped. He was lost as to what to do and this showed in those obsidian eyes.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
^=^ <2
500+
His eyes? The woad bound ears pricked forward at that statement, her head tilting indiscernibly as she considered them. And the white orbs followed the movement of his hand as it went to that cloth that bound them. There was anticipation within the she wolf as she watched—what manner of eyes were beneath that would move a mother to kill her own pup? As the cloth fell away, there was nothing—his eyes were closed. And then they opened. She rose, taking two steps back in a sudden motion. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat. Whatever it was that she anticipated, she would not have guessed that those eyes of darkness lay behind that mask. The ears swiveled back, flattening against her head as fear washed over her heart. Before her she saw not the coyote she knew, not Onus, but Corvus. In a single instant, all those memories of her pain and suffering, of her solitude, passed before her eyes, filling the shape of the being she saw before her. It was like a nightmare that had come forth into reality to swallow and to destroy her. But there were no more tears left within her for this as her heart quavered.
She exhaled, for a moment her breathing shallow, and as she inhaled it was taken in sharply, the air forced into her and yet she was unable to gather enough. The images seem to fade into the silence, melting away into the dark. The image of the crow wolf likewise dispersed to leave behind what was real. For a moment, the woman faltered as she stood there watching him, the fear flickering in her eyes. But as she stood there looking, allowing herself to rise above that fear and delve deeply into that gaze, she saw that those eyes were not like her father’s at all. They were black and filled with a darkness, but that darkness was of a different nature. The black fae felt as if she could see in this darkness, that it wasn’t blinding or consuming. She thought that she saw something there, something greater, something she could reach out and grasp. And she knew that this man was no different than he had been before, that there was nothing for her to fear. What had filled her initially was discarded behind her like the old skin of a snake.
His hand reached out to her, and she went to him, seeing the uncertainty within those eyes. And there was shame within her; she was ashamed that she had allowed herself to fear. But it had not been he that she had feared; it had been her father. Tentatively, her hand reached out to grasp him as she returned to the bed. For once the woman was uncertain, and as she held that black gaze she felt something stir within her, something that almost made her giddy. It grasped at her and she tensed up against it. And the woad warrior held herself away so that only their hands touched. Whether he was accepting her or not she could not tell, and that made her hesitate. "I’m not...pure," the alto melody whispered in the quiet night. There was no shame in that statement, but she felt that she had to say it. The man before her was a creature of goodness, one that did not fear to use whatever means necessary to purge the world of corruption. But she did not believe that she herself was free of such a thing, and she did not want him to go further than he should.
[/html]
[html]
She jumped away from him and he felt her fear fill the room. The man cringed at her reaction, closing his eyes as he saw her ears fall back. Of course. What had he expected? He held the same eyes as her terrible father. She had every reason to be afraid of such orbs. It was for this reason that he hid them. People were afraid of him, and not the ones he wanted to strike fear into. Before he had started tying the cloth around his head he had been bullied and hunted down. Woman gave him frightened looks and children tucked their tails at the sight of him. The first time they had met he had told her that the cloth was more fitting to him than what lay beneath it. Would she remember those words? Or had everything he thought he might have gained just come undone?
But then suddenly she returned to the bedside and he no longer could smell and feel the fear permeate the room. He looked back up at her and felt something akin to relief. He wanted her to understand that he was not what he appeared. That that was why he hid it behind the clothes. It was to protect innocents from the fear of him. As well as protecting himself. As her hand touched his it felt warm. The touch was so delicate and light. So unlike everything he was accustomed to. Onus was treading in territory that he had never ventured before. He was as ignorant to the feelings in his chest as he was to what was going on in Cwmfen's. She wasn't pure? The man wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that. "Almost no one is," he responded.
Onus swallowed as his dark gaze held her light. "You are...one of the only people who has ever cared about me. And...I do not know...how to..." Show you I care too, was that what he was trying to say? He didn't know. He was lost and blind in the dark right now, he didn't know where to step or what to do. He tried to convey through his gaze what his mouth and brain were having trouble with. Though all he might have been showing was how lost he was. He just wanted her to understand him. She had come closer than anyone ever had, and somehow he didn't want that to stop.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
Those white orbs peered gently into those black pools. It was almost strange now to look upon the face unmasked, and for a moment the woman simply traced his features in his mind. Those eyes seemed so full of things—or perhaps those faint traces of emotion meant more to her. She saw his uncertainty, saw her own mirrored within him. But...she was not sure what that uncertainty meant; the black warrior wondered now if he was uncertain about her, if her imperfections would render her inadequate. And yet this male was not so shallow, admitting that no one was perfect. And the warrior herself was eased, the tension falling from her body. Her fingers slid deeper into his grasp as she clasped his hand almost reassuringly—but who was she reassuring? Perhaps both of the creatures required the reinforcement. Perhaps both creatures required one another as they entered that unfamiliar field.
As she lingered there, her mind tried to decipher the feelings that were running through her. She felt that sudden need to be near him, to know him more deeply and intimately than she had known anyone before. But this need was different; she felt that it was not just driven by that carnal desire that often proceeded a battle or that was simply driven by her curiosity. No, this was not the same; it was something else. But this was something that she had never felt before. It had begun as something light, like the breeze of a raven’s wing. But now she felt it more keenly as if that raven had landed on her heart, wrapping it with the warmth of its tenebrous wings. As a wolf, the black fae was drawn to physical superiority within a male, and while this male was more than capable of such physical feats, her attraction to him transcended the physical and entered the realm of the psychological. In this realm, she tread cautiously for she had often allowed the physical to rule her martial life.
The uncertainty of his gaze was mirrored in his words. The warrior smiled, a soft gesture. She wasn’t sure how to express this either, but where words failed for her, action would take over. Silently, she pulled herself upon the bed so that only her upper torso leaned upon him. Releasing her grip upon his grasp, her hands slid up to his face as she brought her maw to his. For a moment, she lingered there above them, her white gaze searching him. She wondered if he would stop her. But before she could hesitate any longer, she took the first step and kissed him. It was a slow kiss, almost tentative as she brought her lips to his. She could not help but let her gaze linger upon those eyes that moved like the night sky. And as she allowed that kiss grow more intimate, more passionate, those lunar orbs hid behind her lids, her fingers linger upon the fur of his cheek and neck, feeling his pulse beneath them.
[/html]
[html]
Onus could feel her uncertainty too, which somehow made his own more bearable. He was a confident man, always sure of himself. But that was in his mission and in battles. This was so much different. This field he was wholly unskilled and unprepared in. Knowing that he was not the only one stumbling through this encounter was a comfort. Her hand slipped more completely into his own and a sort of warm feeling settled into his chest. He increased the pressure of his grasp as well. What was this that he felt? He cared for her, that much he knew. He wanted to protect her from that beast of a father. There was more than that though. It was the "more" that was eluding him.
He had never succumb to physical urges, partially because he had never felt them before. He stopped and punished those that tried to take them from other's, but he had never experience that need. Even if he had, he knew he never would have sought out to satisfy it. It would have only been a distraction from his mission. That and it would have been letting someone close. Perhaps not emotionally, but even physically he liked to keep a distance. The vigilante doubtlessly had many enemies. Without knowing someone well he could not trust them near him, and he never trusted anyone.
Until now. Until her. Yet even now he didn't feel any sort of "need" for her body. He had just shared more with her about him and his past than he had shared with any other. That closeness that had been denied to him, both by himself and others, was suddenly staring him right in the face. He couldn't bring himself to push it away, not now when it was making him feel such good things, no matter how those things scared him. Cwmfen didn't speak in response to his muddled words, but she moved. He felt her torso on his and her face hovered so close to his as she looked into his eyes. Her hands were so light, like wings on his face. The man didn't know what she had in mind, but he soon found out.
His eyes grew wide as she pressed her lips to his in a kiss. Shock ran through him, but he didn't pull away nor did he push her away. It was soft at first, as they continued to stare into one another's eyes, but then her's closed and he felt something more behind her actions. Onus had no idea what to do, but he did kiss her back, at least as best he could. Soon his own dark orbs closed and his hand unsurely placed itself on her arm near her shoulder. He had never imagined that he would experience this. His logical side was unsure if this was a good idea, but somehow it was becoming muffled and he was less inclined to listen.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
That single movement had caught him off guard—she saw the surprise in his eyes. Her own gaze had smiled gently at him, but she did not know whether he would accept that gesture. Or perhaps he did not know how, so unfamiliar as he was with this arena of life. But as she closed her eyes, he did respond. He kissed her back, a simple kiss, a crude kiss. But the woman did not judge, requiring nothing elaborate. And the emotions excited within her as he did kiss her in return created a slow symphony in her mind. At first there had been nothing but the quiet darkness of the night. But as she held that kiss, drawing it out, so too did the melody and the colours of those tones paint themselves upon her soul. It was breathtaking. It was something that no other had invoked within her. And she held onto that kiss for a great measure of time, though time held no factor within her any longer. And as he brought his hand to touch her, her cool skin did not recoil, drawing in the warmth that touch provided. And she held that kiss...until finally she pulled away gently, her breath intermingling with his.
Those white orbs remained hidden in the dark as she was still, her maw slightly lifted as she savored the last chords that fell silent within her. Her hands fell from his face as those lunar eyes grew full, falling to his chest. The black warrior was careful to avoid agitating the wound at the base of his neck. But as she moved she lost sight of that heart beat for a moment until she finally came to rest one hand above the source. Listening to it through that touch, she felt it course through her own body, the pulse becoming one with her own. The woad marked fae lifted her gaze to the male’s eyes, a warm smile gracing her bound maw. And she thought then that she understood what it was that she felt. Love. But what she felt almost frightened her, made her unsure. And she was afraid that he may not accept her.
She could have continued, but she did not want to provoke this male. The woman understood his need to create that distance, and she did not want to ruin what was between them by throwing herself at him. And somehow, she felt that he would not, could not, receive her body. Silently, without explaining herself, the raven woman lowered herself to the bed, retiring at his side. A single hand lingered upon his chest, feeling the regulated rhythm of his heart. Perhaps he would allow her to remain with him for the night before she would have to return to Dahlia. Perhaps, if not tonight then another, he could accept her, could learn to walk in this arena with her. She didn’t want this night to end, but it was not for the Dahlian Warrior to decide. The black tipped tail flickered at her thigh, wrapping about it to hold in the warmth that the night sought to take.
[/html]
[html]
Just as the kiss was awakening something within Cwmfen, it awoke something within Onus as well. He could feel his heartbeat reverberate throughout his body. It was different from that of physical exertion though, that he knew well. The longer their kiss was drawn out the harder it beat and the more he was able to give himself up to that feeling. Actually letting himself feel this without worrying. He was letting himself get lost in this moment with her and suddenly he wasn't so afraid. Warmth spread throughout his whole body and he was able to forget his pain as well. He knew now that what he felt was more than simple affection. He cared for Cwmfen, cared for her more deeply than he thought he was capable of.
As she pulled away he softly exhaled, dark orbs opening again. Onus found himself missing the touch of her lips, even though her taste still lingered on his tongue. His breathing was deep but steady as he watched her and felt her hand move to rest over his heart. That organ that had so long been dormant was actually beating for more reasons than just to pump his blood. She smiled again, and he would have liked to return the gesture but his face was stuck in a look of awe. Instead the hand that was on her arm reached up to gently brush her cheek, as she had brushed his. The man came to the same realization that she did, and it scared him as much as it scared her. He would never reject her though. For once he had something aside from his mission. While that thought still made him nervous, he knew he didn't want to lose it.
Then her graceful form laid down next to his. He was glad that she wanted to stay and he wanted to let her know that. Carefully her wrapped his good arm around her shoulders to hold her to him. He turned his head, gently pressing his nose against her forehead. Her scent filled his mind and he squeezed her shoulder. There had been times where the man had wondered if he had been wasting his time in these lands, but he didn't think that way now. He had found something here that he had never expected. With her warmth against his side his eyes closed, and he found himself wishing that this moment wouldn't end.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
As the woman lay at his side sharing the heat of their bodies in the cool air of the sleeping house, the woman’s mind lingered upon that kiss, her eyes half lidded. The look of awe had been subtle upon his emotionless features, and she had simply smiled. She wondered now if it had been she that had invoked that awe or if it had been the kiss; she liked to think that it was the former, that she was able to excite that emotion within him as one ignited a fire. The black, woad marked fae breathed softly into his fur, her cheek still tingling with the soft touch that had brushed against her cheek. It was a different sort of touch than she was accustom to getting, somehow gentler and more reciprocated. It made her understand why these wolves made permanent a relationship by mating, but it was not as if her culture had been overly lenient in such matters. She had simply not found a male with which to devote her time. And yet she did not think that Onus would have that time; of course she could see herself be tied in such a way.... She thought it strange that she allowed such conflicting thoughts cross her mind.
Her thoughts were set aside as she looked up. His arm wrapped about her, drawing her close to him—she could hear the sound of his heart and she found it reassuring as if it were the proof that he truly lived, that this was not a Dreaming. And his nose went to her forehead, opening her third eye. The black warrior exhaled softly even as he inhaled, and she found that gentle squeeze reassuring. There was something soothing about it, something secure. For once the crows and ravens of the other world were held at bay, warded off by the presence of the coyote against her. Her body relaxed, and that instinct that dictated her survival knew that she was at the mercy of his jaws. But her mind knew that she had nothing to fear from him. One hand went to grip his good shoulder as if she feared that he would melt away; it was strange how vulnerable love made one feel. In those silent moments as she lay there beside him, the warrior cleared her mind, listening simply to the rhythm of his heart and breathing simply the scent of the male.
After a good measure of time had passed (or had it been mere moments?), the woman shifted, the white gaze looking up at him. When she spoke, her voice was quiet as if taking care to not disturb the quiet of the night. "I plan to return to Dahlia in the morning," the soft alto murmured, a strange and ambiguous smile upon that maw. She was not sure why she was telling him or why it mattered. She was not even sure if he had even expected otherwise. But even as the words left her jaws, she thought that she felt the first traces of what one might call ‘regret’. The blue marked tail waved once in her uncertainty as her white orbs strayed to his wound. "I at least wanted to make sure that you would live." As a warrior, she knew that she would witness more deaths than those that had been witnessed in her past. She just didn’t want it to be him.
[/html]
[html]
It was her that amazed him. Her and what she could do to him. Onus had never met anyone like Cwmfen nic Graine. Their relationship had started as a respectful one between two warriors and now it had grown into something so much more. For a man who had never felt such things for anyone, he had been consumed by his feelings for the woad woman unbelievably fast. Perhaps it was just part of that power that she held over him. She understood him so easily, it almost seemed effortless on her part. For someone who was constantly misunderstood that did a great deal. She had awakened his stone heart, at least when it came to her, and that was a magic about her that he would never fully understand. The man felt somewhat guilty, for he could not give himself wholly. He would always be devoted to his mission for justice, but if she could accept that, he would give her what was left. It would be up to her though. He could not ask her to make such a sacrifice.
Laying there beside her, Onus felt more calm than perhaps he ever had. He was constantly vigilant, but the combination of his weakened state and what the two were sharing had even subdued that. Once he was healed he would make sure to fulfill his promise to her. He would do his best to hunt down Corvus before the man could lay a hand on her. Thankfully his feelings for the dark lady went hand in hand with his pursuit of stomping out evil. Silently he wondered if he would ever be forced to choose between the two. He sincerely hoped he would never have to make such a decision and tried to push that concern from his mind. As she gripped his shoulder he whispered to her. "I'm not going anywhere."
Inky eyes looked down into her two perfect pearls. While he knew that she would need to return to her packland he couldn't help but wish that she wouldn't. He didn't like the thought of her around that brown brute. The man said nothing of those thoughts though. He was not the preaching type and she was skilled and intelligent enough to protect herself. "Of course," was all he said. Softly he nodded his head against her fur. "I will. Thanks to you and that man." Pride did not keep him from paying his respects where they were due. Especially to her.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
While I’m taking a break, ^=^;; Maybe we should end here and begin the next one?
500+
The woman’s mind involuntarily wandered into the memories of the near past. She tried to understand, and yet she could not. Corvus Vendetta. Why did she fear him so deeply? She could not explain it. She could not explain why she could do nothing about it. The crow wolf should have simply been another enemy, and indeed she saw him that way. And yet, there was something that had been placed deep within her, a black seed that stuck to the walls of her soul, that made her think otherwise, that told her he was unconquerable, invincible, that told her he was the bane of her existence. He would be the one thing that would destroy her, and it would not be her body but her soul that would be destroyed. For the black warrior, the soul was very precious, the most valuable thing that she possessed, for she bore no thing that could not be replaced. And yet, the idea that he would somehow crush that immortal entity did cause that fear to flicker in her heart.
Those whispered words broke through those darkened thoughts, and she could not help but breath that sigh of relief. The black fae did not doubt that she could live without him—she had done so already, and she did not believe in that kind of love. The black fae knew, however, that love for her would be rare, that there would be only one love within her life. Something with such a rarity was too precious to lose. Like her soul, the loss of this man did make her afraid.... Cwmfen pushed her nose into Onus’ fur as wolves do to one another; it was a sign of affection, and a soft smile touched her lips. She thought suddenly how strange it was that she should find love here, in him. But Geneva, she remembered suddenly, had explained the concept of love once long ago on a winter night. Then she had not understood it, had not thought that she was capable of such an extreme emotion. And yet she lay next to a man who made her feel so strange, and that emotion gripped her softly, gently. She felt that here, the black arm of Corvus could not penetrate.
As he returned her gaze, the Dahlian Adonis allowed the smile to move her eyes. The black pools of the coyote seemed so different now, as if she could understand them, could see and feel them. They were not the same as those empty eyes of Corvus Vendetta. The eyes of Onus were dark, but they did not hold evil, and they were not empty. That regret once more tickled her heart, but she knew that all good things were transitory. It only made such pleasures sweeter, more precious. The black tipped tail traced the edge of the bed as she smiled up at him. As she allowed the silence of the night to become instilled within her, she could not help but feel this strange peace that sung differently in her soul.
[/html]
|
