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Let’s backdate this to the afternoon/evening of the 12th of May, if that’s okay, ^=^ Also, I wasn’t sure if you wanted Ril’o in lupus or optime form, so I tried to make it ambiguous, ^=^
500+
The woad marked fae had traveled silently from Sankor’s den. Her mind lingered upon what was said, but she was concerned with what had not been said. Indeed, it had been the first time that she had been engaged in an argument with a packmember. The female was not accustom to partaking such things, and often her disputes were settled physically, as was seen especially with the loner Brennt. As of late, the black fae had believed herself to be socially improving, her efforts made more prominent with her promotion to Adonis and her need to respect Cercelee’s choice. But her inability to handle the sudden rebukes made by the mahogany male had made her believe otherwise. For a moment, the warrior wondered where her shortcoming lie, but, as was expected, she did not know. And yet, despite this, there was not necessarily a sadness within the woman. There was simply a calm curiosity, though she did not deny that he had caused her recoil a little bit further into that solitude.
The warrior paused within the open fields of her packlands. From that swell of the earth, she could see the ocean and the light moving across the heavens as night approached. Sitting upon the grass, the warrior simply watched the world, reveling in that soft song that sang within her soul. Sunset was beautiful because of that song, but the colours painted across the world was not lesser in beauty. And the world was made silent as it too watched this single, common, and yet amazing spectacle. The woman thought of Onus, a creature who violently sought retribution upon those who created blackness and tainted the world. He was quiet, withdrawn, skilled in what he did and oblivious to the pains of the body. And yet she had fallen in love with that creature who traveled through the city. It was strange, but the woman did not think that it was unlikely—he was many things with which she was intrigued. What had been unlikely was the strength with which she felt for him. Love was a strong emotion, and once it had not been a part of her emotional needs, for warriors must travel that middle way just as Onus traveled that extreme, almost empty path. It was strange that they had been united in such a way. His scent had begun to fade from her fur, but not from her soul.
The woman rose. Perhaps it was time to return to her den, to sleep beneath the great tree that watched over that place of sleep. Tomorrow she thought that she would set out once more into the world, to continue her patrol that aided in the protection of the pack. But there was also the matter of Palindrome, of whose whereabouts she knew not. And nobody seemed to know where the pup had been. Silently, fluidly, no longer troubled by the scars that tugged painfully at her body, the woman moved back towards the forest. Before she had stepped into the shadows of the trees, the warrior paused, her woad bound ears pressing forward. She heard another approach, and she turned to see, a quiet tranquility within her eyes and that soft smile upon her maw.
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