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The woman felt a gratitude for his patient work upon her. He was thorough and his touch was gentle. He was gentle as he always was with her. The sting of the liquid with the strong scent became an incessant drone upon her skin. She faded in and out of consciousness, but that shallow breathing never seemed to change, retaining that faint rhythm that would have been extinguished had he not arrived. His voice broke softly through her heavy mind, his touch upon her leg so gentle that it could have been the touch of a cool spring breeze. When he cleaned it, however, she flinched, her body jumping at his touch. Her eyes were opened, looking up at the ceiling as she clenched her jaws, struggling to keep her body still. But it was not his touch from which she recoiled. She recoiled from the memory of her father’s brutal body against hers. A breathed whine escaped her as he finished, the warrior’s body relaxing but left more drained than it had been.
She fell into darkness once more and pulled herself out, watching with her failing vision as he cleansed his own wounds. Slowly, silently, the woman wondered how much he had been injured. He had poured the liquid upon his arms and shoulders. The warrior thought that her father would have returned to the older wound upon his neck. As she struggled to form the thoughts that worried for the coyote, her consciousness once more fell into darkness. Onus had returned to her side and was speaking to her once more. Her mind held on to his voice, for he was the only one that she had. Her body was tired, and her skin twitched only occasionally as he worked upon her leg. As he moved to her neck, holding her, she turned her head into his hand, closing her eyes at the quiet emotion that moved through her. She breathed in his scent but could not open her eyes anymore. Against he sharp pain that was so near to her mind, she breathed him in, feeling his touch and his warmth and was at peace.
He bandaged her and brought her water once more. The white orbs sought his eyes briefly before weariness forced them shut. Her mind did not get pulled into the darkness, however. She listened without sight to the male’s quiet movement. The woad warrior felt safe here with him, able to put her mind to rest. Her mind faded into the darkness once more as he dressed his own wounds. She should have been able to help him, she thought, because he had given her so much and had not thanked him, had now shown him how much of a difference he had made. She had caused him only grief, and she had had only weakness with which to hinder him. She didn’t know how long or short the Dreamless sleep had been, but it had returned to her at least a marginal amount of strength that would last for but a moment. Her eyes lifted, and she sought him, a quiet sadness within them, like the sadness one has when they are dying. But she was not dying.... Her had moved several inches across the bed as she reached out to him, but her movement was restricted by the protesting of her wounded body. The sharp pain caused her to shut her eyes against it, robbing her of the strength she had wanted to call to him.
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He had been hoping, praying almost (for he was not a man to pray), that his cleaning of that burned mark inside her thigh would not bring back those awful memories. That had been too much to ask for it seemed. She jumped and had to struggle to stay still, even in her weakened state. That whine was like unforgiving salt in the wound of his failure. He found himself wishing he could bring Corvus back to life just so he could kill the man again. Never before had he been consumed by such unadulterated rage. At times that might have surprised or startled him, but not now. It was logical for him to have been so overwrought with fury. The most important person to him had been brutalized and Corvus had underestimated the power of that anger.
The silence was becoming maddening for all he could hear was his own thoughts and his thoughts were like poison to him now. Onus had no idea what was going on inside Cwmfen's mind and he could only assume that she was so silent because of her disappointment with him. That she did not look upon him because she did not want to. That the very sight of him upset her. Those thoughts clamped his heart like a vice grip and it felt as if it were ready to burst from the pressure. But the coyote worked on nonetheless. His well being didn't matter. Only making her better did. Even if she didn't want to see him again after this. Even if she hated him. He would accept that fate without complaint. At least he could comfort himself in the knowledge that she still lived.
Taking the gauze he wrapped it around the cuts on his arms. The man took a few moments, trying to figure out how he could wrap his neck and shoulder, but frustration quickly overtook him and he gave up. Fuck it. If it got infected then so be it. That would be the punishment for his inadequacy. He did not notice her looking at him, it was only the slight movement of the sheet beneath her that made him turn and he saw just as the pain shot through her form. Once again he knelt next to the bed and he lightly placed his hand on top of her's. Angry red lines had already bled through the wrappings on his arms, but he paid them no mind. "You need to rest. Restore your strength." There was unfinished business back in that blasted hotel room, but he couldn't leave her. Not yet. Not until he was certain she was alright and sleeping.
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The woman had watched in silence as the male’s frustration became manifest. There was a quiet hurt within her because she felt as if that anger were directed at her. She mind, struggling to form coherent thoughts, wondered if he thought her foolish for going. It all seemed so foolish to her; but she had not actively sought him when she had found him. She had merely been seeking shelter from the rain to keep the water from her wounds and to allow them to rest. The shift that she had made upon the finding of her sword had been a poor choice of action, for it had deepened her wounds and drained her of much of her energy. She had never stood a chance against him. But the confrontation, for her, had been metaphysical. For Onus, who had come and had killed the crow wolf, the confrontation had been physical, and he had succeeded, she felt, in his part. Whether she had failed or not, the woman did not know.
With her eyes closed, she only heard him come near to her, kneeling beside her. His hand rested gently upon her own, and the woad bound hand, which had been clenching the sheets, relaxed as if bidden by his touch. He bid her to sleep, and for a moment, the woman was still, her slightly opened eyes watching the plainness of the sheets. Her slowed mind wondered at those words. She wondered if he meant for her to be still and silent, away from his attention. And so, for a moment, she was still, her eyes holding openly that quiet sadness that could not be held away by the quiet calm that was normally displayed upon her features. The dilute emotions had intensified within the last few hours, running wildly about her mind. She could not control them now, and so she did not waste her energy trying. Suddenly, however, she was tentative, her heart afraid that he would push her away because of the blackness that had touched her soul so intimately.
She could feel the restlessness within him, and the warrior knew that he would leave her side soon. She did not protest, as her mind wandered, unable to retain its focus. She swallowed against her efforts and shut her eyes. But if he moved to rise or leave her side, she would have found the strength to lift her hand long enough to grasp his wrist before her hand would fall away, her woad bound fingers brushing against his as it fell softly to the bed. "Stay with me," the quiet melody whispered, and it was a request, not a plea. There was a brief silence, as if she were afraid that he would not and simply leave her in that solitude that was no longer enough. "Please." Her eyes opened, looking up at him with a tentative gaze, those eyes, normally so clear, glazed over by weariness that her body felt. She knew that she should be sleeping, that she should get rest as he had instructed, but her heart wanted something more, and her body was cold without him beside her.
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The possibility that she could have believed that he was angry or upset with her never crossed his mind, for nothing could be further from the truth. All of his frustration came from the man's own ineptitude. He didn't even want to think how many hours she had suffered beneath that creature. Had she ever thought of him? Wondered why he was not there to stop it? The irony of it all was like a punch to the gut. He had left his home to look for the crow wolf and yet he had been right under his nose. In the building right next to where Onus lived. How had he not sensed it? Where were those gut feelings when he had needed them the most? For a man who had never been ruled by his emotions he was lost in a sea of them now. Lost with no lighthouse to guide him back to stable ground.
The fact that her hand had relaxed under his touch was a small comfort. Fingers rubbed the fur on the back of her hand as he looked up towards her face. Look at me...please, just look at me... It felt as if there was this huge dark pit between them and he had no idea how to bridge that distance. Or even if she wanted it to be bridged at all. None of this had been her fault. Not a single part. She had told him what would happen if he didn't find Corvus before she did. He had known the clock was running out. Yet he had ignored the city, certain that Corvus would not choose it to wait for her in. The coyote's head hung down from his shoulders, staring at the floor. His jaw clenched and his eyes closed, willing back that moisture that wanted to escape. No. He wouldn't cry in front of her. Not when it was his failure that had cost her so much.
Then finally the overbearing silence of the room was broken by someone other than him. He looked at her, almost startled by those quiet words. That soft request. His hand that still laid on top of her own gave her's a gentle squeeze. The weariness in her eyes tore at his heart. Those dark pools looked aged somehow, a soft flicker of the disgust he bore himself shining in them. Hesitantly he reached his other out out towards her face. The man didn't even know if she wanted him to touch her. His thumb moved to brush against her cheek. "I won't leave you." His business left in the hotel could wait. She came first and if she didn't want him to leave then he wouldn't.
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The woman looked into those eyes, seeing that flicker of disgust. Her heart quivered. But then she retained that focus long enough, finding that it was not disgust of her but disgust of himself. While there was some relief, but she wished that there was some way in which she could brush away what she had caused within him. But her body did not respond to her. Her white eyes did not show her frustration, and yet it moved through her slowly, carried upon the flow of her blood. The red blood that stood brightly upon the white bandages were seen from her periphery, and she could smell the blood of the untended shoulder. She would have risen, would have reached out, would have helped him wrap it as she should have. But she could not rise, and she could barely speak. The warrior was accustom to waiting, her soul patient. But for some reason she wished that she could move, to cast aside what had been done to her, to throw away the possibility that Corvus had succeeded in planting his black seed within her. His gentle squeeze allowed the frustration to drop from her mind’s tenuous hold upon it.
Hesitently, he reached out to her, his touch upon her face like a calming elixir. Her eyes closed to savor that single, painless touch upon her. A soft sigh was expelled from her torn form, wrapped now with the white bandages with which he had patiently bound her wounds. The numb pain of her body was uncomfortable, and each attempted movement pulled upon his stitch work that she could not see. The woad marked female’s eyes opened slightly as he spoke, and her disoriented mind was quieted. She knew that he would not leave her—but why did she have that irrational fear? Finally, the crow wolf had been killed, slain by the jaws of this man that she loved. Everything should have been fine. She who had been placed at Death’s door had been spirited away by his protective arms. And yet, her heart was afraid. She was not afraid of the crow wolf, or of what it meant that he had been killed. She was not afraid of Death that continued still to claw at the apartment door. She was afraid that somehow, somewhere within her body, a creature had been conceived.
She looked up at him and loved him. Comforted by his touch, her eyes pulled darkness over her sigh as her body was able to relax. There were many things that she wished to say and many things that she wished to do, but already sleep was pulling her under, calming her heart and allowing her tended wounds to heal. She took a deep breath, breathing in his scent and holding it against her before she was finally able to let go and succumb to that powerful pull. As her mind slowly slid into a calm sleep, untroubled for the first time in a long time, she thought of how she had been unable to return his touch.
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She did not recoil from his touch, and for that he was thankful. He wished that she could let her worries fall away so that she could rest. That was what she needed now, more than anything else. She needed to sleep and let her body recover from this horrible ordeal. He had done what he could, but it would all go for nothing if she couldn't rest. But as she sighed he could feel her slipping out of consciousness. He felt her body relax and for a moment his heart stopped, worried that she was not simply falling into sleep but falling out of this world. Dark eyes widened and he watched her intently. But her chest still rose and fell with that constant breathing and he was relieved. The man sat there with her at the side of the bed for a long while. How long he couldn't say, for time felt suspended for him. It neither moved forward or back.
Finally, when he was certain that she was in a deep slumber he moved from the bed. The one thing he had neglected to do was to clean the now dried blood from his muzzle and chest. The vigilante dampened a rag with water and scrubbed the reddish brown from his white fur. He washed away all traces of that dark man from his body. He scrubbed his muzzle as well and then took a drink of water to wash that metallic taste from his tongue. Now the only blood that remained on him was his own. Eyes of obsidian watched her a while longer, then quietly, careful not to make any noise that would risk waking her, he exited the apartment. Walking down the stairs he promised himself he would be quick about this. But he wouldn't be able to rest until he had taken care of that body and the room of sin it lay in.
As he entered that horrid hotel once more he walked over to what had once been its bar. He grabbed a couple bottles and a pack of matches and then walked to the room. Corvus' body still lay there, a puddle of blood beneath the beast's head. He stared at that creature for a while and then violently kicked the corpse. Moving with purpose he collected his eye wrap and hat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something made of metal. Turning he saw that it was Cwmfen's sword. He picked it up with his belongings and deposited them near the entrance of the building. Returning to the room he picked up the first bottle and poured it over the bed and the floor around it. Once it was emptied he opened the second one and poured about half of it over the corpse of the crow wolf. He placed the half empty bottle in the dead man's jaws. Onus walked to the threshold of that room and looked in with empty orbs. His hand lifted and struck the match. He threw the match into the room and felt the heat of the sudden burst of flames wash his face. It would all burn away. This room would not be allowed to haunt them.
The coyote moved and picked up their belongings, feeling as if he were moving through some sort of dream world. None of it felt real, and yet he knew how real it all was. Legs that suddenly felt too heavy for him moved up the stairs and entered the apartment. Carefully he placed her blade on the floor and hung his hat on a hook. Then the man took the bottled water and his eye wrap and returned to sit beside the bed. He poured the water over the cloth and began to wash out where the wolf's blood stained teeth had left their mark.
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Slowly, silently, the woman woke from that deep, empty sleep. Her breathing shifted slightly as she breathed deeply, more easily. For a long moment, the woman was still, her eyes still closed as she listened to the silence of the room. She did not know for how long she had been asleep, but she felt the difference in the temperature of the air, and, although her eyes were shut, she could feel the difference in the light. Cwmfen was still, her heart beating more easily. Once more her mind reminisced upon the events of the prior day that had begun with the battling of Brennt and ended in the black arms of Corvus. Thinking more clearly now, the woman knew the severity of her wounds and of the blood loss. She knew the foolishness of her actions, the certain doom that should have resulted from her choice.... She breathed in deeply, the man’s scent strong in his abode. The song of the world sang tentatively to her, but she closed her ears to it.
Slowly, silently, the woman’s eyes opened, unburdened by the weariness of before. Although she was still weak and still weary, the warrior felt more alive. Before, Death had enveloped her in its cold cloak, dying slowly, ravaged mercilessly; she had felt her body dying, but it was her soul that had cried out most strongly. But now Death had released her, chased away by Onus who had come for her. Onus. Slowly she turned her head to where he had been before sleep had pulled her under, the stitching and the wound upon her neck tight and painful as she moved. The white eyes found him there, smelling of the air outside and of smoke, although she did not know what that meant. He was sleeping there, leaning against the bed. For a long moment, the woman simply watched him, the soft lighting of the overcast day playing across his still features. Love, like a soft, golden light, touched her soul tentatively.
Slowly she willed her hand to move, and it responded this time with surprising ease although her hand felt heavy. The warrior reached out for him, her hand lingering in the air where her fingertips alone could feel the warmth of his form. With effort, the woman held her hand there, as if afraid to disturb him. While her face was calm, there was a sadness in her eyes, a quiet and yet deep emotion that transcended the sadness of most creatures. The source of this emotion was not singular but many, and it tugged from the bottom of her soul. Where, in another time, she could have simply been content with the solitude that felt heavy in her heart, she made the effort to breach the insignificant distance between them. Her hand brushed against his face, falling softly along his neck and resting gently upon his shoulder, unable to hold herself up. She could feel the freshly made wounds along his shoulder that remained unwrapped, and she tried to move her hand away, afraid suddenly that she would make it worse.
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Onus didn't recall falling asleep. Didn't know when that weariness had been too much for him to stand so it had swept his consciousness away. At first his sleep was untroubled. Empty, as it always had been. While the fight with Corvus had not lasted long, the energy that he had used in it had been tremendous. The fury that had fueled him had made the amount of his strength that he was using impossible to gauge. Even if he had been in his right mind to gauge it he might not have. Because in those moments all he cared about was ending that creature's life. All he had cared about was spilling blood and rending flesh. Even after the rage had faded he had kept going, tending to Cwmfen's injuries and then taking care of the body and the room while she slept. After all those tasks had been completed, his energy had run out.
In those last portions of his slumber though, images began to run before his eyes. Over and over again he saw the sight he had seen as he had crashed through that locked door. The coyote twitched in his sleep, not wanting to see what his mind was showing him. He saw that brute's body covering her's, using her, taking her against her will. Onus' stomach turned and even in his sleep he thought he might retch. Silently he called out for his mind to stop, for the images to stop. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see how much he had failed his love. Then a sound rose in his ears. At first it was indiscernible, but as it rose in volume it was unmistakable. That moan. Her moan that he had heard right before he had broken the door with his body. The volume became louder and louder and he felt himself shiver just as something brushed his face.
The man's head shot up, his face startled and drained. But then those onyx eyes saw those woad banded fingers reaching out towards him. Gaze moved to her face and saw that the weariness was not nearly as strong as it had been in her peerless orbs. His arm moved to lift his hand and found that he still held his eye wrap. He must have fallen asleep while he was still cleaning it. Onus placed it on the floor and took her fingers in his hand. Once again his eyes sought her's. "Cwmfen..." His voice faded and he found he didn't know what to say. What could he say? Did she remember his apology? Perhaps he should say it again in case she didn't.
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He must have dreamed. He moved suddenly in his sleep, and she remembered back to the night she had found him bleeding to death in the rain, thought back to the room in which he lay and into which she had entered to find that she loved him. And he had been dreaming then, too, of the horrors of long ago. But that night seemed so distant now.... The woad marked fae knew of what he must be dreaming, and her heart wept because of it. Each breath he breathed in slumber invoked her own images, flashing in her mind upon the wings of Ravens within the back of her mind. But those images...they too seemed distant. Only her body seemed to remember. Her mind wanted only to be within that room, to be with this man that she loved. What had happened to her...however humiliating, however weak, insignificant, foolish it made her fell didn’t seem to matter. Just as before, upon the fields of ice, she could forget. But her body didn’t want her to forget. Something was different this time.... Her touch upon his face was met with a shiver, and in the silence she was disturbed by it.
He woke suddenly as her hand fell to his shoulder. Just as he had been surprised by the startle she had made when she had last been in this room, she was surprised now by his startled wakefulness. And the woman held her breath, releasing it only when he looked to her, a soft, inaudible sound. His gaze fell first upon her hand and then upon her face. The woman could not help but feel a flicker of dread as those black eyes, haunted still by his dreams, came to meet her gaze. Uncalled, the eyes of her father, the image of his face above her, rose up in her mind. She blinked, and pushed it away from her mind, but her breath had already caught in her throat. Those white eyes turned away, ashamed of herself. Onus was no monster. His eyes, they did not belong to a demon. As he took her fingers and spoke her name, the woman looked up, her hand grasping his weakly but with as much strength as she could instill within that grasp. She was silent as she simply looked at him. If only she could make him feel what she wanted to say to him.
"It’s okay," she whispered at length, her words slow and gentle as she breathed them into the air. "It’s alright." And then she fell silent once more, her gaze searching those inky pools with that quiet way. But that was all that she could say. She wanted him to know that he had not failed her, but already she was tired, drained of what little strength her sleep had provided. The woad marked female breathed deeply, as if to ward off her weariness. She couldn’t sleep now, not yet. Her head turned away, returning her gaze to the ceiling, though it had only been because the wound had begun to pull unbearably at her mind. "What happened," the quiet whisper began, as if speaking would be too loud, "was not your fault."
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Right after he had woke he wished he hadn't seemed so startled. It was out of his nature to be that way and he knew it must have been a little disturbing for her. Right now she needed strength and someone to lean on. He needed to try and not let his emotions overrun him, for her sake. But as he made contact with her eyes he saw a flicker of fear and heard her breath catch before she turned her face from him. Large ears laid back against his head. She saw him when she saw my eyes... That hurt worse than any physical wound he had ever received. Including the ones that had nearly claimed his life. Those dark eyes became downcast. Free fingers rubbed against the cloth of his wrap. "I can hide them. If that would be better for you." The man did his best to keep the hurt from his words. It wasn't her fault. Though Onus was sure he had never felt more ashamed of those orbs as he did right now.
Even now her grasp upon his hand was so weak. He knew he couldn't expect anymore. Not after her body and her soul had been through so much. Still it frightened him. Cwmfen had always been so strong, both mentally and physically. Seeing her now in such a deteriorated state was hard. It showed how close he had come to losing her. To losing the one thing he truly had to live for. His mission was one thing and something he would always be devoted to. But he knew that eventually it would kill him. He would fall in the line of duty. He had accepted that fact long ago and that was one of the reasons death held no fear for him. But losing her...without her he wasn't sure if he could go on. Not anymore. Not now when she meant so much to the loner.
Somewhat timidly he looked back up to her when her soft voice broke through that stagnant, silent air. He didn't want to provoke the same response and so kept his eyes half lidded. While Onus had hoped such words would bring calm to his troubled mind and heart, they did little. They floated across his ears like wind, not sinking in. It wasn't alright. How could it possibly be alright? Everything he had been striving for these past weeks had been for naught. Corvus had gotten what he wanted and Cwmfen had paid the price. Her next quiet words did more, but not enough to purge him of his guilt. "No...I should have tried harder. I should have thought of him being here in the city. He was right here. And I missed him. I was out searching the woods the whole night while you..." He could say no more. His eyes clamped shut and he pressed his forehead against her hand. Then a single tear ran down his face. The man had been fighting it back ever since he had rushed to her side and he could not fight it anymore. He did not have the strength.
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D: She will be his cup.
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No, she willed herself to whisper, but there was only silence. She did not want him to cover those eyes that she could drown in like the soft velvet of the night, those eyes that looked upon her as no other eyes did with a love she had only just been able to understand. She did not want those eyes to be hidden from her, and yet, for the hurt she knew she had caused him, she could not even look upon them. "No." It came upon an exhaled breath, that word so quiet that, even to the female, it was hardly audible in the silence.
The words he spoke—she knew what he must have felt. She knew what he must have believed she felt. His search, his efforts, had not saved her from the stealing, the rape, of her body. The crow wolf had marked her soul, that darkness like tar sticking to her self. And the physical mark had been burned into her skin. The bruises and the bleeding would fade and stop, but the burn would remain. Filthy, violated, and tainted, and yet he had still taken her from that threatening darkness. She did not blame him for what had happened. She had known what would happen if she had failed, and failure had come easily for her bloodied form.
Her hand felt a small wetness like the first drop of a coming rain, soft and scarcely discernable and yet so profound. Despite the discomfort, her muzzle turned slowly from the ceiling so that her eyes could look upon him. A great, anguished sorrow spread within her chest like water that had breeched the damn, and she took a slow, deep breath to contain it. Her hand turned slowly in his grip, her palm brushing against his brow. Her fingers moved softly and gently down his temple and to his cheek as she wiped away that tear. Her palm cradled his jaw, that gentle grip trembling with the control and exertion required to endure it. Why was he so far? "You have not failed me." The soft susurrus was breathed from her body. Her white orbs sought those black eyes, wanting him to look at her. Her eyes shone with moisture, but the tears were held back by that deep breath, still unable to fall as the rain fell.
There was a long silence, as if she gathered her thoughts. Or perhaps she gathered the physical strength required to speak. The shallow breathing rose and fell in her chest, a soft sound that disturbed the silence. "You freed me from that," she whispered, her words ending almost unnaturally as if her breath had been inadequate. I still live, she thought in the silence. Can that not be enough? She breathed deeply, blinking once to ward off that weakness. It has to be enough. It has to be, because that’s all I have. Her hand slipped from his face, her wrist resting upon the bed as her fingers lingered upon his neck. Finally, her eyes closed, closing tightly as she swallowed away the anguish of her soul.
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That single breathed "no" stilled his worried heart. Though he almost still felt the need to cover those eyes. What had they ever done but turn people against him? First his mother and then everyone else who had ever looked upon them. All but the man that had saved his life. And her. The other person who had saved his life. Though she had done so much more than simply that. She had rescued his body from leaving this mortal realm, but she had also awakened his heart. That heart he had thought had been dead for so many years, she had breathed life into it again. Now that organ, full to bursting with love for her, would never be the same. She had changed him forever. To others that change might not be visible, but to the man it was like night and day. Now he could not imagine existing any other way.
Onus would never see her as tainted. As spoiled goods. To him she was perfect. As perfect as any imperfect creature could be, and imperfect creatures they all were. He accepted her wholly as he had never accepted another, not even himself. Nothing would change how he felt about her, especially not this. Never this. He still loved her. He still wanted her. And the coyote knew that he always would. Whatever she required of him, he would give. He would stand by her side and lend her his strength when she needed it. Even though he was faltering in that path now. The powers of his sorrow couldn't be held back any longer and they overran him. Flooding him in a sea of guilt and pain at what had happened to his beloved.
The man breathed in deeply as he felt her fingers move across his face, wiping away that tear that had fallen. Without thinking he leaned into her touch, needing it. Needing that tangible comfort as much as he needed to hear those words. You have not failed me. Onus wasn't sure if he could ever truly believe that he had not let her down, but he would try. He would try to let go of that and move forward. That is what they both needed. To move forward. To leave that night and morning behind them. They needed to let it all burn away as he had burned that room and that corpse of the man who had caused them so much anguish. Watery black pools opened slowly to look into her face. I'm still sorry, they said. My fault or not, I'm sorry.
As her strength gave out and her hand fell from his face he took it in his hand again. Staying on his knees, he moved forward, closer to the head of the bed. He gazed at the side of her face, her eyes closed tightly. He was afraid to touch her anymore than he already was. Afraid to bring back anymore memories of the horror she had endured. Would she ever feel comfortable letting him touch her again? Would she be able to let him show her how he loved her without be taken back to that horrible place. If the answer was no it still wouldn't change things. He would still be there for her and he would still love her. Delicately he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I love you," the words were barely more than a whisper. "And I always will."
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The white orbs met those eyes as they looked upon her, seeing what the held within those dark depths. And she had closed her eyes to wish away the anguish that she felt, not for herself but for what she wished that she could give him. The coyote moved closer, and she could feel his warmth. It was something far more comforting than she had believed that it could be, and she breathed in deeply his strong scent. The soft kiss upon her fingers caused her to breathe in deeply, those soft words requiring her to slowly breathe out. She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to look at his face and see. But she was afraid that if she opened her eyes, she wouldn’t be able to hold it back any longer. And already it threatened upon her. "I love you."
She turned her face away, not wanting him to see how much her soul was hurting. The warrior tried to keep another tear from falling, but they fell anyway, falling with a quiet, audible impact upon the sheets as she swallowed. She felt as if that burned mark upon her had stolen her from him. As much as the woman wanted to expel all the troubles of her mind, to brush them away to let time unfold as it should, she could not. Having faced her father, her greatest fear had nearly come to pass. And yet, before Onus had come for her, before Onus had killed him, the crow wolf had already taken her away. She didn’t want Onus to see that the black blemish upon her soul had grown, stimulated by a demons touch. There was a surprising amount of disgust that she felt, and it made her stomach sick. The calmness of her waters had been distorted, and she tried to smooth them out. The stillness that had existed only moments before had been shaken away, as if the whole world had shuddered with rage and sorrow.
For a long moment, the woman was silent, wishing that she could just reach out and hold him against her, or wishing that he would reach out to hold her against him. With the flood of emotion having fallen away, she turned her head to look upon him, but the usual quiet features had been replaced by something darker as if she could not smile. And yet, her heart was lighter when she looked upon him. But her breathing shifted slightly. The queasy feeling in her stomach had grown suddenly within her, and the hand that he did not hold moved over her stomach as if to hold something in. The movement in that arm was stiff, limited by the wound upon her neck that now shot with pain because of that small movement. Her body jerked involuntarily forward as if wanting to vomit, but she did not. Only a quiet sound, like a gag, sounded from her throat and through her jaws clenched shut by her teeth. Her hand tightened about his as her body relaxed only to repeat it again. The warrior did not know what it meant, for she was never sick like this.
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Quietly she expressed her feelings for him as well, but then her face turned from him. The man almost felt a whine rise within his throat. He could feel her pulling from him, perhaps not physically but emotionally. What could he do? What could he do to stop that? It was as if he was standing on a dock and she on a ship and while their hands were clasped the ship was casting off and that distance between them grew wider and wider. The vigilante's free hand almost shook as it reached out to brush against the back of her head. "Cwmfen..." Could she possibly think that he didn't want her anymore? "This...doesn't change things Cwmfen. None of this changes how I feel about you." There may have been darkness in her soul, but he had it in his as well. That did not mean anything. Not to him, for they were still good beings, both of them. She was nothing like the demon that had spawned her.
When she finally turned her face back to him he had never seen it as such. He could feel more tears pool at the corners of his eyes looking upon her. Had it all been too late? Had the creature broken her spirit as well as her body after all? No. No he couldn't let himself believe it. She was still here. She hadn't succumb to her injuries. She hadn't given up. Onus opened his mouth as if to speak again when he saw her other hand move to cover her stomach. A puzzled look took over his face as she suddenly sat up and a soft gagging sound came from her throat. His eyes grew wider, realizing that she was getting sick. Quickly he moved from the bed and grabbed an empty trash can and took it to her.
The coyote half-way sat on the bed behind her, holding the can out in front of her. What was going on? Why was she nauseous? Had that bastard done other things to her? Injected her with something? Onus had no idea, but he knew that she was in no state to answer any questions at the moment. He watched the back of her with concern filled eyes, ready to let her fall back against his chest from her exhaustion. The man had thought they were in the clear. That things were going to end up all right, at least with her physical condition. But now this had cropped up and he felt lost. He supposed it could have been a delayed response from everything she endured. Maybe that was all it was. A visceral reaction. He hoped it was as simple as that and not something worse.
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A soft breath sighed from her as he touched the back of her head. The words he spoke were met with silence at first. There was something far greater than relief within her. She felt that he did not lie to her, but he would never have lied. But even knowing that, her heart was still afraid. She was not afraid because of what had happened. Nor was she afraid of the solitude that would have proceeded should he have found her worthless. No. While she had a strong instinct of survival, she had never feared her own death. The only thing that had made her more determined to keep death at bay was the masked vigilante, for now he depended upon the solace she provided for him just as she depended on him. She was afraid that she would hurt him, and that that hurt would be far greater than their first dispute several weeks ago. When she had turned to look at him, a question lingered on her tongue. "What if—" And then the nausea had hit.
The hand that he had released when he left her side fell to the bed to support her body. Her fingers gripped her side as she closed her eyes, this time to ward away that nauseating feeling that seemed to want to rise up. Her body heaved again, but nothing came out as if she were too weak to expel anything from her stomach—she knew that that’s what must be happening. The sensation invoked a memory of long ago that she could hardly remember, and certainly she had not remembered it until that moment. As a pup, once playful and carefree, she had eaten a mushroom. The same feeling—or maybe it was different—that she felt now had resulted then, and then her mother had encouraged kindly for the pup to spit up whatever she had eaten.
Onus had already returned with something and held it in front of her. He had come just in time, for a renewed wave of sickness washed over her, and her stomach convulsed once more. There was nothing in her stomach to expel—she had not eaten in several days—and only the bitter bile was spilled into that thing. She coughed, her stomach heaving once more although nothing came out. With her body already having been weak, the woad marked female shook with the effort, her hands releasing the grip that she had had upon the containing thing. Falling back, her body fell against his. The tension in her muscles fell away, and her breathing was slightly labored. She blinked several times, but the nausea seemed to have suddenly passed. The movement had made her wounds cry out in protest, but with the warmth Onus at her back, she hardly noticed.
Slowly, her eyes opened and she lifted her muzzle so that she could look at him. "Onus," she said quietly before she paused, turning her gaze back down as she watched nothing. "What's wrong with me?" Her voice was a whisper once more, almost hoarse with the acidic bile in her throat. She felt so tired, but it was right for her to be there with him.
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They sat there in silence, him waiting to hear her respond in some way to what he had told her. She had to know that he was telling the truth, for he never lied. Especially not to her. Or was it perhaps that she didn't want him in the same way, now that this had happened. Maybe she didn't want to be with him anymore now. Not as lovers anyway. Painful as it would be, if that were the case he hoped that she wouldn't push him from her life completely. The man couldn't bear the thought of that. Of course he would respect her wishes, whatever they were, but that was the last thing he wanted. To be separated from her while they both still lived would be more painful then anything he could imagine. As she began to speak his ears strained forward to catch her words but they were cut off. What if? What if what? But there was no time to question it as she jerked up.
The coyote sat there with a worried frown on his face as she heaved into the bucket he had provided. He himself had only been sick in that way a couple of times in his life, but he remembered vividly how unpleasant it was. One usually felt better afterwords, but the process leading up to it was somewhat excruciating. After she was done he looked into the barrel, checking to see if he could make out anything poisonous Corvus might have forced down her. Though all that lay in inside was stomach bile. When she fell back against him he moved the can away from the bed, sitting it within arms reach in case she had need of it again. He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing her fur.
The man looked down at her with sad eyes, doing his best to try and think of an explanation for her sudden sickness. "Did he...inject you with anything? A drug or something?" That could have been an explanation and any mark left by a needle would have been impossible to see. Though if he had Onus had no idea what it could have been or if it was lethal in any way. Hopefully that hadn't been the case. But if not then what? "Or maybe your body was just reacting to everything." He sat there in silence for a few more moments, idly rubbing her shoulder as the words she had spoken before the nausea hit him again. "What were you going to say before? What if...?" His voice was soft, as if afraid what the rest of that sentence could be.
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Oh, I was just thinking that maybe Onus would actually be the one who figures it out? Since he hasn't seen her since the last time they were together, and since there was blood and rubbing alcohol before, and since he was usually at a distance from her, now that he was close he could maybe scent the differnce in the hormones? >u< Let me know what your thinking about that.
500+
Her cold body was warmed by his. Gradually, the shaking of her body ceased and her mind grew less disorientated. Her mind grew calm, less emotionally unstable. She breathed steadily but felt weaker than she had before, the energy required to expel that little amount of bile taxing. But at her back, Onus was there to support her, to catch her when her body fell, and in the silence, as another piece of her shattered soul was found, she allowed herself to be still. That touch upon her shoulder was reassuring—she did not need to be alone then with such great weakness. It was like something out of a Dream, so still and quiet, and the only one that mattered was there with her. And as one who lingers too long within a Dream, her weary mind was beginning to forget Reality and simply existed.
Her weakness and helplessness weighed upon her mind as he looked sadly down at her. She was not accustom to being that way. Even when Hybrid had attacked, she had been able to move on her own, however difficult. But now she could hardly open her eyes, hardly focus her mind. And it was not so much her own sense of weakness that was troubling as the burden she felt she was upon him.
Cwmfen struggled to focus upon his words, some of which were unfamiliar to her. "Inject...drugs?" She paused for a moment—or was it a long while? "I don’t think so—I don’t know." Her mind wandered back to the night, but she could not recall anything other than the fight, the branding, and the hours of rape. There had been nothing else.... Or had there been? Her coyote suggested that it may have been from the events, from everything that she had experienced. And perhaps it were so. But truly, she did not know, and her mind wanted to fold itself away into the darkness.
With that question, the woman paused and was still in the silence. Slowly, gradually, her body leaned into him, turning ever so slightly so that she held her face against his chest. The arm unhindered by the stitching of her neck slowly pressed against the side of his ribs, those fingers pushing through his fur and remembering a different day, a different night. She breathed softly the scent of his body, closing her eyes. She was silent and still save for the slight shifting of the unworn leg that sought to hold herself with stability. "What if," she whispered, "what if I had lost you?" There was a brief pause in which she simply breathed deeply, for a moment warding off the weariness and the pain. "I kept...thinking that.... And nothing else mattered.... Not my own life...not...my own pain and suffering. That was my sacrifice...." With each lapse in the fluidity of her speech, she took several breaths, tired even as she whispered.
Where once she had lived only for survival, here, in these lands, she had learned the meaning of self-sacrifice. She was no longer a simple wolf. She was a simple luperci. Her body resisted the need to fall limp, as if her lithe form would somehow burn him. "That’s why it’s okay.... That’s why it’s alright." For a moment, her mind wondered how much she had sacrificed that night, but in the end, did it matter? That time had already passed, and Onus had killed the crow wolf.
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It was good to feel her against him again, though the weakness he felt from her body still made him afraid. He sat there silently, support her body with his own, letting her recover from that unexpected use of energy. No doubt it had drained her substantially. Something like that could drain someone even in a good condition. His thumb continued to rub her shoulder and softly he brought his nose down to rest against the top of her head. He wanted her to know that he was there for her completely. That she even thought she could be a burden to him was ridiculous. Onus would never see her as such. She would do the same for him, he knew. He took care of her because he wanted to and he needed to. That's what you did for the person you love.
Deeply he breathed in her scent, no longer as heavily laden with blood and the rubbing alcohol. The toxic smell of the dead man still clung to her, but her scent was easily discernible from his'. For her's was sweet to his nose where the other smelled rotten. To him her scent was only associated with good things. With comfort and love. And yet he sensed something different in that smell. Nothing startling, just something subtle. But what that subtle change was or could mean was eluding his mind and he was quickly distracted from it by her answer to his question.
It hadn't even struck the man that drugs were a foreign concept to her, but of course they were. Drugs were the leftovers from the degenerates of human society. While found easily in the populations of city dwelling luperci, here they would not be so easily found. "Chemical cocktails the humans left behind. They're mind altering and can make you sick. I don't think that's the reason though." No, it was highly unlikely. While weak, her behavior had shown no signs of intoxication. Onus also doubted that Corvus would have used such a method unless he had found it necessary. The demon liked to overpower others with his strength and darkness alone. Using some sort of outside method would have surely seemed below him to that twisted mind.
As she shifted, pushing more into him and readjusting her position a warmth began to fill a cold void that had taken up his chest. With her fingers running through the fur on his side he was also reminded of another day. A better day. A day he cherished and knew he always would. His arm moved to rest upon her back, helping her to hold herself comfortably. She wasn't afraid of being close to him and that was a greater comfort than he could begin to explain. He listened to her jerky speech and thought that his heart might burst. The man was silent for a few moments after she stopped, regaining her breath. "You didn't need to make that sacrifice..." he said softly. But had she? If she hadn't, would he have been able to defeat Corvus? Would he have been filled with that same fury induced by the suffering of his love? It was his relentlessness and his disregard for his own well being that had allowed him to overcome the other. Still, he wished there had been some other way. "I felt the same. When I was fighting him. I didn't matter. What happened to me didn't matter. All that mattered was ending his life and saving you." If he had died after Corvus had been killed and he had been able to tend to her, it would have been a good death. But he did not want to die, because he had her.
Then the man was silent once more. Holding her, feeling her warmth against him. Knowing that she did not think that he had failed her. She was right. He wanted her to be right. That it was going to be okay. That it was all going to be alright. He took a deep breath, taking in her scent once again and noting that subtle difference. What was that? It was if...her hormones were stronger. "Cwmfen, your scent, it's different somehow," he said somewhat puzzled. "Your hormones are more noticeable. Stronger or something."
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The humans had left these ‘drugs’ behind. The woman didn’t understand why they would need a substance to change the mind and make one sick, but she supposed that that was why the species had died out. She did not think that the crow wolf had used something like that on her, and Onus didn’t think so either. A quiet sigh escaped her, though the reason behind it was ambiguous. Whether it was sad or frustrated or angry or simply a way to expel air was uncertain.
He held her back, and she relaxed in his hold. Her body wanted more of it, that touch so gentle and warm, that touch so unlike the brutality of the prior night. She listened to his voice first and then to his words, that gruff song that she loved so much. Her eyes were half-lidded as she listened, and her weakened heart seemed to grow stronger. Perhaps she did not have to make that sacrifice, but she had chosen to. Where she had faced her fear and conquered it, she would fail to destroy him. And where she failed, Onus had succeeded. And, regardless of the calamity that brought them to that day, the two lovers were together once more. But that was over now. Cwmfen held his body tightly to her, although her strength was inconsequential. "And you saved me," the woman whispered as she pressed her nose against his chest.
Slowly she looked up at him. She wondered in what way her scent was different. The woman had not returned to Onus since the night several weeks ago, although she had sought him often. She had felt that, so as long as her father remained alive, she could not go to her lover. And she had returned home less frequently. For a moment, the woman remembered what Anu had said as she rejected her at the boarders. The woad marked female trusted that he would know. For a moment the woman was still and silent. Hormones. Her gaze fell as if she searched for the reason. It was something that she hadn’t wanted to consider, but it had lingered in the back of her mind. Her free hand slid to her stomach. Her touch was light, but it was as if she could sense something there.
"I’m pregnant," the quiet melody said as if she did not believe it. But her mind told her that it was true. Her body new that it was true. She had been feeling different. Her body felt different. She would truly be useless now, unable to that which she was born to do: fight. The black fae pulled herself from him, rolling over onto her side. How could she look at him now? How could she expect him to look at her? The thing inside her was not hers or his but her fathers. But there was no sadness or anger within her, only a hollowness. Her body, harboring that black seed, betrayed Onus. The woad bound ears swiveled back on her head as she closed her eyes. It would be her price to pay for her failure to her pack, and to Onus, and to herself.
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Now he was confident. Confident that they could move past this night and go one with their lives. Corvus Vendetta wouldn't haunt either of them any longer. That man was dead and burned. Gone. Gone with all of his evil and all of his darkness. He felt that light that existed between the two of them growing stronger again with each moment they held one another. His other hand went to rub the back of her head and her ears, careful to avoid that wound upon her neck. This was all he wanted. Onus could feel the slight pressure of her holding herself closer to him and he aided her in that effort. For the first time since they had parted ways that last time a small, nearly invisible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You mean the world to me Cwmfen," he stated with a quiet confidence. Without her, living in this world would not be worth it anymore. Not for him. The back of his fingers brushed her cheek in a loving gesture.
The ways of a woman's body, until recently, had been a mystery to him. And even while he better understood it now, there were still many things that he did not know. Like why suddenly the scent of her feminine hormones would be so strong. If he had interacted with others more he might have known the reason. Might have been able to piece two and two together. But that was not the case. Until he had found her and his feelings for her his live had been lived in near complete solitude. His focus only on the cause of Justice and what was necessary of him to fulfill that cause. Combat was all he knew, and where the most vital places of the body lay. The coyote was wholly ignorant to what was occurring within her female body. He had no idea what these signs and symptoms were and meant.
But quickly that mystery was answered for him and he felt that warmth leave his face and chest. Pregnant? Could it be? Could it happen that quickly? His eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open. No. That couldn't be it. It just couldn't. But he knew it was possible and he knew she had to be right. With how many times Corvus must have used her the odds of her avoiding that were astronomical. A new sadness settled over him like a cloak, and only increased as she pulled away from him and turned her back. All his hopes of leaving this all behind them had just been shattered like so much glass. Now there would always be a reminder. A living, breathing, permanent reminder of all she had suffered. Of that shadow that had been cast over them these past moons.
Onus was not angry though. He was not hurt and he did not feel betrayed. This was not her fault. How could she be expected to have avoided this? All he worried about was her, and her well being. Her state of mind. He didn't know if she wanted him there anymore, so the hand that reached out for her was hesitant as is laid itself upon her side. "Cwmfen," that rough yet somehow soft voice called. "I don't care. This is not your fault." The male swallowed, attempting to move closer to her again, but not wanting to smother her. "When you asked me to stay with you and I said I wouldn't leave you. I meant it. And I meant it forever. Nothing can change how I feel for you, this included." Those dark eyes looked down at her, hoping she would know all he said came from his heart. "Whatever happens, I want to be by your side. As long as you want me there." This would be difficult for both of them. A blow they hadn't expected. But he would not leave her.
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