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Ethereal Eclipse. Backdated to June 10th.
Oh, I left whether you wanted optime or lupus to you—he can be in secui if he wants, but she will not use that form.
500+
The forest was a place of darkness, and the darkness was dense here. It whispered quietly, its song barely audible and yet deafeningly loud for its silence. Like the darkness, the nighttime forest was cold. The night sighed as the sun was chased from the heavens, killed only to be reborn with the dawn. An owl called with its wise voice, speaking to the night and warning the prey. Animals scurried through the foliage, their little claws disrupting the still leaves of the plants that slept. Only the nocturnal blossoms had awaken with the nocturnal animals, and together they sang a different song than the unnatural dark of this forest. They sang of Life. Surely the crow wolf could not be here while such a song persisted. No, she would not find him tonight. Tonight, there was only the Night and only the Life.
The pied Raven crowed, it’s deep growl sudden. The black fae wandered in that place of darkness, comfortable and unafraid. The darkness was a thing of comfort for the woad warrior, for indeed she had been conceived of it, wrought of rape from the loins of the creature darkness himself. And it was that crow wolf himself that she sought. He had brought Death upon the boarders of her pack, and he had brought Death upon the life of Ril’o. For that the Caledonian Korean could no longer wait. She had doffed those constricting fetters of fear and pride, for it had been fear that had made her run and pride that had not allowed her to go to him. She knew that if she went to him, she would fail. She was a skilled warrior, to say the least, but still she was no match for her father. And so she had discarded that, going to face her fear without that pride that should no longer have existed within that enlightened warrior. Even if she were to die, even if she were doomed to the Fate of her mother, it would be to protect those around her. There would always be another to pick up her task. There would always be another to pick up the strings of a fallen life.
The edge of the forest ceased her movements. She stood there upon the boarder where the trees began and the world ended. Like a creature of the Dream world, she emerged from a place of nightmares with that ethereal fluidity and paused as if listening. She heard a different song here, and the cold air of the dark forests moved through her fur, playing with the soft scent of her skin. The white orbs, like two moons of a distant planet, scanned over the open lands. They fall lastly upon a shadowed, prone figure. The fur was white, and it seemed to sleep. The warrior of Dahlia de Mai took several steps forward, her woad bound ears pricked forward as she traveled with that silent fluidity. She did not speak but simply ceased once more at a distance in which she could reach out and touch him, for it was a male indeed that lay there, scarred with marks that were intentional and not of war.
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The liquid slid down his cheek, between his eyes and all over his already scarred body. They tore into his flesh ripped until all he could feel was pain. Mahlouk was one to with stand pain, since he had been given nothing but pain since he was a pup. Then with one last blow he was...
Awake. Starring at the woods around him he felt his breath come out in uneven puffs. The nightmares wouldn't stop. They kept going over in his head. Like a bad film he could seem to stop running in his dreams. Those two forms stood over his body and took the life from him. The very thought of it made the scared male shiver.
He wasn't sleeping in Crimson Dreams tonight. His nightmares had chased him from the pack lands. He had come here hoping those images would leave him. Now he sat up panting trying to calm his heart. Would this same nightmare keep repeating itself until he died of a heart attack? A cold lick went down his spine and he felt nasius thinking about the nightmare. It was like he could feel them peel his skin from his hide. Throwing his head back Mahlouk howled. The song was strong and sad, but filled with life. He didn't call for anybody, only released this giant panic in his gut. The hybrid bayed at the moon like he had never done before.
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500+
The scarred male was dreaming. The woman’s white orbs watched him curiously, almost tentatively, as if she had stumbled upon some private place in which she did not belong. She wondered if her Dreaming appeared that way, but she could not say. There had been only one instance in which she had Dreamt violently enough to wake with a start, and Onus had been there. He had not seemed disturbed until she had awaken—no she did not think that she Dreamed like this. And she did not think that his Dreaming would be the same. His appearance was not like one of either Caledonia or Korea. She did not know where he came from, but the gods and goddesses that moved the Dreaming would not be strong within wherever lands this male hailed from.
She was close enough to feel the heat of his body, elevated by his rapid heartbeat. There was fear in the air, thick and intoxicating, tugging at the primal instincts of the wolf. But the control that the warrior held was able to withstand those strong instincts, and her limbs were still, unmoving as the white male awoke. But the fear seemed only to dissipate slightly, not alleviated by the leaving of the dreaming. The warrior did not move, unwilling to disturb unnerved awakening of this male, and was silent. She breathed in his scent, catching the distinguishing mark of Crimson Dreams. It was a familiar scent, but one that she had not smelled often, so it was not surprising that she did not know this male. There were many wolves that were unfamiliar to her, but her duty was not to know these individuals. She was simply to protect the pack and ward of any threats of danger. That was all. As Adonis, she would familiarize herself with leaders, but there was a quiet warning within her mind of acquainting herself with others, especially with the crow wolf so intent upon having her. She did not need to endanger anyone needlessly.
Suddenly, he lifted his muzzle and howled to the sky. Once more, the woman resisted the urge to join the call, but this was no chorus howl. For that moment, the woman listened to the song that she heard so little of these days. His voice seemed to belie and complement his appearance, and she had a sample of the essence of his soul, a blue colour. When the call ended, it echoed as in a cave within her mind. "Do your Dreams haunt you?" The alto melody was soft as she broke the silence that followed the howl. For a moment longer the woman was still, allowing the scarred, white male to adjust to her presence. After several moments had passed, the woman took several, fluid steps forward, circling around so that he could better see her. She wondered if she would be able to help him, for she was a Dreamer. But she didn’t know if her knowledge would be limited due to the different minds. Her movements ceased once more as she held that nonthreatening air. And yet, the warrior’s mind was still alert, aware that every creature had the potential to be an enemy.
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His howl echoed through the air. The song was one he hadn't sang in so long he didn't even know he could do it anymore. He was more wolf then dog. His mother had been pure wolf, and his father half wolf and half German shepard. He had barely known either of them. His whole life had been spent with people carving their life stories into his skin. That was why when she spoke from behind him he wasn't surprised. She was like the ghost that always was right behind you weather you knew or not.
Turning around the white scarred male looked at her through matching pupiless blue eyes. Hers were white in comparrision to his pale blue ones. Her blue markings were beautiful. His own tattoos had been more deadly. "They are not dreams that this one sees. This one is seeing what will be." Mahlouk looked up at the stars that littlered the sky. Like the prick holes in the blanket that blocked out the light. His heart no longer raced. He only felt like he was helpless.
"If they were mere dreams he would not be afraid." The young male said in a deep voice that showed no emotion, and a blank face to match. Only his song had revieled his pain. They would rip him apart piece by small piece and he could do nothing. Fate was going to deliver herself to the scarred male. Was it so bad to know? He would have to make sure it happened the right way. He would not cower if fate said it was his time to perish by anothers hands.
Looking at the she wolf she matched his old tribes customs so much he let his eyes drop from her face. He didn't want to deliver any disrespect to her. Mahlouk didn't want to give disrespect to anyone. His life had been soely created for others to use him. Sometimes it was just how things played out. The hybrid knew he was lucky to have had fond love and a home, so he wasn't so angry over the injustice of the past. He had something great now in the here.
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500+
A light smile flickered across her woad bound maw. His dreaming must certainly be different from her own. If not what will come to pass, what did one dream of? The woman was not familiar with the normal dreams that others had, having had either no dreams or the Raven Dream even before her Long Nights. She wondered what it was like to dream that way.... "What is frightening about what will be," the quiet melody asked. She wondered whether he were afraid of the events or the lack of control over the events. Or she wondered whether it were because he did not understand the reason for the events. She herself suffered now from the inability to understand. That was why she could not see whose soul it was that crossed the river dividing the worlds of the living and the dead. But in the end, she knew that it did not matter. What would come to pass was an inevitability that she did not have the power to change. And the black wolf, an accepting creature, accepted that now as she always had.
"It is okay to be afraid of the Dreams," the alto melody replied gently, forgetting for that moment that there was another kind of dreaming that was dreamt within this world. "The power of the mind is greater even than the power of the body." It was a thing that she understood very well as a warrior. "What the mind creates is just as Real as this world." Slowly, the woman moved forward, closing the distance between them. It did not appear as if this creature would behave aggressively. The white orbs met the eyes that were similar to her own. There was colour in those eyes, however, and one that was like the song that came from his throat. Slowly, the woad marked she-wolf lowered herself upon the grass, laying alongside him with a comfortable distance separating them. While the female should have continued her searching, a short reprieve would be alright. She would find Corvus when the time was right.
Suddenly the male’s gaze turned away, averting in a strangely subservient and respectful manner. The woman did not often demand respect, and she did not demand it now. When speaking, it was disrespectful in both cultures to not meet the gaze of the one with whom the conversing commenced. Perhaps it was different in the lands from which he hailed. The woad bound tail moved through the grass momentarily as it covered her hind legs. Briefly, her eyes crossed over the scars that marred the white fur, and she saw distinct figures within them. It was like story made more clearly manifest than the scars of warriors. It was a curious custom, and one that she was only vaguely familiar with. "You do not have to look away from me," the soft alto offered gently, her head going out slightly as if her muzzle sought to lift his. But the distance was too great for that, and so it sufficed as a simple, encouraging gesture.
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He listened to her wise words. His own eyes casted away as he listened. He wasn't custom to being around someone so much like himself. "This one isn't frightened of what will be, but of what he will leave behind." The male said lightly his rough voice hold no more emotion now then it had before his song. He was like an empty shell when he spoke to others, leaving them to not trust him because of his lack of expressions. Was it so horrible what he had been taught to do?
Her words were kept in his mind and he nodded gently to them. She was wise to say such things and his respect for the sable women grew. Already he felt at ease in her pressence and his body relaxed as he let himself lay down, his eyes still averted. It wasn't until she told him he could look at her that he did. His blue orbs were soft and revieled the true being that acuppied the emotionless face. Laying his head on his paws he let his eyes flick over to her every so often.
"This one isn't afraid of pain. He is afraid of the heartache his mate will feel when fate has done her deed." He spoke as if fate was a women. To Mahlouk she was. The women who came to them all and delivered their fate to her ultimate plot. He wasn't afraid to die. Death was only a begining of something else, and an end to the old. Yet for the ones left behind, it was only an ending to their loved ones. This Mahlouk felt was the true pain in his fate.
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500+
The woad bound ears flickered forward at the sound of his voice. His words were something familiar. It was the same fear she now felt. Her love for Onus was such that it was not for herself but for him that she wished to stay behind, to continue to resist the call of her father. But she could not, and she could not for the same reasons. She knew what must be done, and the Dreams urged her to move forward and do that which must be done. And for her duty to her pack, for the wolves that had already suffered, she could make that sacrifice. For Onus, she could go. And she knew that for her, should she fail, Death would not be immediate. Death would be slow, her freedom suffocated until her spirit died and with it her body. But to end it all, to have Onus live, that would suffice. Onus would have to understand.... He could not be made to suffer more because of her. And with that she was content with what must be done, because she understood that reason.
Slowly, the woman nodded. "Your mate will feel heartache," the woman confirmed. While Love was an entirely new concept for the warrior, she knew what even a short distance divided by error could do to the heart. She knew what the distance of death must do also. It made the decision that much more difficult, but one cannot shy away from the hand of Fate. "One love has been made, it cannot be undone. But you mustn’t fear for your mate. It must be understood that Death comes for us all and that Death comes only at the right time, never too early, never too late."She spoke now of what had been said to Hybrid, of what had been said to Catalyst. Always, it was the same, but it was the same because that law of life and death was a constant. It could not be changed as Corvus Vendetta sought to change it.
"If your mate loves you, you can wait for them on the other side." The woman herself did not particularly believe that Death functioned in that manner. She wasn’t even sure what it was that lay in the land of the Dead beyond that river. But it was a thing that many within these lands believed. Perhaps this male would believe it too, or, if not him, then his mate. "We who must die cannot become attached too dearly to life, even if it is love to which we are attached." No matter how difficult it was, the binding hands would have to let go. And perhaps love was eternal. One could never know. The warrior did not know. She knew only what love could feel like, and how out of control love could render one. And she knew that she did love. And that was enough. "I walk towards Death, but as Warrior, death is always upon me, threatening and waiting."
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She spoke like she was a warrior. It made him happy to be in her presense. She eased some of the fear from him. Death didn't frighten him, neither did pain, how could it after being tortured for so long? Still he worried for Jazper and leaving him alone. He knew that the black male had been left before. Would it be wiser to just leave? So much fell upon him so young he didn't have very good answers. Resting his head on the floor he thought it over and over till he looked at the she wolf again.
"Mahlouk is happy. He can die happy now, having known love and being content." The white scarred male felt it then, he looked down at the brown small bear and his heart clenched. He would leave boo behind to. Shouldn't the bear go somewhere it would be more loved then by his dead corpse? Getting up in a rush he took the bear in his maw and quickly put the bear at the warriors paws. Stepping back a saddness entered his eyes at letting the bear go, but it was all for the best. "Would you give boo to a pup in your pack? Mahlouk doesn't want Boo to be lonely." There was a saddness in his voice even as his face seemed to stay blank.
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Bleh, sorry for the crap, TT____TT
500+
There was a great silence in which the white hybrid seemed to be deep in though. But when the silence was finally broken, the woman’s woad bound maw was graced with a quiet smile. She nodded knowingly. Once she had not required love; having never known such a thing, it had not seemed imperative. To die with the song of war in her heart and moving through her soul had been enough. But then she too had come to known love, and she was glad that she had known it. As the white male, she was content to go now to the end she knew to be inevitable. And that end was to her father. But Onus had given her that one night more, and that was enough for her. She knew that death would not come quickly for her, and that her freedom first would be taken before her soul died and finally her would die too, but the death of Ril’o and the attacks upon the ones she knew needed to be stopped. There would always be another to defend the pack. Her life was expendable.
"In life, that will be enough," the quiet melody responded at length. It was better to have known something so strangely irrational and wonderful than to have never known such a thing at all. "Your mate will understand in time." The black fae, although she knew very little of such aspects of life, knew that there would be pain. When her mother had been killed before her, she had known such a pain. But, having enlightened herself, having diluted the emotions within her, she could no longer remember the intensity of such imminent loss.
When he rose, the female resisted the urge to move in response. The instinct and impulse of the warrior bid her to move lest he prove to be a threat. But the woman retained that calm control, those white orbs simply following him that that quiet, sharp intensity. He came close, but he simply dropped the stuffed animal at her paws. The gaze shifted from the blue eyes to the thing between her paws, and with careful inspection she found that it was a bear—it was difficult for the wolf to ascertain the identity of such strange shapes, but she was sure that this one must be of a bear. "I will make sure that he finds a loving home," the warrior replied, and she felt suddenly as if she spoke to one much younger, perhaps even one younger than Catalyst. There was a slight pause as she looked up at the male who had backed away and pushed herself to a sitting position. "Are you sure you don’t want Boo to go to your mate?" Perhaps the white male had already thought of such a thing. Whatever he wished of this bear, the woman would respect his choice. And it was strange. She had only just met this male, and she knew that she could not trust him in a way that brought friendship, but she would respect the wishes of one who walked toward death. Like a warrior she lead, she could give to Mahlouk, which she had discerned his name to be, compassion.
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