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Cwmfen (300)
He could not stop shivering. He just wanted it to stop. The aching. The horrible bone cracking experience did not tear up his hearing anymore, but he hurt everywhere. He had an idea of what had just happened, but it did not necessarily mean that it made sense to the boy. He had never troubled himself with how the adults shifted between different bodies. It had always been a natural thing, nothing he had ever needed to bother his little troubled mind about. Now he was drowning in this problem. The room was dark and the young fox that he had taken in was hiding under the bed, probably just as upset as its young master. The tension lay thick as a choking mist in the room he had been given when he had moved in with Dahlia’s puppy sitter. Conor was curled up into a strange ball of fur in the corner, still breathing hoarsely, sounding as if he was slowly choking.
Nothing in particular had triggered the premature shift, it had just happened out of the blue as the puppy had jumped around on top of the bed like the child he should be. Things had become much better lately. So much better. Then this had happened. What if Alexey came home and saw him like this. Would she be angry? Upset perhaps? The Soul boy desperately wanted to be granted some kind of explanation of what had just happened, but the house was empty and he was all alone. In a way he actually preferred this, because he felt for some reason shame. Ashamed for what had happened. Ashamed for being weak and scared. Everything. Guilt and depressive moods were still quick to arrive once it was given fuel, and today it hit him again with full power, crippling the young boy’s mind. The young boy stretched a fully shifted arm out and turned it with the palm up. A hand; it was called a hand.
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I’m assuming that he is in Alexey’s cabin...? And is it okay if this is dated to the afternoon of the 5th? I keep forgetting >u<;;;
500+
Having departed from Anu and having explored the boarders, the woman turned back the packlands, falling deeper into her home. The scouts could take up the patrol, but the woad warrior did not wish to tire herself too severely. She knew that if she did not allow the wound to fully heal, she risked a wound that would hinder her movements for the rest of her life, and that was not something that she would tolerate. Without the means to live that passion for war, the warrior was nothing.
She paused alongside a cabin that she had never visited before. The scent that lingered here belonged to Alexey—the woad marked Adonis wondered where the caretaker was up to today, but the scent was not strong enough to elicit a presence. With a sigh, the woman leaned against the cabin’s wall, pushing her weight completely upon her left leg and alleviating the pressure upon the deep wound. While the woman’s ability to tolerate the pain was high, she could not help but feel the relief fall over her. She leaned her head back against the wood, those white orbs turned to the heavens that thundered with the threat of more rain. Alexey would be another she should speak to. She did not know what would be birthed into the world when the time would come, but she knew that she would have to leave the litter in the female’s care. With such thoughts crossing her mind, the warrior closed her eyes and breathed in the world that was silent—only it was no longer silent.
The woad warrior pushed herself from the wall, turning her head to gaze briefly into the darkened cabin. The black fae knew that she had heard something, and she saw now something curled within the corner. For several more moments, the white orbs watched it intently and found that it moved. A strange mood seemed to come from that place, and the woman felt that it was not a good thing. Carefully, the woman strode about the edifice, seeking the entrance. The rhythm of her step along the wood was uneven for her limping, but it lacked the sound of the Spear, which she held at an angle. Carefully, remembering how such a thing functioned, the warrior opened the door and moved inside to the place that had been seen from without. The scent of a vaguely familiar member wafted strongly to her upon the still air, and for a moment she watched the prone form.
Slowly, she set the Raven Spear against the wall and felt its song grow dim with the lack of contact. She approached the young creature, her ear swiveling to the place where another scent lingered. She did not know what a fox was doing within the house, but that was not her main concern. As the woman struggled to lower herself to the ground, she felt heavy, encumbered by the black life growing within her stomach. Her movements grew awkward as her right leg was held stiffly for she could not yet bend that knee without the danger of ripping the wound. But with a soft breath, she finally settled upon the wooden floors. Silently the warrior leaned over, her right hand reaching forth to gently touch the boy upon the shoulder. She saw now that he was not sleeping, and that his eyes were open. There were a great many emotions that flowed strongly from him, and her touch sought to comfort them. But she was silent, as she was these days. Only the white orbs sought gently the eyes of the other.
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Yes and yes! (300)
He stretched and watched, very upset at what he saw. That hand could not belong to him. This was not his body. Hysteria sting him with glowing hot needles. This was not his body. That same thought was repeated over and over again inside his head, edging him on towards the panic that was starting to gather in his body in order to explode very soon. The boy’s ears lay flat against his skull, and the little tuft of fur that usually grazed the top of his head had provided him with silky threads of copper painted hair down towards his eyes, though not reaching them. That hand slowly sought his face. Those sharp nails dug into his cheek and the boy was horrified how easily he could do that, twist and bend what had before been a dull and soft paw. It could not be real, it felt so extremely wrong. A mewl escaped his lips in misery. A second one followed straight after when the door sounded, barely audible above his shallow and upset breathing.
If it had been Alexey he might had started crying instantly, but the approaching creature was a stranger. Conor’s heart started to attempt to force its way up through his throat, and he was suddenly very quiet, curling tighter together in order to make himself invisible. Unfortunately there were no super powers in this world. He could see the spear and silently wondered if she was to stab and kill him with it. He did not remember the Adonis from the pack meeting and was terrified. That the weapon was left resting against the wall gave little to no relief. She was still walking towards him. Her eyes were horrible and weird, like nothing he had ever seen before. Conor pressed his body further into the corner, or would have if he had not already been a fluffy piece of fur and limbs pressed against it unfortunately.
The stranger woman sat down and reached out for him. She touched him. He could only stare at her with those big, fearful lilac eyes. His mouth opened, but refrained from producing any sound. He was not sure if he could. She was looking at him. Why was she looking at him? He was a freak and she was looking at him! ”Don’t look at me!” he suddenly managed to shriek. His strangely formed feet pushed against the floor in an attempt to push him through the wall. Just away from it all.
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500+
The young boy shrieked with words of fear. The woman paused, the fingers that had reached out touching only air. Slowly, as if she wished to startle him no further, the hand was retracted, lowered ultimately to rest upon her thigh. Silently, she obeyed him, her head turning to look ahead of her. Sometimes, the fear of an enemy or the fear of prey could be quelled by simply looking away, by meeting no gaze and simply moving slowly by. The pup was no enemy or prey animal, but the fear within him was enough that the warrior thought it might work. She wanted to let him know that she was not going to hurt him. For a moment, there was simply silence. She was at a loss, and being unable to know what to do, to be unable to take action, made the woman uncomfortable. But she was uncomfortable not only because of this, but because she did not know how to quell the fear of this pup, and she feared that she would not be able to do the same with her own. Her gaze fell to the legs stretched out before her.
"It’s okay," the quiet melody whispered, her susurrus soothing against the harsh sounds of the boy’s voice. "I’m not going to hurt you." And she fell silent once more. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him, but she kept her gaze lowered, watching him only through her peripheral. The woman did not know the boy, and so she did not know that this was his first shift. Yet when she remembered his observation of his own body and his body’s awkward movements of moments before, she thought that perhaps it was his first time. Perhaps he was not completely afraid of her (and the fear with which she had been looked upon had caused her to falter, for she never meant to strike fear into any creature, only command it), and such a thought lessened her own discomfort. Perhaps she could help the boy to lessen his.
"Don’t be afraid," she tried again, struggling to not be direct and yet being unsuccessful. She knew the meaning of stealth within battle, but the concept seemed to escape her in such a situation. She tried to be gentle with him, although she was cruel to no creature, but whether the boy would accept her was another matter. "There’s nothing wrong...." The woman’s breathing was quiet as she sat unmoving. She did not move toward him yet, knowing that to do so would simply drive the stake of fear through his mind. Slowly, however, she lifted her gaze to tentatively meet the eyes of this Soul boy. Perhaps she should not have entered this place. Perhaps she should have allowed him the solitude that she would have wanted in such a situation. If no progress was made, she could leave him, and perhaps she would seek out Alexey—she would know what to do.
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(500)
There should be no shame attached to this new thing. The individuals Conor interacted with daily always seemed to prefer this odd form before plain wolf. The child’s body and mind did not handle this insane confusion with a changing body well, and then had reacted with pumping fear accompanied with large doses of adrenaline around in his small body. This should have been something exciting, but the boy had found it to be dreadful and painful instead. Those lilac eyes stared at his own oddly shaped body and could not comprehend this instantly without feeling failure whipping his soul. Although he was much healthier than he had been in the past, his mind was still fragile. Perhaps he would be able to cope with it eventually if he had been granted a few hours extra or had Alexey by his side, but this unknown woman had walked straight into the house and she had stared at him with misty eyes lacking their pupils. He wondered if this all was only a very vivid nightmare that would vanish the moment he regained his consciousness.
She told him to not be afraid. He wanted to yell and make everything worse, but perhaps it was time to change tactic. Despite the first people he had known, loved and trusted had been horrible people, he had learned that the world was not as cruel as he had thought it would be. He had been very unlucky with his family. His mind wanted to go on with its rampage, but the boy struggled to gather mind strength to follow the woman’s words. Despite her terrifying (yet also beautiful) appearance, he could not detect any evil in the woman. She was merely trying to be kind and he had and still was trying to push her away. Despite the terrible chaos reigning inside his head as well as in his body, the boy eventually managed to understand this. Conor started with several attempts to slow down his breath, but soon enough figured out that he did not have the required control over his alien body to focus on any such tasks.
Again those melodic words sounded and the purple eyed boy tried to allow her words to reassure him. It worked. He could feel his body shake and ache, but it did not feel like as if he was falling down through darkness. Those alien arms of his started to stretch out for the black adult with the mysterious eyes. She only wanted to help. Conor needed help. He needed her. Although he was still halfway scared out of his mind, he was amazed how he had managed to suppress the additional amount of panic that had been ready to be released whenever the first canine would discover him. He had promised himself to shake off those obvious weaknesses and flaws he had gathered while being psyched down by his psychotic father, and those mental workouts had clearly helped somewhat. He tried to convince himself that this was something natural that everyone had to go through at one point of their life. Truly, it was.
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500+
Slowly, the boy began to reach out towards her, and, while her mind wished to hesitate, she found that her body was already responding. And yet, she moved slowly, with careful and gentle movements. Her own hand reached out for one of his, the woad bound fingers brushing against his palm as if she believed that he would recoil from her touch. Her eyes tentatively met his, her gaze gentle and the natural intensity softened; when she felt that he would not move away, her hand grasped his carefully but firmly, her hand gripping his forearm as if she had caught someone who had fallen. Gently, she began to pull his small body towards her, bringing him against her side. Because of her swelled abdomen, she could not turn to offer an embrace, and so her arm reached over to hold him without suffocating him, and she knew the need for such space. She held him quietly for several moments, believing that he required such an embrace—or was it she that required such a thing—and that he needed comfort, although it was comfort that she was unfamiliar to giving.
After she had fled her father but before she had departed from Caledonia, she had seen glimpses of the others who had lived there, had seen those who had fought in battle and had joined their ranks as the battles started only to depart unnoticed. But she had seen the Healers and the Dreamers tending to the wounded soldiers. She brought her fingers to touch his face gently, to lift his gaze. The black female placed her hand against his brow as if to calm his mind, holding it there before allowing her hand to slide to his cheek. She wondered if such a thing would calm the boy as it had calmed the wounded warriors, but she knew so little. She was a warrior only, and though she was a Dreamer, she was a Dreamer only because she did Dream. She knew nothing of its profession, for none had been there to instruct her in such ways.
"Why are you afraid," she asked quietly, yet her quiet melody held no judgment. She wanted only for him to discover why he was afraid. Perhaps through knowing, she would be able to help him conquer such fear, for no fear was insurmountable. But, at that moment, she knew nothing of what caused fear. Perhaps she had caused such a thing, although she did not think that that alone would have provoked such a reaction, for he had reached out to her, and she had tried to reach out to him in return. And yet, how uncertain she was, how unfamiliar to the nurturing of youth. How little she knew of their fears and desires, for she had quelled much fear and desire from her mind as the warriors of olde. Many warriors now did not practice war as she did, did not draw their emotional attachment from their minds like poison from a wound. And yet, this pup was young, and he was a boy. Did he not have the chance to experience such things? Did not her pups have such a chance? She didn’t know. When did it begin? She did not know.
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500+
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Her gentle fingers brushed against the sensitive skin on his palm, but he made an effort to remain still. Forcing calm to settle was a very hard task, if not an impossible one. Those whirling mists that were the woman’s eyes had moment earlier been perceived as a threat, but they had changed into something that gave him hope. There was tranquillity within that adult woman that he too wanted to possess. Perhaps, if their bodies kept the contact, he could lend some of her mental threat to calm those treacherous, swirling emotions within. She seemed soft in every way. The dark hand pulled him closer, and the boy slowly followed, attempting to push towards her yet keep from too clearly feel the extreme difference between these new limbs compared to the old lupus ones. Her body was warm, and for a moment, a fleeting glance in the hue of lilac investigated that swelled abdomen of the woman. He had never seen something similar, but he knew that it was probably a sign of pregnancy. To think there were baby puppies inside her. He too had not been one of those not too long ago. Firefly had said that she would not disappear. She had said that she would not stop loving him. Where was she? Would this woman live for her young ones as a caring mother like it was supposed to be? He thought of himself and Emwe, wondering why those two had been so unlucky with the couple that had given them life in the first place.
When the woman’s soft voice sounded, Conor had calmed down several levels already. Though, with the question rose those terrifying feelings again. He had no control and did not know how it had happened. He gave a feeble attempt to produce a reply, but it was merely a fragile whimper that left his lips. The boy had attempted to avoid just that analysis of why. He was terrified of drowning in his emotions. He had been wrecked before he had gained the ability to speak, and now when he finally was making visible progress, he was afraid to dip down under the surface. He inhaled deeply before he searched for that answer. Nothing happened.”It happened for no reason and my body hurts...” That odd ache resided in every nerve, although it was far from powerful. More than not, it seemed to serve as an additional reminder of his first shift. ”I can’t move my body.” he quietly complained quickly after those first words, finding a dose of fear in that fact. However, just the presence of an adult had managed to comfort him with that he was safe and in good hands now. His cheek rested against the woman’s silky fur, although his arms had now sunk down and become limp. He did not know how to use this body. He did not want it.
Still, a part of him wanted to stretch and bend and explore this new experience. Conor had never truly been able to experience that natural curiosity that belonged to the children. His father had blocked those channels a long time ago, but perhaps the boy was slowly finding back to what he thought had been lost.
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Ooo, I love your new avatar!
500+
As the boy leaned against her, the black fae felt a flicker of an unfamiliar warmth within her, and her heart was eased. A quiet, imperceptible smile graced the woman’s quiet lips like silver. For a moment, she simply held him that way, allowing him to gather himself for the answering of her question. The soft whimper sounded in the silence, her woad-banded ears swiveling to catch it. But she did not push him, nor did she speak for him. He could answer the question, and only he could know the answer.
Everything happened for a reason. Everything was Fated, preordained. It was such beliefs that allowed the accepting nature of the black wolf to exist. But the woman was silent, responding with nothing. She did not know if the boy believed such things, for she knew that all believed something different. Even those that claimed to believe in the same thing did not truly believe in the same thing, for that thing, whether looked upon by the eyes or by the mind, was created through the particular perception of the individual. And so, knowing this, the woman said nothing. Would the mind of the youth be able to grasp such a concept should she have said such a thing? She did not know, and in the end, it would have changed nothing. "Your body hurts because it has done something new," the quiet melody suggested, "and your body wants to let you know that it is still alive." She had always perceived pain in such a way; to feel pain was reassuring. At least one was not dead.
"Breathe deeply. Concentrate." The commands were quiet, gentle and yet forceful. "You have to will your body to move. Only you have control over it." The woad bound hands rubbed his arms softly as if to brush away some invisible force. In reality, however, the woad warrior had considered the possibility of cramped muscles, and so, by rubbing his limbs, she would have helped to loosen the knots that would have bound his body. The white orbs looked into the purple eyes that did not seem to resemble Haku or Firefly. They carried their own shade. And, to the female who saw the world through such symbolism, she found such a fact to be noteworthy.
Slowly, the black fae released him, pulling her arms gently from about him. Bracing them upon the floor, the pregnant female pushed herself up, careful to avoid the over-exertion of her right leg. There was only a shade of her fluidity that remained in her movements, but it would one day return. Once she had steadied herself, the black fae turned to look back at the boy upon the ground. "You have to get up now." Her voice was a quiet melody in the silence, but perhaps her actions had been harsh. The Adonis was unfamiliar with the dealings of young creatures, and so she moved as if she dealt with an adult. The white orbs considered the boy, wondering.... It was better, she decided, if he could do it on his own. But if he could not, she was there to help him. Everyone needed help sometimes, even she.
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700+ I do too  , oh and this reply is not grand.
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Her words made sense, and the boy chose to see the pain in a new light. It did not truly feel like his body was injured. What he felt was an ache slowly beating together with the rhythm of his little heart. Yes, a reminder that his body had managed to do something new. The boy nodded slowly, glad that his body was alive despite the change it had gone through. He knew that changing forms was something normal, but he had a hard time understanding how a body could go through it without eventually becoming damaged. Her words suddenly found a new meaning, and he replayed those wise words again in his mind, taking in that new meaning. Conor had always perceived pain as punishment and hurt, but it was his body telling him that he was still alive. When Haku had kicked the boy so that the child crashed into the wall and almost broke its nose, it had been a great amount of pain. He has survived and his body was telling him so, the location of pain had told him where he had been hit and the amount of it had suggested how badly he had been hurt. Though, the general meaning: Conor was alive. The black woman holding him would never be able to understand how much her words helped the boy.
When he was commanded to breathe and concentrate, the boy closed his lilac eyes and forced his breathing to reach a more stable level. He made sure that his lungs were filled all up before he exhaled. It helped. The next words made sense yet left him in an uncomfortable confusion. Her touch was reassuring and caring, but the boy still felt afraid of the new body he now was trapped in. His front limbs were somewhat the same, although the sensation of hands and fingers that could grab and were more sensitive was odd. It was worse with the boy’s hind legs. They stuck out in a weird angle, as if they had been broken forwards when they were supposed to bend backwards. The boy did not know, but it did not feel right at all. The boy wanted to whisper no and reject the woman’s words. She believed she knew what he was going through! That aggressive thought vanished as quickly as it appeared, and he felt a pinch of guilt for thinking such a thought at all, despite that it had been involuntary. She only wished to help, and she had also had her first shift once.
He would do well to follow the woman’s advice. Despite this, the boy felt sick to his stomach when she said that he had to get up. What did she mean? She had left him down there on the floor and now towered over him on those two legs. Surely she could not possibly think that he was going to get up and stand on two feet? Although he saw it every day, the thought of standing on and walking on two legs was insane. Conor wanted to grab out after the adult again, attach himself to her legs and never let go, but such an act was impossible. Those eyes reopened and looked up at the woman, his gaze agonized.
The boy looked over to the bed, and sort of managed to crawl the few feet over to it, mostly only using his front limbs, still afraid to use those odd back limbs. His hand grabbed hold of the foot of the bed, and a quick glance told him that the little fox had most likely fled the room, because there was only empty space under the bed. He started to attempt to lift himself up and crawl up to the top of the bed, feeling incredibly silly. His odd and new feet scratched and pressed against the wooden floor. The boy paused for a moment to calm himself before he returned to the panic stage again, breathing heavily yet steadily as he slowly started to move this odd body again. Eventually he pressed his feet under him, and tried to keep the general shape of the leg vertical, although there was a small bend in them around the middle. His arms had served as support on the bed, and the boy slowly started to reach of the walls, so that he could stretch up properly and stand just like the woman did with her ease despite her swelling belly.
A small sound escaped the boy as he pushed himself off the bed with some strength so that he could hit the wall and claw against it feebly while he attempted to keep his balance. How in the world did they manage to do this? His tail moved about as if in a cheery wag, but only because of his complete lack of balance that the tail went on a drug drip.
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I liked it, ^=^
500+
A soft smile flickered in the tranquil pools of her white eyes. The young boy seemed to accept the fact that she would not be returning to his side, and so he began to make his own way. And the black fae watched quietly as he crawled, avoiding the use of his legs. It was so very different to watch from this perspective, but while others may have viewed such physical struggle as humorous or absurd, the warrior found it to be somehow beautiful. As long as he was trying, there could be success, and she believed that he would succeed. His body was not useless. The sudden change, as she had gathered it to be, had simply put his mind into shock. She had felt it before: once when her mother had been killed and again upon the fields of ice.... But, when she had first discovered that she was a luperci, the shift had been slow, invoked by her calmed and willing mind. The sensation had been like nothing she had ever known, but she had not been afraid. That had been nearly a moon before the turning of her second year.... There was very little that she feared, and even he was dead now.
She was pulled from her contemplations by the sudden scraping of the claws against the floor. He had managed to pull himself to his feet, although he struggled with the new shape he had now taken. For a moment, she was still. "Good," the quiet melody commended when the boy began to panic once more. But she did not move to help him. Had she moved now, she believed that she would have hindered his progress, and she did not wish to do such an injustice upon him. We live as we Dream, she reminded herself: Alone. But for the warrior, the concept of ‘alone’ and of solitude was beautiful, like the song of the silver pre-dawn just as the golden light of the sun began to warm the distant horizon. She knew that others did not live as she. Most other warriors did not live as she. But simply because she loved that pulchritudinous solitude did not mean that she was eternally alone.... She had found love. And now, also, she carried life. "You’re doing fine."
The woad-marked warrior turned, her fluid movements disrupted by the limp of her right leg. Briefly, before she reached for the decorated shaft of the Raven Spear, the weapon of her Dreaming, the fingers touched the scar of a wound that had been stitched by her lover. With his thought, a soft song moved through her mind. The Spear hummed as she took it up, holding it horizontally against her healing leg as if the song would aid in its healing.
Turning to the soft sound that the boy made, the woman watched as he pushed himself against the wall. The white orbs sought the violet eyes of the young boy, and they sought his without the intensity that was often held within them. Her left hand relinquished its place upon the swell of her abdomen so that she may reach out to the struggling creature. She did not heed the quiet warning that suggested that she not use that limb for the wound upon her neck would not yet allow much strain. But the woman figured that the boy would require the gesture more than she. "Come," she bid quietly, the soft song nearly whispered upon the silent air. "Let’s go outside." Although the world without was not as bright as the sun could have commanded, the fresh air and the lack of the confining walls would allow the boy’s mind to think more clearly—or so she thought, for the woman did not like the confines that she felt by the human edifices. It was as if they sought to subdue the wild freedom of her soul.
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[html] 300, omg so sorry for lateness
She said that he was doing fine, and a grateful, yet not fully convinced, smile was sent in her direction. The boy’s eyes however, stayed firmly on the ground. It felt so wrong, so how could this possibly be right. There was no other way though, because it seemed like his back legs had increased in length, so it would not at all be comfortable to pad around on four legs anymore. This fact was horrible. It was hard to force his mind to maintain this calm, because this body was a prison and he had no idea of for how long he would be trapped in it. Nails scratched helplessly against the human made wall, finding no assistance. Why did she not help him? He wanted to cling to the pregnant woman like a cub, hang on to her and let his legs go limb. He wished Alexey was here and held him, because she was the rock in his life. Alexey was out and all he had was the intriguing woman with the moonlit eyes.
A tormented grimace came to life in his face when she said that they were to move out, and the boy could no longer keep his fear on bay. His breaths increased involuntary, but the boy nodded and reached for bravery. Slowly, he took his first step. There was pressure behind his eyes, but the tears kept their distance, luckily. He moved step by step, trailing the walls closer than a devoted shadow after its master. He wished the woman had not come so that he could have stayed on the floor, being his pathetic self waiting for Alexey to come save the world. Her hand seemed oddly far away, but he reached it and held on as if something horrible would happen if he was ever to let go. Once again it struck him how impossibly tall he was, because he did no longer have to look straight up to gaze into the woman's eyes. Everything seemed further away, and the boy slowly, so slowly walked towards the exit. He turned to look at the woman for reassurance, praying that she would not force him to take those first steps completely on his own just yet. "It feels weird." the boy commented, most of all because he was uncomfortable with silence. Perhaps she would not let go instantly then either once they had gone outside.
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Don’t worry about it, ^w^~
500+
A faint, nearly imperceptible smile moved across her silent lips. As the young boy grasped her, his touch jarring and almost frantic within the woman’s mind, she grasped him in return, her grip tight and secure as if, just as before, she had caught someone who had fallen. And the woad warrior was silent, but she wanted to let him know that she was not going to let go of him, that she would not let him fall. The wild look within those lavender eyes allowed the woman to know the gravity of the situation, or the situation that the boy now experienced. Cwmfen held back a grunt that had threatened to escape. The weight of the boy upon the torn muscles of her neck sparked a familiar pain that moved like a river of fire. And yet, somehow, the warriors mind had transformed the burning into a warmth, and the pain and the cry were rendered silent. In that moment, it was the boy, not she, that required strength, and she would give it to him.
Slowly, the pregnant female took those steps toward the threshold. She walked steadily beside him, still grasping his hand. "All new things," the quiet voice replied, "are strange in the beginning." Carefully, the black fae stepped down, and yet her movements seemed to retain a natural speed and, despite the wounded leg, a natural grace. Turning the woman looked back to the boy, encouraging him to follow while she led. The warrior could help him, could allow him support so that he would not fall. But it was he who must make those steps. Already, the young wolf had done much on his own, and the black fae had watched him struggle with approval. She believed that, without struggle, nothing could be truly worthwhile. Her whole life had been a single struggle, but it had not been without wonders. "Already you have shown great strength," the soft melody sang in encouragement. She did not lie, for the woman did not waste her words with such a thing. But the woman had seen the fear and the uncertainty and the struggle, and already, slowly, he was overcoming it.
The Raven Spear rang sharply in her hands as the fleeting sun was caught upon the blade. And the woman breathed in deeply the cool air. Carefully and slowly, the woad-marked wolf led them into the grass, the plants whispering amiably in their wake. "I felt weird," the alto melody sang suddenly as the voice utilized the words the boy had used, "when I first joined this pack." It had been an unfamiliar thing, then, to be a part of a pack, to feel the security and to no longer be alone. And now, in return, the black fae defended her pack. Just as with the wounded, the black fae spoke occasionally to keep the mind of the other occupied. And perhaps, she thought, being able to relate would allow the boy to see that he was not alone. "Even now, bearing life, I feel weird." A soft, almost sad smile came to her woad-bound maw. "But in the end, we will persist." The fluid movements ceased and the Spear grew silent.
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[html] 500
Her words were so odd, but there was a great amount of truth in them. Lilac eyes finally left the ground for a moment to gaze up at her. She was not that might taller than him at the moment, but it was very evident that he was a child and she an adult. Her markings were odd, just like her eyes. He had seen a large number of Dahlia’s members, both up close and from afar, but so far this woman was the only individual with such strange markings. The boy’s ears perked. She was pretty in a special way, exotic and mysterious. His maw dipped up and down in an understanding nod at her words. So, even if it felt wrong and odd to walk right now, this was only a temporary feeling. He should not be afraid. It was hard to step down, and those lilac eyes were glued to the adult’s feet as she did, and he slowly copied the way she had moved her feet. There was no elegance whatsoever in him, but this was something that would come with time. At one point he felt as if he was going to fall, but her strong hand was his saviour, and his feet somehow managed to stay on the ground, but the swaying made his stomach turn a bit. It was because everything was so far away and it was not used to it. The boy’s free hand usually swayed in the loose air or held on to something, but now when they were out of the house, he had nothing else to reach for, and he felt secure enough to let that oddly clawed hand reach his belly and stroke it slowly. He was stroking his own belly. He had never done so before. It was odd but at the same time also amazing.
The boy’s ears slightly folded in mild embarrassment when the woman complimented his strength. He suspected that this was an individual that did not shower around with compliments daily, so he absorbed those warming words and stored them close to his beating heart. ”Thank you.” the boy expressed, feeling grateful beyond anything. She did not know him, but she had reached out to him and helped. Alexey would be so amazed and proud if she came home and saw him walk around on two legs without falling. The boy’s cheeks suddenly blushed at the thought of impressing the puppy sitter. Her words turned some attention to her belly, and the boy was suddenly filled with curiosity, almost forgetting about his deformed body and how wrong it was to walk on two feet. ”Life.” the boy simply repeated, finding large meaning in the word. ”Could I touch, miss?” he carefully asked, only asking because he ached to do so. He wanted to feel the unborn life. There was innocence there, something that he had lost all too quickly. He wanted to feel on what he had once been and what he had lost so long ago.
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Oh, and at this time it’s around a month into her pregnancy, so I’m not sure if he’d feel any movement, ^=^
500+
The pain that cried out upon her neck continued to be tried and strained, but the warrior was accustom to it. She could feel it and recognized that it was there, but she did not necessarily register the intensity of pain. Her tolerance was unnaturally high, almost dangerously so, and had she aided a larger creature in the same manner, the healing that had closed the wound may have been undone. But she knew her body, and she knew that the boy would not overcome such a thing, and so she allowed him to put his weight upon her even as they stepped upon the grass and moved into the warmer light of the sun. Her peripheral caught the movement of his hand upon his belly, but he did not show signs of sickness and so the woman did not respond to such a thing. And to his thanks, a soft smile lit upon her face, although it was an imperceptible thing that could have gone unnoticed.
The white orbs considered the boy for a moment, his request falling upon the woad-banded aurals. It was a strange thing to ask, for she was not accustomed to allowing others to touch her. Yet, she had given to the boy her own touch—the grasp of a hand, even an embrace. And the boy had asked permission. His curiosity was not of her but of the life that grew within her. A hint of curiosity flickered within those white orbs darkened by prior days. She wondered what he would find when he touched her, wondered if he viewed the world as she. Would he be able to feel a light or a dark from that touch? She herself could know nothing, for her mind was disordered by the conflict within her own soul touched by hollow blackness as cold as Death and yet living. It was heavy, and it weighed her down, and she fealt as if she might drown in it. But she struggled on her own, her soul grasping a single song that sung with light within her. And yet, despite the turmoil, she retained a calmness, a tranquility and a quietness without fear but with struggle. And she struggled to keep darkness from the lives so that they may be born without taint. The warrior’s eyes watched the boy as if from a distance, as if considering him, wondering. A single nod was given in return. Her own hand slid away from the belly accented by a single, woad trail to the navel. The boy would feel nothing save for the warmth of her body and the heartbeats that were separate from her own.
"Can you feel life there," the soft song asked, her head tilting ever so slightly. There was only a faint smile upon her maw. The Raven Spear hummed in question, and it was as if, in the absence of the pied bird that trailed her as Death trailed warriors, the weapon leapt with life within her grasp. And yet, it was a life that she could not further for the pregnancy and wounds that weighed down upon her body. And she had Dreamt that it would be so, and she had known that it would be so. And so it was the warrior’s acceptance that allowed the hint of a smile to touch her lips, and it was the black soot that dampened it and made her silent.
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[html] 700+ Conor would love to go see her now when the puppies are born. Up for another thread when this one is finished?
She almost seemed to hesitate, but allowed him to touch. Conor understood very little of this woman. Her general behaviour, her unique appearance, even the thoughts she seemed to possess. His lilac pools reached out for hers in a final acknowledgement that only eyes could grant. Then, very slowly and with extreme care, his hybrid limb stretched out to her belly and settled lightly on top of her swollen abdomen. The first thought that struck him was that it was warm, but this was of course the future mother’s own skin temperature, and had very little to do with the unborn souls that were developing inside of her. The Soul child held his breath in quiet awe, although he could feel nothing mysterious move under her fur and skin. Although he was in a young age where such things could be considered as something gross or weird, Conor felt something entirely different. There was life within her, and they would be born and grow up and become like he and the oddly marked female. Life, something that the females could create. It was odd. Conor knew little about sex and that this was a direct result of just that. He just knew that this woman was able to create something that he could not. Something that his father and mother should not have. He did not regret life, but he regretted that he had been born from two monsters.
His innocent eyes had now gazed upon her abdomen for almost a minute before they returned to her moonlit pools. ”You are lucky. They will grow up and become something beautiful.” There was no doubt in the boy’s mind that whatever rested inside her womb was completely pure and beautiful. He knew nothing of what had happened in the woman’s life, of what she thought rested within her. Conor knew though. She was their mother and they would be a part of her. For a moment he pondered if he should dive into jealousy and depression once again, but this was not a particularly tempting choice. There was no way that he could change who and what he was. His blood was that of the demonic Lilium and the expelled mad woman. Both of his parents were wicked, but Conor chose to believe that he was nothing like them. He had loved his mother dearly – still did, though it was nothing more than what was required in order to be grateful for having been given life. He was an orphan, though Alexey was his only parent. The pack would later become his ultimate strength, because they would be there for the boy when his biological family would not. ”I know they will..” he breathed out, wondering when they would be born.
Despite knowing, he felt no life under that temperate skin of hers. Reluctantly, he let his hand fall, and for a moment the boy only stared at that hand. Paw and hand, he had two different bodies. The boy did not notice, but with the main attention elsewhere, the body drew balance and strength from within and stabilized him instinctively as if he had been born to walk on two feet. ”I could not feel it, but I know it’s there.” he finally answered the woman, looking up at her and granting her one of his uncommon smiles. He was grateful. ”My name is Conor.” he suddenly revealed, uncertain if she knew who he was already. It had been Alexey’s house, and perhaps she knew that he was living there. Formality was a necessity nevertheless. He only wanted her to think good of him. ”Are you looking forward to become a mother?” the boy then wondered, words floating with an ease not common for those at his age. He always had been slightly different, quieter, than the rest of the young population of ‘Souls. He had grown up too quickly, though he wished for nothing more to reach adulthood and officially start to steer the direction of his own life.
The boy thought of his demonic father, of all that he wished not to become. It was already apparent that he was nothing like those that had created him, despite that the odds had worked against the Lilium’s true born litter. Genes did not control one’s life, and Conor was determined to prove his father wrong. He was not a failure.
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700+
Wounded creatures were made aggressive, were turned wild and feral by instinct; they did not welcome contact. And the warrior, both physically and spiritually, suffered from wounds, and she did not welcome contact as well. But the boy’s asking of permission and her granting of it had lessened the instinctual aggression. As his hand was gently placed upon the swollen abdomen within which held life, the woad-marked fae was still. The awe that moved through the boy was the same, in essence, as that which moved through her it was the contradiction that aided in the confliction of the still waters of her soul, that awe and disgust. The awe that she carried life where she should not. But the diluted emotions did not emerge as strongly as within the boy, or as within others. She met his lilac gaze. Lucky. A soft smile moved across her lips as the moonlight across a pool’s surface. "That is all that I would ask of them," the quiet melody admitted, intrigued by the boy’s perception of the life within her.
At length the hand fell from her skin, and the warrior watched it briefly before finding the boy. A soft and yet imperceptible smile moved across her maw. She did not ‘feel’ the life within her, as his use of that word suggested, and yet it was not that sort of thing that she had asked. Or perhaps it was a thing that only she could feel. Her own hand moved as if to replace the lost contact. She could feel life there, not a pulse, nor any sort of movement, nor even the warmth of another’s body. It was something that she could see within her mind—a light in the darkness, white and yet red and yellow as both sunrise and sunset can behold within their clouds. But she could not see within those clouds: was the light of the lives white and pure, or was it black and tainted? Or was it greyed? She could not see for the wounding of her own soul that spilled through her and obscured all, slippery and treacherous as blood of the wounded. But the warrior nodded in silent agreement: she knew, too, that it was there, that life was there, and that it was within her.
Conor, the wolf’s mind repeated, and she placed that name and that face with the scent, tucking them within the back of her mind. She knew that the boy must have been one of Firefly and Haku’s boys. It seemed that, after many months, she had finally met one. "Conor Soul," the quiet voice greeted with that elegant formalty. "Cwmfen nic Graine," the female offered in return, the woad-bound maw dipping slightly in the respect that she offered to all, that she offered even to the young. And yet, the respect given to Conor was more than that given to mere acquaintances.
The boy’s final query caused the woad warrior to pause. The white orbs turned from her own swollen burden to the boy’s purple eyes. Was she glad? Such an emotion wasn’t one that could quite describe what the woman felt, what she experienced. Yet, she did not think either that what she felt was causing her to ‘look forward’ to being a mother. Their birth would immediately render her with such a title. But their birth would also be the whelping of the lives made of a black seed. These lives within her, they were of incest, and they betrayed the love that she had for Onus. And she did not ‘look forward’ to giving that to the one that she loved. And the lives—would they be as black and hollow as the crow-wolf? Should such a thing come to pass, the warrior would destroy them, and if not she then Onus. The future, although she knew not of it and her Dreams told her naught, seemed darker than she would wish for the birthing of live. But, although she could not see, the Raven Dreamer had heard, too, that this was a gift, and she had heard it from the Raven’s mouth itself. "I am resolved to that Fate," the quiet melody replied at last, "and I shall be content with what shall come to pass." She did not think that this young boy would understand the ideals of her peculiar warrior’s path, but she spoke without deception or dilution.
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300+
It all goes, all goes by
She liked the woman when she smiled. He was almost ashamed of the fact that he had been so scared of her in the beginning. Her appearance was unique, but those white orbs held only goodness in them. So many good individuals here. He had just been very unlucky with his parents. The rest of this pack held only kind souls, it seemed. He liked that. A lot. Her name was just as odd as the rest of her, but it sounded nice. ”Cwmfen.” the boy repeated as if to himself, getting familiar with her name. Again he thought of how much he liked her. That smile on his lips was as sincere as anything, and his tail moved contently behind him. She spoke with strange words that held strange meanings and he failed to understand what she truly meant. It was okay though, because there was a comfortable atmosphere that allowed loose ends.
The boy looked down on his feet and lost his smile, though his eyes still sparkled with wonder. He was standing tall and it felt okay. Slowly, his hand let go of hers, and he was on his own. It felt alright. His eyes returned to her and he smiled once again. ”No hands.” he said with a soft voice, slowly raising his hands op in the air to further underline the fact that he was standing all on his own. It felt amazing. Strange how emotions could change into the opposite on so short notice. He would walk around on two legs when Alexey would come home, and what a surprise that would be! He beamed like the sun itself at that thought. ”Thank you, Cwmfen.” his light tones sang with true appreciation going strong all the way.
His lilac gaze turned back to the house, but his feet brought him in a circle around the woman. He was the one in control now, not his fear. Finally.
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