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Her den, ^=^
700+
The morning was already old when the black wolf emerged from her den. She was silent, her form imperceptible as she stood there unmoving. She was, simply, a shadow cast by the light upon a branch, a leaf even. And she listened as she stood in stillness. The forest was quiet, the air whispering a quiet song as the distant brook sighed upon its way from the spring. The trees breathed deeply, and the warrior breathed with them, her eyes closing as the woad-bound ears searched for the deeper sounds of treading feet. There was a flutter of wings—not the Raven’s, but a softer sound. The birds whistled, and a soft smile graced the woad-bound maw. Her eyes opened. There was no creature in dangerous proximity, and the mother was satisfied. The pups dozed in the safety of the den with their bellies filled with her milk, and the world without was safe. For now. With silent fluidity she stepped from the mouth of the den and shifted.
The tenderness of the wound upon her thigh continued to persist. As the shift was completed and the optime form donned, she paused to rub away the discomfort of that wound. Much time was still required to pass before the healing would be complete for the wound was deep and to the bone. It was several moments before the healing wound could be assuaged, and then the warrior moved to the weapons that leaned upon the great, watchful oak. Woad-bound fingers tentatively touched the shaft of the Raven Spear, its song leaping aggressively to life. A soft smile played across her quiet lips, but she did not grasp the weapon. Instead, she moved the Badb and took up the blade. Its song rang with lessened triumph, for it had been that weapon that had seen defeat by Corvus’ hand. Her left hand was placed upon the blade in a soothing manner, and Badb rang with the reassurance. Standing with a distance from the den, she breathed deeply. This place was not as open as the field within which she normally held such practices, but it would suffice. She would not return to that place with the purpose to train until the pups could travel greater distances. Until then, she would wait.
The woad warrior’s body remembered the songs and forms of war. She had practiced often since the opening of the twins’ eyes, and already her body had doffed the softness of idleness and had regained the crisp, controlled precision of a practiced warrior. The black fae found that there was less to regain than she had anticipated. Already, nearly all had been regained. But she did not seek to simply stop there. There was much to be learned still, to allow herself to rise above defeat, to rise above weakness. Without her fear of Corvus, for it was that alone which had been gained (or, more properly, relinquished) by her defeat that night nearly three moons ago, there was much to be realized.
Several hours of strenuous training had passed before the wound forced her to stop. She paused, th heat rising from her body and her breathing only slightly labored. The white orbs that seemed to exude their own light regarded the blade with approval before she moved slowly to relinquish the blade at its spot beside the Spear. Soft sounds caused her to turn, and she found that the pups had awaken. Chastity’s white and black eyes regarded Honor, who watched his mother, before turning to find Cwmfen. She responded with a silent smile before she strode over, kneeling before them despite the soreness in her thigh. The younglings rolled out of the tunnel and into the soft, welcoming foliage before they approached their mother. Woad bound fingers touched both gently, cupping their small faces affectionately before she sent them silently to play. The boy and girl moved diligently to the nest before playing with each other, soft growls and mewls rising quietly upon the golden afternoon air. Cwmfen sat upon the grass, the white orbs watching her children as she rubbed the thigh once more to alleviate tension. The woad bound ears lifted at the sound of approach, but it was a sound, although different, that she recognized. Without the presence of danger, the warrior’s eyes did not abandon the twins.
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[html] THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF WHAT WAS SACRED
IF THERE WAS I'M SURE WE'D BREAK IT
300+
Alexey had announced that Cwmfen now was a mother. Conor knew, with a touch of sadness in his heart, that he was not a close friend to the pack’s Adonis, and he knew that fresh mothers had short temper and were very protective of their young, especially in the start. Weeks had slowly come and gone, and the boy had finally set out to greet the new little souls into life and Dahlia. Just like the members of Dahlia had clutched him into their chests, he would welcome them as family, because that was what they would be in his eyes. He had never been by Cwmfen’s den before, but Alexey had pointed out the direction that he now followed. Alexey did not know about his visit today because the boy did not want to risk a denial again. If Cwmfen did not want to see him today (if she was home at all) then he would leave her alone.
The boy in his optime soon approached the giant tree that loomed protectively over the home of Cwmfen nic Graine, the woman with the moonlit orbs and kind heart. The soft hints of mewls rang gently in the air, but the boy’s lilac eyes sought for black with blue markings. He was a bit afraid because he did not know this woman well and was afraid to be a nuisance from first moment. Cinnamon coated ears flipped back in both submission and unease as he slowly stepped closer, finally discovering both the children and their mother. His eyes stuck to the mother, as there would probably be more than enough time to see the children if she would allow him to. She did not look at him as he slowly moved closer, but her ears detected grass bending under his weight, so she was aware of the intruder. It was only Conor though. He hoped that was sufficient. ”Cwmfen, it’s Conor. I’ve come to visit you.”
His words felt silly, at least in his opinion, but that was his simple intention for coming here. Surely she had seen it coming as well, for he had shown interest in them before their birth and his interest in them was even stronger now when he could see them.
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Sorry about the wait!!
500+
At long last the black fae lifted her head, her gaze easily, perhaps even suddenly, finding the youth who had spoken. A soft smile had graced her quiet lips, the smile as golden as the sun that moved through the trees. She dipped the woad-bound maw in respect and in greeting of the boy whose sire was her superior. The anger of Haku was both understood and not understood by the warrior, but still there was respect for the Lilium, for she knew of what he could do, of his prowess. Perhaps his wounds had made him aggressive, the black fae mused, for such a thing did occasionally characterize her self. She could see the likeness of the Lilium within the boy, but they were not the same, although she was not sure yet in what way. The woad warrior considered him for a moment more in silence as if she could see both everything and nothing about him. In her mind, a Raven’s voice sounded in the silence, resounding in the waters of her soul. She acknowledged that voice that fell silent and was silent too.
"Hello, Conor," the alto melody greeted once more. She rose then and approached him, her movements one and fluid. The pups had grown silent, still and wary of the stranger to whom their mother now moved. The dual coloured eyes of each pup were fixed upon the purple-eyed boy, their gaze curious and yet somehow hostile, unnerving. The twins did not move, nor did they watch their mother, but continued, in silence, to watch the Soul boy. The white orbs did not have to look to know that her pups had grown still, and she could see the shades of their forms through her periphery. But she was untroubled by their behavior, for it was not unusual in their behavioral patterns. Chastity shifted slightly, pushing up against Honor. The pied pup briefly removed his gaze to nuzzle his sister who so keenly resembled her father. But the show of affection had passed, was fleeting, and their gaze returned to Conor, as they understood his name to be.
The black fae paused, placing herself subconsciously between her pups and the boy. Instinct did not allow males to be near the young, and so, now aware that such a thing were so, she allowed herself to move. It was not a judgment against Conor, but the black fae was not one to disregard such intuition. "What occasion is it that you visit?" the soft melody rose in question. She wondered if there were occasions for visiting, or if there was something that the boy would like to ask of her. When Cwmfen made ‘visits’ to her packmate, it was often on such occasions unless the encounter was unplanned, in which a few words were exchanged. But the warrior did not simply make visits for mere pleasure; it was not a practical use of time, she believed. It was not that she found such visits unenjoyable, for she did enjoy understanding those around her. But the black fae was not a social creature, and she did not use her time as others did. Time was unpredictable, as were the events dictated by Time, and she was a creature that sought to be prepared for those unpredictable phenomena.
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[html] THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF WHAT WAS SACRED
IF THERE WAS I'M SURE WE'D BREAK IT
300+
When the female spoke up and spoke his name, the boy smiled brightly at her, believing the hardest part was over and done with. He stood there filled with patience and let her rise and approach him. He was far from sure of what he could expect, but he had thought that the two of them had gotten along rather well last time. She had picked him up from the floor when he was drowning in despair and fear and helped him find that inner peace. The boy felt the stares of the children, but he did not allow his gaze to falter away from the oddly marked Adonis. He could not wait to get a proper look at them. Conor had never truly seen small puppies before, and it had been really hard to wait this long before visiting the new mother and her small children.
When Cwmfen came closer, however, the boy noticed that she seemed to put herself between him and the children. A mild sensation of hurt caressed the boy’s cheek then, and suddenly he wished he had not come so soon. He did not fully understand the instincts a mother possessed, and thought that this meant that Cwmfen did not want him to see the puppies. Although her pose was not hostile, the boy had to take a step back. So filled with unease now. Occasion? The boy had to ponder for a split moment to remember what the slightly advanced word meant. ”I just wanted to come and say hello.”
What if that was not good enough? His hands had risen to his chest, and one hand clutched the other hand’s knuckles gently. It was almost too easy to see that the boy was nervous. ”... and to see how you’re doing and your children..” What a stupid idea this had been. Perhaps he should just go straight ahead and apologize then run for it.
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500+
The boy’s sudden change of mood was not understood by the warrior. She could see it, for it was held visibly within the boys posture, within his hands, within his face and eyes. The white orbs observed him quietly, the intensity with which they were accustom to holding shining as the moon does. Where once such intensity had been lessened for the Soul boy, now it remained unmasked. In the presence of the calmer boy, there seemed no need (although the need was subconscious) to lessen such a thing. A mild curiosity flickered within her eyes. It was a strange thing to the woad warrior to come merely to say ‘hello’. She was glad, then, that she had greeted him with that phrase. And yet, it did not seem to the black fae as if the boy were satisfied with the visit. It seemed almost as if the uneasiness within the boy grew. The warrior wondered if there was trouble, but there seemed no urgency within the boy.
When finally the boy’s voice continued, the woman understood a little more of the boy’s presence before her. A soft smile danced across her woad-bound maw. "I am doing well," the soft alto replied simply as the light Caledonian lilt danced upon the air like the golden leaves of autumn. When last she had seen the boy, there had been a shadow over her mind for it had been believed that it was her father’s seed planted within her. She knew now that such a thing were not so, and as they grew, the characteristics of their father’s appearance seemed to grow prominent over the initial dominance of the lupine genes. She knew that they were Onus’. Because the twins had been created in the throes of their love, the warrior could care for them with more than mere instinct. But the shadow continued to linger within her soul, and it bled like ink into her Dreams. It was as if the slain crow wolf had not truly been killed, as if his soul lingered upon the last thing that it had touched. And through rape, through each pinnacle of sinful passion, his soul had brushed against the brightness of her own, stealing the light away with the hunger of a spider’s fangs. And each morning...his touch upon her body lingered like the black hand of death, both exhilarating and sordid. But she kept it in the silent songs of night, in the sound of the Raven’s voice, for she knew that such a thing were meant to be kept in such a way.
"They are healthy," the soft song continued as she stepped aside to reveal them to him. The each pair of black and white orbs that each pup had taken from their parents watched the boy with their silence, commanding it now as both Cwmfen and Onus could. There was curiosity within their gaze, a strange innocence. While they were different genders, while they wore different shades, there was still the confusion that riddled the existence of all twins. The confusion lay in a deeper place, in souls both different and one. The woad-marked fae gave a curt gesture of a her maw that allowed the boy to come near. She turned and returned to the twins as they sat there, and she knelt and sat beside them. "They speak now," the soft alto explained when their silence ensued, "but their silence is greater." And yet, the warrior, it seemed, was satisfied by such a thing, almost pleased. And she was pleased, too, that her pups were strong—a mother’s pleasure, she supposed. The white orbs turned back to find the violet hues of the boy, a soft smile flickering like a light within them.
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[html] THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF WHAT WAS SACRED
IF THERE WAS I'M SURE WE'D BREAK IT
300+
He was very pleased to hear that she was doing well, and he truly appreciated the smile that lit up in the serene leader’s face. His distress was extinguished quite quickly when things seemed to work out smoothly. He recognized the unhealthy emotions first now when they were slipping away, and he mentally frowned at his own emotional state. ”I’m glad to hear.” the boy replied politely, and of course he meant it. It was strange to realize how far away the apple had fallen from the tree. His mixed fur silently revealed his heritage, but his heart was his own and though it was not without a scratch, it held the right colours. There was no darkness in the boy’s heart. The boy’s hands slowly fell and detached, and he was trying hard to loose up and show alternative colours other than the usually sad blues.
The boy smiled gratefully as the woman moved aside and let his eyes take in the two little things behind her. They were still staring at him as if they had been watching him all the time straight through their mother’s blocking body. Lilac eyes twinkled with wonder. They had grown inside her and now they had been birthed and were plain to see. The boy slowly crouched and rested his arms on his knees. Such an odd colouration on one of them. He had never seen anything similar. In addition, both of them had the most peculiar eyes. Those colours of swirling white and pitch black eyes were not a common sight, but both of the children had bi-coloured glances of black and white. Good and Evil? The boy pondered for a moment, but appearances could deceive, he knew this. His father’s eyes were the most beautiful and innocent blue one could come by, but he was the devil in the flesh.
The boy smiled at the children encourage. So they were old enough to speak now, she said? The two puppies seemed oddly quiet, but Conor too had been a serious and calm child, so it was not all that odd. ”Such pretty children. Hey there!” the young male cooed. Eyes were on the children, but his words were meant for Cwmfen also. Conor did not have a lot of litters to compare these with, but he believed in miracles and two of them were looking at him with black and white eyes.
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500+
A soft smile touched the woman’s quiet lips. The boy was polite and courteous—Alexey had taught him well. But the warrior trusted Dahlia’s Caregiver, and she had trusted the tawny fae enough to have her present in the whelping of the twins. The warrior would trust her again to watch the pups, and she could trust Conor to watch them too. Conor had helped her to understand a little more of motherhood, of nurturing. Such things were unfamiliar to the black fae, for she was a creature that harbored Death in attacks and carried Death at her heels. Indeed, she knew of love, and she knew of gentle touches and of passion. But these were not the same as the needs of motherhood. Love was a kind of warfare. Motherhood was a different Arena.
The boy’s comment caused the woad warrior’s thoughts to pause. Her mind considered that statement. Pretty, the boy had said. It was not a word that the woad-marked woman was accustomed to hearing. The mind held that word as one might hold a cool river stone, considering it, listening to its sound, hearing the shapes, seeing the colours. It was a single note in the symphony of the world, and yet it was not a note that often was heard. It was dissonant upon the warrior’s ears, and yet it was not unpleasant. The white orbs turned to her children. ‘Pretty’ was not the right word, but she nodded imperceptibly. "Thank you," the soft melody offered in return. They were beautiful. They were life that had formed within her by the seed of a man that she loved. While they did not allow her to move along the warrior’s path, while they were fetters upon the freedoms that she knew, she did not reject them, and she felt love for them, for these small creatures that often she had sought to avoid. Such things would not change—it was strange, she thought, that she could love her own.
Chastity, coloured like her father, growled at Conor’s cooing, her little maw wanting to distort into a snarl. Honor rose as he looked up at the older boy. Cwmfen, then, knelt beside the three and placed a soft, woad-bound hand upon her daughter’s shoulder. The young pup was silent then, although she still seemed to grudgingly watch the violet eyes with the intensity inherited by both parents. A touch was given to Honor as well, and he sat, offering his mother a brief glance before returning, with his sister, to the scrutinizing of the other wolf. The warrior had gently and yet sternly disciplined them as they had grown, preparing them for the training that they would no doubt receive; already they had shown signs of bellicose behavior, and it did not surprise her. Both she and Onus followed bellicose paths—why would their path be different? The warrior did not follow laws of science, unfamiliar with them as she was. White orbs returned to Conor. "I see that you have grown accustom to this shape," the quiet alto commented, referring to the proficiency of the use of the optime shape. She remembered when she had first met the boy, how he had struggled to understand the workings of that shape. But now he seemed to understand and move more naturally. Briefly, her mind wondered at the lateness of her own shift, but perhaps all creatures were different, she mused.
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[html] THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF WHAT WAS SACRED
IF THERE WAS I'M SURE WE'D BREAK IT
I fail 
Perhaps they were more than pretty, but Conor was a young boy and did not like to overdo such things. It was slightly embarrassing in an odd way. The little female growled at him and the boy’s light cinnamon ears slowly folded backwards, wondering what he had done wrong. ”Maybe even more than pretty.” the boy added warmly despite the hostility he felt he received. He knew that he should not judge the children’s behaviour, because they were very young and had their own ways. Cwmfen had always been special and unique and of course so were her children. Their bi-coloured eyes were astonishing, and he also found the male’s markings very interesting. He wondered if he would one day be a father. Who was these puppies’ father? Violet eyes automatically lifted to search for someone matching that title, but there was of course no one there.
He nodded at her words, smiling as he did. ”Yes, it feels natural now.” he then said, eyes slowly moving back to the two odd puppies. He wondered if they were talking yet. So many questions wanted answers, but he would not want to overwhelm the woman and be bothersome. Was it not because of them he had come? It was natural to be curious about new members of the pack after all. ”How is it to be a mother?” was that a stupid question? It could be anything, but he wanted to know everything. How was it to be a parent? Where had his parents failed? Oh, his destroyed childhood.. ”Did you know my mother..” these next words were whispered softly, a thick wave of anticipation.
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