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10-15-2014, 09:50 PM
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Bellona
weakness in the flesh, misery in the bones The beauty and her beast are silent as they travel, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company as they walk among the shadows. While his mother goes over the most recent of her battles, analysing her memories for any improvements to be made, the pup takes his time in investigating the land, running after the Aztec only when she ventures too far. It is a happy medium for the pair to have reached tonight, for the maiden has come to appreciate their bond at last. Ever since her spat with the drunkard a new sense of kinship has blossomed between the two of them, and from that moment onwards she has treated the boy not as a follower, but as an ally. Perhaps it is because of her budding relationship with the shifting beast that she notices his absence so quickly. Mictla? Where have you run off to, pilpil? His only reply -- as always -- is silence, yet even so her concern for him seeps through the annoyance in her words. Although the maiden can detect no fear from him, she can't help but to think that he's gotten into some sort of trouble. Long tendrils slowly rise from the Aztec's taut bodice and blunt weapons mash the greenery beneath them. Before her anxiety can get the better of her, though, the Chieftess gives her boy one last chance to answer. Show me where you have gone, boy, so that I can find you again. It is the most sincere of her demands since his hatching, and as if to commemorate the occasion -- not that he is daft enough to ignore her -- the boy projects the image of flickering flame. Orange eyes gleam almost as brightly as the fire they search for, coaxing bold ears and quivering nares to join them as they scour the darkness. Apparently the bird has been so caught up in the memories of her spar that she has forgotten to survey her surroundings; bright pools land on their target just as a resonating whisper pierces dark audits. The shame that has begun to heat bright cheeks gives way to the uncertainty that comes with the summons, and the moonlit beauty erupts in a feathered flurry to investigate the source of the voices. The urgency in which she moves does not go unnoticed by others, however, and in the effort of relieving some of the strain from her aching form the pup fills their psychic link with assurance. His claim causes the warrior to hesitate, but striped legs are quick to pick up the pace again; she is far too curious to heed his words right now. Rather than try to argue with her, though, the rougarou returns to bounding around the flame. When the laboring vixen reaches the fire at last, bright eyes stare into the blaze to watch it emit its light. A fatigued body does not move to join in the dance, but magnificent wings do shift to encourage it. The warmth of the flames is appreciated at this hour even if the prospect of dancing is not. "You can enjoy it for me, Mictla," is the bird's only offering to the blaze. "talk talk talk" {pilpil -- "child."} |
Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!
