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05-15-2016, 05:36 PM
Själ
Gentility was not something that had ever come naturally to the mare born of darkness and ice; and yet as Nymeria gazed numbly back at her, she understood suddenly that some situations required a tender touch. She saw her friend coming apart at the seams, watched with dismay as Nymeria drowned before her eyes. Själ had the feeling that if she pressed too hard, pushed too quickly, the wolf-mare would shatter completely. The princess could not allow that to happen. She would not allow that to happen. Nym, she might have whined, prodding for an answer, a reason to the darkness laid bare for the world to see; but instead she waited in silence, concerned gaze laid unwaveringly upon the wolf-mare. When had she grown to be so fond of this mare who was naught but a stranger, truly? What was it about Nymeria that drew the princess in, brought this new, protective urge to destroy whatever had harmed her friend to the surface? Never before had she felt such an unyielding rush of hatred -- for it to be directed at nothing in particular confused and almost frightened her. But all of this paled in the face of Nymeria's pain. Indeed, the princess hid her feelings well behind a mask adopted for Nymeria's protection. Själ dared not display her anger, not yet, not when she sensed such fragility in the mare who had been so strong for her. Yes she could not imagine the depths of anger that would wrack her soul when the skull-marked mare divulged her secret: he did things to me. And though the princess was not well-versed in the ways of men, had no true understanding of the things of which Nymeria spoke, could not fathom the situation that the wolf-mare found herself in -- she was infuriated all the same. "Who?" she snarled, venom suddenly sparking in her eyes. Her voice was tight, angry, her jaw clenching in an effort to calm and control the rage within. "Nym, tell me who." "Talk." --Ansgar.-- @Nymeria  |
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