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 Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2009 6:00 pm
As he brought his muzzle close to her fur Xanthe couldn't help but become a little uncomfortable at the action. Though she knew that she herself would have no qualms or thoughts of doing it herself to another wolf, and was sure at some point she had. It was just.....unexpected, was all.
Shifting on her toes just softly as he spoke, Xanthe looked up at Cyclops. It was certainly a grim prospect, it seemed. But it was so exciting. "But they never succeed. Good always triumphs evil, even when hope seems lost." The words came out almost as though they were rehearsed. They were close. They were themes from the tales she was so enthralled with, she had memorized and kept them close to heart.
"It wouldn't make sense were it another way." Unknowingly, she rudely dismissed his views on the topic. But was too concerned at what he asked of her next. Ears pulled erect once more as she watched him, secretly smug knowing that he couldn't see. One more question of life answered. It was more fun awaiting in anticipation for those to answer it themself without asking.
"I'm..." Xanthe giggled, realizing that she had to actually go through the motions of looking at herself to remember what she looked like. "It's sad when you have to look to recall." She laughed, shaking her neck fur of a few stubborn prickle branches. "My coat is yellow, but people say I have white 'wings' on my back. My eyes are the colour of the clouds at sunset, my toes are white and my legs and tail..." The female quickly turned back to check. "Are both brown." She affirmed quickly, stifling a laugh.
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Posted: Sun Nov 29, 2009 9:00 pm
Cyclops moved away and shook his head. Was she young, or innocent, or both? Or simply optimistic, but... ultimatums tended to show a lack of experience. Still, someone had to be hopeful, right?
"I thought so, too, when I was young...," he said, not meaning to be condescending, but it probably could be taken that way. He hadn't meant to imply she was a child, yet in his mind, he did. He wouldn't deny her ideals outright, though.
But hadn't he been hopeful, once?
He focused as she described her own form, the words swimming in his mind and forming a transient picture. It wasn't exact, nothing like looking, but the vague female shape he'd held in his mind morphed into a sunny body with white and brown streaks. He tried to think of what her eyes could look like, but he couldn't remember the colors right. Red? Pink? Purple? Blue? Grey? He wasn't going to ask; he felt he'd been nosy enough, and appreciated her telling him.
He wanted to ask her another question, as he often did, about how she saw him, but held his tongue. Instead, he nodded his head. "Thank you, Xanthe," he said. "And, I suppose, your yellow coat is all full of brambles now, is it not?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 05, 2009 10:27 am
The words for a moment confused the sun-coloured femme and she turned her head to look at him out of one eye. Was he implying he was an old man? Though she saw the fearsome scars above his eyes there was not a hint of grey she saw in his maw, no gimp in his step.
Xanthe could not personally recall an incident where she had known evil. Just what had he gone through that'd made him say that? Though the general mood was dampened, she was once more brought all-ears. He must've been a sort of knight, a battle-scarred warrior with stories of triumph and loss.
"As long as you're alive, evil has not won." Xanthe breathed softly, purple auds glancing up to his face. Evil was ever-lasting sleep, because to her life was a gift. To steal that was the worst evil. But still she was more than happy to change the subject, and with a tension-relieving bird-like laugh she nodded.
"And sticks and thorns." The female seemed almost proud of this, though she knew many who would've been taken abashed.
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Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2010 12:24 am
Cyclops' shoulders slumped, almost imperceptibly. It was so easy to say words like that, until one realized just how easy dying was. The living, that was the hard part. Sometimes, life hurt, and the more one watched death happen all around them... the more their own living ached.
Cyclops knew evil. He knew it in its obvious forms -- the wolves who had killed his family and left him blind. Yet he also knew it could lurk anywhere, in any wolf, a tiny, dangerous seed. When his mate killed the puppies...
Stop it.
A wall went up in his mind; an immense wall that shielded the part processing the here-and-now from the memories.
"You should pull them out soon," he said, but his voice had taken on an almost absent tone, "or they'll snarl."
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2010 4:13 pm
"I suppose..." He didn't appear as impressed as she'd hoped. The rugged explorer, forging paths through perilous plants, wriggling around in the dirt.
Her brothers would've been proud of her. Or at least tolerate her presence a bit more. Even that would've been reward enough. Her mother and aunties always tried to keep her away from all of that, the dirt, mud, filth. It was unlady-like, they would scold, nipping her behind the ear, not the way for a girl to behave. But perhaps she just wasn't born to be a lady, not one to sit stoic and tense for what seemed to be an eternity, never leaving the 'safety' of the den-site while the male members romped through the woods, hunting and guarding the lands. Xanthe could remember her father leading patrols, waking her littermates up early before sunrise, whispering excitedly and shuffling about and taking them to practice hunting on the outskirts. She could never come.
Her head ticked forwards from it's slowly dropping place, one ear pulled back in annoyance while the other stood at attention. "Is something wrong?"
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Posted: Fri Jan 15, 2010 11:23 pm
"Of course not," Cyclops replied, his voice still distant. He swung his head from one side to the other, almost as though he were looking for an exit -- though of course, he couldn't see one. He was retreating into himself again; the perpetual loner, unable to take the presence of others for too long. They made memories flow fast and thick, and his thoughts always caught on the unhappy ones. He began once more to pace along the bushes, but paused before taking his leave.
"We've been much too loud for fairies," he said softly, "and much too dark. I should leave you to your hunt."
With that, he continued on his trail, one shoulder always brushing against the hedge so he wouldn't loose his way. His head was low, presumably so he could scent easier -- but he probably wouldn't have lifted it, anyway.
Please keep looking for your fairies, Xanthe, he thought to himself. Someone has to.
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