take it on the other side
06-05-2019, 10:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-05-2019, 10:33 PM by Muses.)
She had to wonder what made him so consistent in his tone. To her benefit, he spoke clearly, the undulating line of his voice maintaining a steady rhythm, suggesting there was nothing to fear or doubt. He otherwise moved and smelled just as any other wolf might; his unique markers laced with something familiar that all canines seemed to have. It did not take much more prompting for her to trust him, for it was easily given as she yearned to see only the best in those she interacted with.
Only when the dark wolf became still did she move as well, carefully mimicking his posture, eyes trained to this distorted image beneath the slow moving stream. She took the time to observe the rocks and debris at the bottom of the bed, noting where clumps of branches and plant matter had become trapped, providing shelter for fish. As water flowed around their limbs, and insects buzzed at their flanks, the fish eventually came out from hiding, lazily propelling themselves in the shallows. Yet it was not the task that Muses found herself focusing on, but rather the solemn soldier standing alongside her.
She was perceptive, not supernaturally gifted, beyond her unique way her brain processed sound. There was nothing to hear, no sound emanating from the flame-licked obsidian statue. He had made himself organic, belonging there as patch of reeds might, one with the languid flow of the stream. His focus was mesmerizing, inspiring her to do her best as a huntress. When his question came, barely two notes raised upon a passing breeze, she twitched her ears, front to back, as a flag of confirmation. They sprung upon their prey in unison, each focused intently on a target. Water sprayed upward as an instance of chaos exploded; the climax of the hunt, the moment of uncertainty before the results were revealed.
Rearing upward, a cascade of water poured from her cracked maw, barren jaws flanked by dark lips that turned downward in rueful disappointment. Turning sheepishly back to Lament, she shrugged with practiced acceptance of failure, and craned her neck in rather surprising eagerness to see if the male had caught anything.
"Speech."
Only when the dark wolf became still did she move as well, carefully mimicking his posture, eyes trained to this distorted image beneath the slow moving stream. She took the time to observe the rocks and debris at the bottom of the bed, noting where clumps of branches and plant matter had become trapped, providing shelter for fish. As water flowed around their limbs, and insects buzzed at their flanks, the fish eventually came out from hiding, lazily propelling themselves in the shallows. Yet it was not the task that Muses found herself focusing on, but rather the solemn soldier standing alongside her.
She was perceptive, not supernaturally gifted, beyond her unique way her brain processed sound. There was nothing to hear, no sound emanating from the flame-licked obsidian statue. He had made himself organic, belonging there as patch of reeds might, one with the languid flow of the stream. His focus was mesmerizing, inspiring her to do her best as a huntress. When his question came, barely two notes raised upon a passing breeze, she twitched her ears, front to back, as a flag of confirmation. They sprung upon their prey in unison, each focused intently on a target. Water sprayed upward as an instance of chaos exploded; the climax of the hunt, the moment of uncertainty before the results were revealed.
Rearing upward, a cascade of water poured from her cracked maw, barren jaws flanked by dark lips that turned downward in rueful disappointment. Turning sheepishly back to Lament, she shrugged with practiced acceptance of failure, and craned her neck in rather surprising eagerness to see if the male had caught anything.
Current time: 11-25-2024, 12:21 AM
Powered By MyBB, © 2002-2024 MyBB Group.
