We meet again

N/A · 09-12-2013, 04:39 PM

Wolf from dawnthieves, manip by Ocena. Character belongs to Deneke!

The fair pelted Russian maiden cringed ever so slightly as the autumn man's words brought back embarrassing memories. She leant him a sheepish smile, her deceptively delicate cranium tilted downwards as she looked up at him with her beautiful silver pools.

"That would be a no, my dear friend. I haven't had nightmares since I arrived, the time on the island was but an exception to that fact."
She told him, uttering a faint laugh. Her voice was like silk, only softer, smoother, more enticing. She lightly rubbed her head against her close friend, glad for his company. In truth, she had been feeling quite lonely lately, without many others to meet, talk to, the likes. With her friend Song married to Cherokee, and caring for pups, the ever so socially awkward Aurora was left alone. Now that Siarvon was here, she had someone to converse with.
His question posed an interesting story, one that bubbled up from the shadows of her infinite mind like a pheonix rising from the grave, a legend that ran through the veins of every one of her packmates. Raising her head, she yawned once, tired, but never one to give up a good story. So, she met his gaze squarely, and launched into her tale.

"It was a tradition carried by my family for generations. The binding of two spirits, so that they may be blessed with the attributes of each other in the afterlife. When a pup was old enough, he or she was sent out on their first hunt, and was to come back with the first creature they found, a creature that would be killed with the most respect an honor a wolf can bestow. Most were avian, birds, that is. I caught a raven, a bird though of as a messenger of the underworld, which would bestow the most fantastic of wings in the afterlife, but the price of which is a dark side in the present life. When I brought her back, the Shaman removed two feathers, one from the tail, to lend steering and balance in the afterlife, and one from the right wing, to bestow healthy wings in the next life. Then, one must choose where these feathers would go. My father had his hanging from his temple, my mother, from her chest fur. I remember, the last King had caught a mole as a pup, and had the claws set like three horns on his head. I however, decided to put them in my tail, the least showy place, yet the most important part of lupine anatomy. So, they inserted the feathers into a hole in my flesh, binding the spirit of the raven with mine. It was an indescribable experience, feeling the great bird's spirit flow into mine. As the wound heals, your body will either reject the other spirit, and the feathers will fall out, or it will be accepted, and they will become part of you forever."
She told him, her voice slowly falling into the rhythm of the story, feeling the rise and fall of the legend as it is told, her infinite mind drawing up the memory of when her father told her the story, her voice telling the story in a softer, feminine version of her fathers. With a sigh, she released a secret that she had kept within her for all her life.

"If there is ever a man who will love a wolf ugly as me, I hope to carry on this tradition in honor of my pack, as the last remaining survivor."
She whispered, her voice nearly inaudible, the sadness and self hatred filling the otherworldly, musical tones of her vocals so thick one coudl wonder how she had the will to go on.

"speech!"

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