Black Holes and Revelations

N/A · 05-14-2013, 01:38 AM

Silver hued ears would pin back against her cranium, but as the words of hatred and degradation began to spew from the woman's maw, the raw emotion would vanish from the dames face. Her maw would contort into a solid mask of unreadable ice. Even her eyes as bright and as brilliantly blue as they were, would turn to utter stone. The bitch before her could belittle and accuse all she wished. Her words would mean nothing to the once addict. She had not told the pretty fae that Valhalla had harmed her, she didn't tell the woman that Valhalla was not paradise, at least in her eyes. The woman, no matter how mature she seemed, still had a lot to learn, but Luce wasn't here to sneer and to snap. No matter how thickly the taste of blood filled her mouth from how hard she bit down upon her tongue. She could still the waggling appendage and take the belittlement with an air of dignity.

In all reality... who won here? It certainly wasn't Valhalla, this dame seemed to hate Neo all the more now that he returned, Neo, from the way the pup had described it, had never been happy here, whether the plans he made in his head were a fantasy derived from the bitterness of a stubborn child, or true fact, it mattered little to the silvery dame. neo didn't want to be here and they didn't want him. He had chosen her, he had picked her. Valhalla could proclaim greatest and family and kindness until throats were raw, emotions sprang up tears and the very core of the pack fell to the ground in exhaustion... but at the end of the day... she had been chosen, she would still be chosen if given the chance and there was no venom, no hatred, no malice that this woman could spew to her or to Neo that would change that fact. Neo loved her and in her own twisted way, Luce loved Neo.

"Answer me this... pack mentality has always been a bit of a gray area for me... having grown up in a steel box... from the way Neo spoke of Valhalla, he hated it from the moment he placed a paw within its borders. Why not just let him go back then? Why keep him for so long? Why chain him like a prisoner watching his hatred grow? Even if he had never met me, his hatred for Valhalla was... intense. Who won by keeping him here? Who gained anything from such intensity? Certainly not he and certainly not Valhalla. You speak as though I twisted his mind, manipulated him into some wicked scheme. I hugged him, soothed his tears and spoke a few words of encouragement, nothing more, he choose to leave because he was miserable here and whether his ideals are true or not, you claimed him as an object, a piece of property once lost, now returned. Whatever Valhalla's intentions towards him and wherever Neo's aversions towards Valhalla stemmed from, he obviously hated it here. Who won by forcing him to stay? And for that matter who wins now? You claim him a slave and clearly your hatred from him even tarnishing your land is strong enough to break your composure, I doubt many others if any at all have a better reaction. Neo certainly doesn't win, nor will my unborn litter... so what's the point? A bit of pride? Self-esteem? Honor?" Her words held no bite, no malice, if anything curiosity laced within her tones. She wanted the womans honest to God opinion, not some rehearsed line about unity and pride... she wondered if the woman would give it to her, or if she would merely spew more vile hatred. Luce's head would shake, falling as though something aside from the woman before her had already broken her, and perhaps it had.

Crystalline blues would slide shut in their exhaustion before they slid open once again. "Despite how disgusting you find this entire situation, I thank you for allowing me to tell him. You didn't have to give me that and you deserve, at the very least, my gratitude." She would dip her head in silent gesture of thanks and recline back upon her haunches. She never should have left the humans. She never should have escaped. She would have pulled and pulled and pulled until her muscles tore and her bones finally cracked, carting all of those supplies across the snow covered mountains. She would have lived until she turned three or four, give or take and they would have planted a bullet between her eyes, it seemed a kinder life than the one amongst her own kind.

Speech,

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