Same Kind of Rush
06-02-2013, 06:02 PM
It was black as pitch both inside and outside the pack cave. Winter had come, and with it the clouds of great northern storms, just waiting to break and pour out their snow and ice onto a world already saturated with white. Of course, it didn't look white by night, it looked more like a mound of black feathers against the shale of forests. The mountains and sky melded together, too dark to be seen save by night visions outlines seen only by keen eyed wolves. Across this land, nothing seemed to move, and with the snow on sky and land, sound was terribly muffled. There was a form moving against the deeper blackness, a towering, silent form, who's brush of paws against stone made an echo in the great pack cave, yet it was so quiet that it was covered over by the breathing of all the other wolves, blissfully unaware and wrapped in sleep. It was to one of these forms in particularly that the great shadow moved. A small, fluffy creature, surrounded by a trio of little dreaming darlings. Pitch black night, nigh on total silence, a sleeping fae lying prone, a monstrous lupine shade. In another tale, in another version, this wouldn't have ended well. But this wanderer in the night, was Gargoyle, and the one he moved towards was Ocena, his darling mate. Rather than danger, it was a lover who draped his nose down and brushed it tenderly over the fae's ear. She was so lovely like this, it was almost against his heart to wake her. Another night, he would've been more than happy to lay down and curl his giant frame round her like a safety blanket. But this night he had plans. So, after a loving lick on the top of her ebonine skull, he murmured in as soft a voice as he could manage, "Ocena..." Another lick. "Ocena, wake up, darling." His rumble came out in a tone far more soft and gentle than any other pack mate had a right to here. "I have something I want to show you." In the dark, his face was nearly impossible to see, but they'd been mated long enough, if anyone could detect the hint of excitement and wonder in his usually monotone voice, it'd be her. |
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