October 17, 2019, 10:25 AM
He did not deny it—for that, the sylph was grateful, and she felt the tension seep from her shoulders. She had once thought to settle upon the mountain until the end of days, embraced in the warmth of Stigmata’s touch and the camaraderie of pack mates. Everything had changed—and as Ketzia was used to, her life would pivot with these changes.
She considered his words on seeking further north—in truth, the pale widow held no land in true favor, but with their numbers dwindling, it was harder to send others on a scouting expedition for further information. She was ready to agree—to discuss sending one of the newer recruits and perhaps Nyx a day ahead of the rest to ensure danger did not await the children, but the dark gargoyle rumbled further thoughts, and this time, the honeyed woman pressed her muzzle to his warmth more firmly—exhaling softly.
“Mahler,” her voice was softer—unyielding in the wisp of smoke that laced her tones, and yet gentle as she attempted to gain the proper words within her mind. “Diaspora thrives because of Stigmata’s pursuits,” she rumbled, her pace slowing as she coaxed him to look at her as her own jade eyes implored him. “And also yours.” She paused, her tongue tracing her lips as she felt the pang of loss once more—the notion that the dark ashen General had fallen, and that they were forced to move forward in life without him. “It can no longer be about him, unless it better serves the pack,” she clarified her thoughts, casting jewelled eyes to the side to gauge his interest.
He spoke of alliances—none existed of which she knew, and she studied him curiously. His proposition for the coming months caused her to pause, her delicate features knitting with surprise before she stopped movement. He wished to breed with a wolf of another pack?
The dryness of her mouth went ignored—for reasons only because she did not understand or grasp the sudden emotion that swept through her at his admission of plan. “If she is to your liking, then of course,” she began slowly, her gaze fierce upon him. “But I think we’ve all seen how well securing wombs for children has gone in the past,” she finally added, wondering if there were none within Diaspora the current General would seek to commit.
Stigmata had worn himself to his grave—what would become of the gargoyle should he present himself to a she-wolf that titled herself a queen?
She considered his words on seeking further north—in truth, the pale widow held no land in true favor, but with their numbers dwindling, it was harder to send others on a scouting expedition for further information. She was ready to agree—to discuss sending one of the newer recruits and perhaps Nyx a day ahead of the rest to ensure danger did not await the children, but the dark gargoyle rumbled further thoughts, and this time, the honeyed woman pressed her muzzle to his warmth more firmly—exhaling softly.
“Mahler,” her voice was softer—unyielding in the wisp of smoke that laced her tones, and yet gentle as she attempted to gain the proper words within her mind. “Diaspora thrives because of Stigmata’s pursuits,” she rumbled, her pace slowing as she coaxed him to look at her as her own jade eyes implored him. “And also yours.” She paused, her tongue tracing her lips as she felt the pang of loss once more—the notion that the dark ashen General had fallen, and that they were forced to move forward in life without him. “It can no longer be about him, unless it better serves the pack,” she clarified her thoughts, casting jewelled eyes to the side to gauge his interest.
He spoke of alliances—none existed of which she knew, and she studied him curiously. His proposition for the coming months caused her to pause, her delicate features knitting with surprise before she stopped movement. He wished to breed with a wolf of another pack?
The dryness of her mouth went ignored—for reasons only because she did not understand or grasp the sudden emotion that swept through her at his admission of plan. “If she is to your liking, then of course,” she began slowly, her gaze fierce upon him. “But I think we’ve all seen how well securing wombs for children has gone in the past,” she finally added, wondering if there were none within Diaspora the current General would seek to commit.
Stigmata had worn himself to his grave—what would become of the gargoyle should he present himself to a she-wolf that titled herself a queen?
...you should see me in a c r o w n
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Messages In This Thread
you did not break me - by Ketzia - October 11, 2019, 10:51 AM
RE: you did not break me - by Mahler - October 11, 2019, 11:04 AM
RE: you did not break me - by Ketzia - October 11, 2019, 11:26 AM
RE: you did not break me - by Mahler - October 11, 2019, 05:35 PM
RE: you did not break me - by Ketzia - October 17, 2019, 10:25 AM
RE: you did not break me - by Mahler - October 18, 2019, 05:19 PM
RE: you did not break me - by Ketzia - October 20, 2019, 02:07 PM
RE: you did not break me - by Mahler - October 26, 2019, 05:37 PM
RE: you did not break me - by Ketzia - November 24, 2019, 03:08 PM
RE: you did not break me - by Mahler - November 30, 2019, 08:20 PM