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Topic: War in our midst
Subject: Enterance
One might believe she felt the hostility of her human surroundings. But she was tough - tough in spirit, too, as well as in body. Only the memory of the sea frightened her, with that vague terror that is left by a bad dream. Her home was far away; and she did not want now to go to the village. Dark indigo eyes shone with interest and uncertainty, her pale, delicately formed hands pressed upon the sordid, grime-covered door, opening it.
She fell into fear. She fell into fear silently, obstinately - perhaps helplessly. It came slowly, but when it came it worked like a powerful spell; it was fear as the Ancients understood it: an irresistible and fateful impulse - a possession! Her narrow face, far from human, alien to the searching eyes of her compatriots, was etched with grief and sorrow that refused to fade even as she ordered a small goblet of red wine, to calm her nerves, though she was not of an alcoholic persuasion. Reaching into the deep pockets of her traveling cloak she placed upon the counter three coins of a strange and beautiful make, coins that were unheard of in the ways of Men.
Her soft gaze fixed upon the Mortal that watched her, and she startled like a woodland creature, shyly averting her gaze. In a single liquid motion, she had approached him, his face already wreathed in smoke from his incessant pipe-smoking. Terror filled her soul, though she could not understand it. She lowered the hood that so obscured her features, revealing her heritage at last. Her deep-set eyes studied him silently. “Might I join you", she murmured, the inquiry soft and uncertain and filled with a strangely penetrating power, as though the Common Tongue did not so readily escape those rosy lips. She smiled a smile of scarlet bewitchment.
“My kind is not welcome here", she whispered, her tone of liquid silver.
“It is not safe for me to be seen alone".
Posted on 2007-08-12 at 22:42:19.
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Topic: War in our midst
Subject: The Lady in Grey
The moon peered through a mane of tawny clouds, as if it were a lion's eye, and innumerable stars spangled the hollow vault, like gold dust powdered on a purple dome. The wild, turbid feelings of the previous night had by this time completely passed away, and it was almost with a sense of shame that she looked back upon mad wanderings from street to street, her fierce emotional agony. The very sincerity of her sufferings made them seem unreal to her now. She wondered how she could have been so foolish as to rant and rave about the inevitable.
From a grey country, the shadows dwelled in darkness, and all ways were drenched from the lack of light. A whisper sounded, hardly auditable. Whispers of a source unknown. Whispers of a nameless fear. An ivory mare wandered beneath the spangled moonlight, her hooves soundless, marking not the path. Silken of mane and sound of hoof, she had borne her rider well, from peril that lurked.
Even the tawny-winged minstrels had ceased their merry madrigals. The elven rider's features were obscured from sight, and yet her attire was an entrancing, dazzling cloak of azure over silver. A beauty lingered in her willow-like form, and there was a feline grace about her movements, as ancient as the beginning of time, as youthful as the spring. Her form was enough for Mortals.
Slowly, tentatively, she lowered her hood slightly, her visage revealed with the brightness of the dawn. Her visage was celestially fair, her complexion flawless and pallid, which contrasted with her cerulean eyes, each the hue of a summer sky, illuminated with life and soft as dove-down. They were haunted and haunting, nearly feral in their wild colour. She had been here before.
Dark tresses cascaded over her slender shoulders alike to a merry brook, woven with moonbeams and braided in intricate patterns that cascaded over her amber mail, contrasting with her warrior-attire. This covered the woven jerkin, which complemented her silken trousers, cut for agility and of wood-land hue. A river of azure was draped over one deceptively slender shoulder, closed with the leaf brooch of the Wood.
This suggested something more to this lovely, yet lethal being, a sleek longbow at hand and a narrow blade sheathed at her hip. Royalty, perhaps it was that had drawn eyes to her as she entered the city, contemplating the silence.
Feral eyes fixed upon the wayward Mortal who approached the other female, lush rosy lips curling into a hint of a smile.
Not all was lost.
Posted on 2007-08-12 at 05:13:57.
Edited on 2007-08-12 at 05:16:52 by Captain_Shakesphere
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