Post by Riona Shea on Apr 12, 2009 22:29:54 GMT -5
OOC: That's one of my favorites!
And OMG, if Varloc takes her back to Koran, she really will follow him around all the time. He's, like, her first friend.
It had been so long- her lifetime, really- since a wolf had treated her with such undue kindness that the realization that Varloc was truly taking her seriously was enough to make her heart soar. There was no sarcasm to be found in his dark eyes, no fickle hint of irritation- nothing that she was used to. There was a warm sense of admiration toward the old warrior that kept her glued to the spot, eyes rooted to his face and completely rapt with the stories and sage bits of experience that he spoke. For now, her curiosity had been satiated, and it was a feeling that she reveled in, to simply understood. True, her typically silent and withdrawn nature allowed her to be more aware intuitively than others, but this was slowly being cast away (though of course, if anything were to happen, she wouldn't be far from emotional safety). She wasn't entirely sure what exactly she thought of Varloc, though it was nothing bad- it was simply that she couldn't find the words to express her undying gratitude. He had undergone a far worse experience than herself, for Shea had never known love, never felt its warmth, and so the mental disembodiment one might feel from being cast out from a caring family was not one she had been familiarized with. Still, the yearling panged for him, if only for a flickering moment, as she tried to fathom what he must have felt like, at the lowest of lows. At the loss of his other half. Kiel's story hadn't really struck her, it was simply another tool she used to explain things to herself. If Varloc, or any other, were to ever inquire as to her opinion of things, they would likely be either very impressed or very confused. A year of solitude gives one ample time to ponder the wonders of the world.
She listened to his recount of his siblings and their respective whereabouts, leaving her own mind to drift rather cautiously toward her own brothers. Elden's Drappa had been barren- a funny thing for a leader to be- and so one of her own brothers, as the Beta's son, was destined to lead one day, though she doubted that any of them would live long enough for that to happen. They were the same age as herself, and while they still had many years until the Dragga would succumb to death, Shea didn't doubt that the real, full-contact brawls would begin early, each trying to prove himself the true victor. It was with a sudden start that she realized that she had been dabbling in her own thoughts, and as Varloc's voice broke through- speaking of a brother named Adonis- Shea reprimanded herself for not paying closer attention. Still, the retelling caused her to drift back into her own half-hearted thoughts, wondering what would have been different if she had been killed early on, or if she had been stillborn. Nothing, she realized. Her brothers would have had to find another plaything, and Costa and Kiel would have had to share their stories only with each other. But, as she had told Boreas, she was small in life, and so she would have been, and will be, small in death. Her life had no impact on Elden.
It was when Varloc addressed her again, however, that she broke completely from her own mind, her eyes drilling toward his features as she memorized his words, smiling a bit at the end. Hecate. Shea felt entirely inadequate next to a fae that was obviously so momentous, and while part of her wanted to simply meet the femme, the other half was afraid the Varloc's mate would have been very much repulsed. Still, she knew that it was impossible to meet her now, and so she let the thought go, instead taking everything the graying mann had to say straight to heart. Zostar. Wasn't that another god, one like Tor and Fenris? “I'm afraid that if I let my own feelings decide my behavior, that I'll be destroyed entirely. And my brothers- yes, it is true that I never really attempted to get away from them; I desired attention, I craved it, and even if it was negative, I would still accept it. But, you have to understand-I felt, I feel, so pathetic, so useless, and all of these feelings have become foreign to me. I'm so used to forgetting it all that I think attempting to find anger towards them would be impossible. Her eyes hadn't left Varloc's face; she found a sort of strength there, one that she wanted for her own but was content with simply staring at, wishing for. But it was now, as she began speaking of the gods, that there was a sharp hint of cool resentment that gleamed in her odd-colored gaze. “And for all of my pain, the gods have done nothing for me. I prayed, and searched, and begged them for something, some positive aspect of my life to appear, but received nothing. Except, I suppose for running into you. You've shown me more kindness than anyone has before, and I only wish that I could express the gratefulness that I'm feeling.” She ended the sentence with a smile, one that stretched, and lowered her head respectfully to the warrior before allowing herself to lay, tail curled around her haunches, and listen to his tale.
It was one that made her smile, and instantly brought to mind the words he had spoken of his lost love. How truly strong he had to be to be able to live without her so. It was not the words of the story that made her eyes jerk up to his however- it was the sentence afterwards, and it shocked her, almost to the point of fear. She swallowed, feeling bile rise in her abdomen. A pack? A home? The idea itself was alien to her. “But what pack would want me?” She said, voice sad and soft. “I have no skills; I'm nothing more than a runt. I'd just be one more mouth to feed, and I doubt you want a sickla femme like myself trailing after you.” There was no exaggeration behind her voice; Shea really did think herself to be lowly and useless. And it was true- if Varloc was truly offering to take her back to his pack with him, then he was also inadvertently committing to having a permanent tagalong.
And OMG, if Varloc takes her back to Koran, she really will follow him around all the time. He's, like, her first friend.
It had been so long- her lifetime, really- since a wolf had treated her with such undue kindness that the realization that Varloc was truly taking her seriously was enough to make her heart soar. There was no sarcasm to be found in his dark eyes, no fickle hint of irritation- nothing that she was used to. There was a warm sense of admiration toward the old warrior that kept her glued to the spot, eyes rooted to his face and completely rapt with the stories and sage bits of experience that he spoke. For now, her curiosity had been satiated, and it was a feeling that she reveled in, to simply understood. True, her typically silent and withdrawn nature allowed her to be more aware intuitively than others, but this was slowly being cast away (though of course, if anything were to happen, she wouldn't be far from emotional safety). She wasn't entirely sure what exactly she thought of Varloc, though it was nothing bad- it was simply that she couldn't find the words to express her undying gratitude. He had undergone a far worse experience than herself, for Shea had never known love, never felt its warmth, and so the mental disembodiment one might feel from being cast out from a caring family was not one she had been familiarized with. Still, the yearling panged for him, if only for a flickering moment, as she tried to fathom what he must have felt like, at the lowest of lows. At the loss of his other half. Kiel's story hadn't really struck her, it was simply another tool she used to explain things to herself. If Varloc, or any other, were to ever inquire as to her opinion of things, they would likely be either very impressed or very confused. A year of solitude gives one ample time to ponder the wonders of the world.
She listened to his recount of his siblings and their respective whereabouts, leaving her own mind to drift rather cautiously toward her own brothers. Elden's Drappa had been barren- a funny thing for a leader to be- and so one of her own brothers, as the Beta's son, was destined to lead one day, though she doubted that any of them would live long enough for that to happen. They were the same age as herself, and while they still had many years until the Dragga would succumb to death, Shea didn't doubt that the real, full-contact brawls would begin early, each trying to prove himself the true victor. It was with a sudden start that she realized that she had been dabbling in her own thoughts, and as Varloc's voice broke through- speaking of a brother named Adonis- Shea reprimanded herself for not paying closer attention. Still, the retelling caused her to drift back into her own half-hearted thoughts, wondering what would have been different if she had been killed early on, or if she had been stillborn. Nothing, she realized. Her brothers would have had to find another plaything, and Costa and Kiel would have had to share their stories only with each other. But, as she had told Boreas, she was small in life, and so she would have been, and will be, small in death. Her life had no impact on Elden.
It was when Varloc addressed her again, however, that she broke completely from her own mind, her eyes drilling toward his features as she memorized his words, smiling a bit at the end. Hecate. Shea felt entirely inadequate next to a fae that was obviously so momentous, and while part of her wanted to simply meet the femme, the other half was afraid the Varloc's mate would have been very much repulsed. Still, she knew that it was impossible to meet her now, and so she let the thought go, instead taking everything the graying mann had to say straight to heart. Zostar. Wasn't that another god, one like Tor and Fenris? “I'm afraid that if I let my own feelings decide my behavior, that I'll be destroyed entirely. And my brothers- yes, it is true that I never really attempted to get away from them; I desired attention, I craved it, and even if it was negative, I would still accept it. But, you have to understand-I felt, I feel, so pathetic, so useless, and all of these feelings have become foreign to me. I'm so used to forgetting it all that I think attempting to find anger towards them would be impossible. Her eyes hadn't left Varloc's face; she found a sort of strength there, one that she wanted for her own but was content with simply staring at, wishing for. But it was now, as she began speaking of the gods, that there was a sharp hint of cool resentment that gleamed in her odd-colored gaze. “And for all of my pain, the gods have done nothing for me. I prayed, and searched, and begged them for something, some positive aspect of my life to appear, but received nothing. Except, I suppose for running into you. You've shown me more kindness than anyone has before, and I only wish that I could express the gratefulness that I'm feeling.” She ended the sentence with a smile, one that stretched, and lowered her head respectfully to the warrior before allowing herself to lay, tail curled around her haunches, and listen to his tale.
It was one that made her smile, and instantly brought to mind the words he had spoken of his lost love. How truly strong he had to be to be able to live without her so. It was not the words of the story that made her eyes jerk up to his however- it was the sentence afterwards, and it shocked her, almost to the point of fear. She swallowed, feeling bile rise in her abdomen. A pack? A home? The idea itself was alien to her. “But what pack would want me?” She said, voice sad and soft. “I have no skills; I'm nothing more than a runt. I'd just be one more mouth to feed, and I doubt you want a sickla femme like myself trailing after you.” There was no exaggeration behind her voice; Shea really did think herself to be lowly and useless. And it was true- if Varloc was truly offering to take her back to his pack with him, then he was also inadvertently committing to having a permanent tagalong.