The Wildwood pagan angel

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Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall a time he had listened to Aisling. Had he ever asked her where she came from or how she was able to talk to Pangur? It had never mattered to him before. Why would it matter where she had come from if she had been here with him <i>now</i>? The past had never been important to the two of them. They had been forever stuck in the present, lost and in love in the present, and nothing else mattered but God. Now Kiche began to wonder, wonder about what their future could have been, wonder if he should have asked her about her past. The unshakable taste of remorse lingered in his mouth, and he thought of all the things he had never asked and never listened for.

However... there had been that one moment, on the day he'd kissed her. He had been singing a song from the black box, and she had told him that her mother had taught her the songs she new. A new wave of grief nearly knocked him from his feet as the melodious echo of her voice tickled his ear again. <i>"When the summer's ceased its gleaning, when the corn is past its prime, when adventure's lost its meaning, I'll be homeward bound in time."</i> He ached from the bruise these words left on his heart. Desperately, he clung to every note and every word, cherishing each one before tucking it away in the recesses of his heart. <i>When the adventure's lost its meaning...</i> Life really <i>had</i> lost it's meaning... Did that mean she would be...

He had forgotten where he was for a heartbeat, although his reverie had not stolen his attention for more than a moment. When he returned to reality, he was once again startled by the strange wolf. His soul cried out in joy and disbelief every time he looked at her. Kiche was <i>drawn</i> to her in the worst way possible, as if she was the only cure to a disease that was claiming his soul. He held his breath and ate up every word as if it were an elixir that would easy the pain. Maybe her voice sounded a little like Aisling's. "<b><i>I</i> want to listen,</b>" he breathed softly, reclining slowly and sliding forward into the snow.

"<b>I guess the best place to start is in the beginning.</b>"
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(This post was last modified: Jan 26, 2012, 09:00 PM by Kiche.)

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you come to me with scars on your wrist you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this Even though he was offering to listen and she was so tempted to take that offer, Anyu felt disconnected from him in a way that she could not explain. In some ways it was almost as if he was in a world completely different from the one she was in. That was the best way that she could put it in her head. Whatever it was, she could feel that there was something different about this encounter; different, that is, from the other encounters she'd had here and in the past. He seemed nice enough, though she didn't even know his name. That was a thought in the back of her head as she considered where to start and what to say. For some reason she didn't care so much about names right now. Perhaps a lot of that had to do with the confusion she was feeling from the entire situation. He seemed so odd to her when it came to his behavior, and even in what he said. One part of her wanted to trust him and tell him everything, but another part wanted to keep her distance and stay away from him. But her heart needed her to talk, and she knew now that she would choose that option despite her misgivings. “The beginning,” she scoffed once she had gathered her mettle enough to start speaking.. “Do I even know what the beginning is anymore?” Slowly she lowered her haunches to the ground. She could feel the cold snow through her fur, but it didn't bother her. “I was happy, in the beginning.” And she had been; she had been young and happy and she still had a sister and friends to care about. “And then my father blamed me, tried to kill me, and killed my sister - that's when everything changed forever.” Her voice was filled with longing and sadness; the pain that had been there for years, getting worse with each bad thing that happened. She looked up at the male, anger mixed in with the sadness and longing in her eyes. “It wasn't my fault, you know,” she said to him, as if he knew what she was talking about. “There was nothing I could do.” She was referring to the death of her brother during the battle that had torn her pack apart. They had been cornered. Before help came he was dead. What could she have done? i just came to say goodbye didn't want you to see me cry, i'm fine

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Like a thaw, like a blossoming flower, the wolf before him began to burst into a radiant life. She yawned and stretched, letting her petals unfold, revealing a melancholy beauty that made his heart ache. He felt as if he had stumbled upon something naked and raw that his eyes could never deserve. With simple words she recreated the past, and the architecture was a glorious temple: unadorned and quiet, crumbling and sad. The brillaint sorrow of her voice was easier to take with eyes closed. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, a gruesome, tragic story unfolded, although the shapes were vague and their actions were muddled, pieces of the story were cut short and juxtaposed with other events. Listening to her recount the past was like walking into the living room late at night, when his masters were caught up in one of those moving pictures on the black box. Montages assaulted his eyes, and he couldn't even begin to make sense of the images. It was like walking into a movie that was already half over. Secretly, he cast Aisling as the main character.

"<b>Nothing you could do about what?</b>" he asked in a whisper, his eyes still closed. He ached for this sad creature who was so like Aisling. A second Angel. Would she mind if he called her that? Maybe, just maybe, he could slip it into the conversation casually. She would never need to know that it had been his secret, private name for Aisling. But he waited hungrily for the next bit of her story, the next chapter in Aisli—the strangers saga.
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you come to me with scars on your wrist you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this Could she tell him? Could she admit to a stranger, someone she had never met before, what her father blamed her for doing? She knew it wasn't her fault, so why did she feel so guilty about it all the time? Was it that she had been secretly blaming herself for all these years? For a moment she wasn't really there, in the forest with the stranger. She was in the past, reliving that day of the battle. For a moment she could feel the blood on her fur from her wounds and she could hear the mournful howling of her mother when they discovered that her brother was dead. She could hear her father's voice as he turned on her, accusing her for letting him die. She should have been watching him and looking out for him. It didn't matter that she had been fighting two larger opponents at the same time or that trying to get to her brother would have meant certain death for her as well. It was her fault - all her fault. For a moment she could feel her father's teeth sink into the scruff of her neck, only to be torn away as her nearly identical sister threw herself at their father. She could even see the bright red blood of her sister as their father turned and attacked her, killing her within seconds. Anyu began to shake, reliving that scene and feeling the emotions she had felt all those years ago. “It wasn't my fault brother died,” she whispered, eyes closed. “There wasn't anything I could do to stop it. I tried, but there was nothing I could do. But father still blamed me for it.” She turned her head away, believing that, for one reason or another, it really was her fault. Why else would father have blamed her? Even though she was trying to convince herself that it wasn't her fault, she still believed that it was. Everything was her fault; she was a failure, after all. i just came to say goodbye didn't want you to see me cry, i'm fine

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Aching with sensitivity and longing to comfort her, and noticing that she seemed to be lost somewhere outside of reality, Kiche crawled through the snow, towards her, wishing there was something he could do or say. She didn't have to be Aisling in this moment. She could have been anyone, or anything, and he just wanted to steal all her pain away, drink it himself if that would truly help things. When the damsel began to tremble with overwhelming fear, Kiche could withhold himself no longer. Convincing himself that it was okay to reach out to this heathen because it was Aisling —and therefor <i>not</i> a heathen— he quickly squirmed forward to bridge the gap between them. Desperate maybe for something more, something resembling what he had had with AIsling, he made to her nose with his own excessively larger one —that beautiful kiss of the humans he tried so unsuccessfully to recreate. But at the last moment, she turned to look the other way, and he only grazed the side of her nose. And it felt anticlimactic, wrong. More so than it had when he had kissed Aisling, and not just because the kiss was a partial miss. Hoping to make up for his own romantic shortcomings, he attempted a gesture that he had perhaps seen Jayse and Borden practice. It was a heathen courtesy. A tentative, worried tongue peeked out from between his lips and quickly brushed over her pearl muzzle.

But it still felt wrong, and now he was overcome with the awkwardness of what he had just done. Immediately, he pushed himself away from her, and attempted to recover with a very gruff, "<b>It wasn't your fault A—</b>" Suddenly only the verge of saying "Aisling," he reeled himself back in. "<b>You can't blame yourself. And your father... while he's wrong, it must have been the only way he knew how to cope.... which is...</b>" He groped for words, thumbing through his mental thesaurus, but coming up with nothing more elegant than, "<b>... sad. But how can he truly believe it was your fault? You... you can't dwell on that. Things you can't change.</b>"
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you come to me with scars on your wrist you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this Even though she saw him moving closer again she didn’t flinch away or become defensive. Though there was still a lot of confusion filling her mind, she was sad and he had been kind enough to her so far - showing no signs of the cruelty that some wolves had treated her with, as well as not attacking her which was an added bonus in her weakened state. She even turned her head as he came closer. She didn’t see just how close he was moving until she felt the brush of his nose against hers. Her entire body froze, caught in a sudden state of absolute tension. Something inside of her was struggling to break free, just from that one touch. She fought it, trying to hold it back so that she wouldn’t chase the male away. But at the same time she wasn’t sure that she wanted him to stay now. The touch had been less serious. It had been such a light grazing of two noses – hardly anything to get worked up about. But the moment his tongue touched her muzzle that small part of her that simply didn’t want to be touched after all that had happened to her broke loose. She was on her feet in seconds, even as the male pushed away from her, giving her space again. Her teeth were bared in warning and her ears were pulled straight forward. This time she was not identifying a possible threat. Instead, she was showing that she was the top wolf in this situation. Her tail even went up some, though not so high as to assert complete dominance. She was about to yell at him to never touch her again, but he was already speaking. She let out a low growl but listened to what he had to say, calming down a little. Slowly, her muscles relaxed one by one until she finally sat back down on the ground and was listening to him carefully. She was confused. This had to be the strangest wolf that she had met in her almost five years of life. Trying to push that thought out of her mind, she responded with the only thing she could really say on the topic. Sadness filled her voice more than it had even the last few times she had spoken as she told him, “He tried to kill me for it. My sister died protecting me from him.” i just came to say goodbye didn't want you to see me cry, i'm fine

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>should we finish this up soon? we can have another thread soon. :3
I'm so out of it today, so this is really bad.</span></li></ul>
Her threatening stance and warning teeth were like a slap in the face. It was as if a wall been suddenly constructed out of a moment's notice, rising into the air between them. And with the wall standing in the way, he lost sight of her —of Aisling. He could not see her in the creases of the snarl or the dominance of her imposing posture. His beautiful compassion was shattered by the ugly look that would <i>never</i> have contorted Aisling's beautiful face. This was not Aisling. All of a sudden, he was staring at an absolute and complete stranger, a creature so foreign and irrevocably heathen. This was no angel. Out of confusion and shame, he cringed and shrank back, unsure of what he was doing here, listening to this savage.

Even if eventually she began to reclaim her composure, nothing could sooth the unfamiliar roughness of her barbaric features. Even now her face was still twisted in a snarl, although it had long been smoothed over as she spoke. Kiche was too distracted to listen. The conversation replayed in his head, and his heart pounded fearfully as he stared at the impostor with new eyes. Her past was caked with blood and grime. It was a heathen story. It... it could never have been <i>Ailsing's</i> story. Ashamed, with eyes wide open, he fought to respond to the creature without raising any red flags. He wanted to get away without provoking her. Lest she kill him. "<b>... I... I don't know what to tell you,</b>" he stammered lamely, as his feet began to itch. <i>Dirty. I'm so dirty.... I need to get away. I want to get away from here. This isn't Aisling. What was I thinking. Oh God. Aisling where are you!</i>"
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OOC// Yeah, I think it's about time to end it. I'm going to have her leave in this post. You don't have to reply unless you want to. you come to me with scars on your wrist you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this The caprice in the male startled her; it showed in her eyes and features as she drew back as well, her ears pulled back. Now she was both confused and scared. Why had she told a complete stranger the stories from her childhood? Why had she trusted someone? It was clear that he was just going to hurt her, the same as many others had before him. She was a fool for trusting this stranger in the woods; a stranger whose name she didn't even know. When he stammered his response she knew it was over. She knew that there was nothing for her here and that she was a blind fool, putting her trust in anyone who came along. Slowly, she stood up, her posture poor from the sadness and the hurt that filled her mind. She looked at him once more; not in the eyes, but just a passing glance at his face. In her eyes was a new sadness and a new regret; she was sorry for trusting him. This was all her fault; she had trusted him and then upset him somehow and now he would hate her, just as others did. She did everything wrong. No, not even that. She was wrong. It was wrong for her to exist. Before she looked away from him she whispered softly, one last time. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly, her voice filled with regret and sorrow. She wasn't entirely sure what she was apologizing for. Perhaps for putting him through all that; for hurting him. Perhaps she was apologizing for trusting him in the first place. Whatever the reason behind the apology, she turned away from him and broke out into a sprint, heading in the opposite direction and not looking back. She was gone. i just came to say goodbye didn't want you to see me cry, i'm fine