IP: 12.231.36.2
Posted on May 22, 2013 at 07:24:53 AM by Kane
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She whimpers piteously as she limps away from the battle field, though only after spitting a few snarls toward the male's lingering form. She knows that the battle is over but she fights him still with her spirit. Ever the savage beast, just like the rest of her family. I admire their spirit every time I look at Heyel and how far he's come, how much fame he's managed to gain. I see it every time I look at the mother of my child and keeper of my heart, how strong she is and clever. And I see it in the one I'm soul bound to, the sister of my mate. She is so passionate about the things she loves, like her home. I wish she could have won but things could still turn out in her favor. I just want to show her that she has my support and as ever, my soul. As she limps toward me, I flinch inwardly, not liking the pain I see etched all over her lovely features. Finally she makes it to me and speaks in her family's tongue, the tongue of Angels, as they call it, though a tongue I made sure to have Devil teach me so long ago. "Te nocere. Si modo sciret aliquid de sanitatum ..." (You are hurt. If only I knew something about healing...) I scold myself as I look over her marks, soft whimpers slipping past my midnight jaws as I watch the blood stain her white coat, so lovely and silky. I still remember the feel of it from the last time we spoke, the last time we touched, when I got her out of Iromar. She doesn't even seem to realize that she was speaking Latin but suddenly her eyes grow glazed with pain and something more, something internal. When she looks at me, her eyes are wet with tears and she suddenly buckles right before my eyes. Without thinking, I am at her side, shoulder leaning gently into her, holding her up, letting her fall on me if she needs to. I listen to her rambling as she speaks of letting someone down. I can only guess she's talking about Weyling. My brow furrows but I know better than to speak ill of someone she apparently thought most highly of. Weylin and I had his differences but if he was nice to Sinopa, none of that matters. I nuzzle at her cheek soothingly. "No, you didn't let him down. You fought for what you believed in and that's a victory in itself. He would be proud of you." My words are stronger than I feel right now, watching her cry. It's killing me inside, making my heart and soul ache. I don't think she's prone to such episodes. She seemed so strong willed and impassive when I first met her in Diveen. Not the kind to let someone in so easily, to let someone see her cry. It must be the connection. She buries her face in her paws and I reach out, nudging softly at them with my nose, trying to uncover her face. "Don't do that. I want to see you. Nothing is wrong; everything can be set right. You just have to believe in that." She continues to cry and I react without thinking once more, letting my soul guide me as I start cleaning her wounds meticulously with my tongue, caressing her fur, soothing her soul with my touch as I doctor her up the only way I know how. I know nothing of herbs or medicine but I do know that wounds need to kept clean and I know that a tongue is a good tool for this, not the best, but still good. And I'd do anything to comfort her right now, anything to make her smile again. Kane_male_bound to Sinopa_mate to Isola_father to Achilles_son of Kiska&Devil May Cry_High King of Diveen_five years old |
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