01-13-2018, 03:03 PM
Merida
from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken
Merida is used to the silence of these woods. Her soft paws knew the shadowed earth well, and had created a small burrow beneath a slate of smooth stone as her hearth in the depths of winter’s chill. The thick canopy keeping most light from reaching the very deepest depths, but a few tendrils of golden sun peeks through, filtering and sparkling with the dust of the wood, warming whatever it could beneath the tall trees’ might. The fox is cozied in her hole, her nose covered by the curl of her white-tipped tail, black-rimmed eyes closed in a winter’s slumber. Pickings had been slim for her as of late, and with no larger predators about for her to steal scraps of meat from, the little fox had fed on tiny morsels of insects and berries, and at sometimes shifting back to her equine self to poke through the snow and brittle fallen branches for nibbles of grass beneath. The winter is difficult in the great forest, but Merida found that despite her hunger, she would rather be here than anywhere else.The sound of a voice - unknown and surprising - is greeted by the snap of Merida’s once-closed eyes, revealing the burning embers of her irises, which were more red than the orange of her gleaming fur. She lifts her head, peering out from her shelter with a tiny yawn, revealing sharp teeth and a curled tongue. She slinks her way out, stretching as she did so, her spine curling until she shakes herself awake. The chill of winter hits her hard as she emerges from the warmth of her dry den, but the thickness of her orange and white fur quickly shields her, and beneath the darkness of the canopy, she trots easily forward towards the sound of the unfamiliar voice.
Merida is now close enough to hear and see the woman, atop a piece of smooth outcropping from the forest to raise her above - though it still would have been easy to see her from the ground, for the woman is blindly white and iridescent, her many coat colors causing the fox to halt in her purposeful steps to merely watch her from the silent depths for a moment, standing quietly on slender brown paws.
The fox gives way to the horse, and in the canine’s place is now Merida’s true from - a stocky mare with thick shoulders and neck, dark as the world beneath the forest, speckled with red embers that adorn her shoulders and haunches. Equally fiery mane and tail complement the darkness of her coat, her mane long and flowing to nearly to the bottom of her shoulder. It is in this state that she approaches the winged opal. The mare stops beneath her, staring up at her with an amused and curious look (one that appears almost fox-like, if one were to know she could become one) and listens intently.
The ebony mare, freckled with marks of the deepest ember, has never cared for politics or that of a kingdom. She remembers being in Loess, and how she was meant to bow before a Queen and become subservient and diplomatic...it did not suit her. The life of a shifter, of a fox, a free life with no tethers to anything besides herself, that is what Merida seeks and that is what she has found in the solace of the forest of Sylva. She had perhaps thought to join the raven in his militant ranks as a spy or a trickster, something that she is rather good at naturally, but it seems that the raven shifter and his family have taken to the skies, never to be seen again.
Merida snorts softly. They always leave, she murmurs to herself.
This one, however, seems different - this woman did not come seeking a title to be called, nor a crown to wear abreast her pretty head. She came to Sylva for the same reason Merida remains - a place to call home, to live happily and to remain safe. It cannot be helped that she has fallen as the caretaker, and she is obviously doing her best to do just that.
“Woman,” she calls to her lightly, after she has finished her eloquent speech. The word she spoke is not one of malice or sarcasm, but actually of curiosity and a bit of respect. “For a long time I have lived here beneath the shadows and damp earth - longer than you, perhaps - and I do not plan on leaving it any time soon. I am tired of so many strangers coming in and out, promising things and then fading into the darkness - ” she pauses, her eyes flashing as she thinks of Crevan, and now the raven who has promised her such things, only to leave her alone once again.
“- I will happily build Sylva with you, fair lady. I can keep you safe. My name is Merida.”