05-23-2018, 03:52 PM
Merida
from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken
There is a shudder that ripples along her spine as he moves away from the fox, and the once loose smile on her lips fade into nothingness, a furrow of her brow creasing her brilliant and fiery gaze. Merida’s head lifts, lips pressing together thoughtfully as he paces before her. Crevan’s ears flatten against his head, and there is an audible huff that leaves her slender muzzle. Suddenly everything is different and it does not sit well in her, so she rises from her position to stand. “Crevan.” She says his name almost forcefully; she knows his thoughts are barricades in his mind, stirring and whirling and causing him to rile agitatedly before her. You stubborn nymph.
She does not react save for the soft movement of her brows rising upwards. She takes the hit of his only because it is true. Only because it’s him. Her tail fluffs out behind her, swishing back and forth in a quick fashion, bristling at the callousness in his voice. Her confession, her unclear and stubborn way of telling him (that Crevan being Crevan is what caused her sudden influx of emotion, that he being himself is what brought on the love that she cannot bring herself to say aloud) has not struck a nerve, but has severed an artery.
The fox takes a leap forward to close the gap between them, but he is already there, looking down at her with the familiar fire in his eyes. She meets his gaze fearlessly, staring up into his face with the same pride and stubbornness he had just spoke of. There is no hesitancy in her face as a snarl appears in reaction to his thoughts of her other skin, and quickly her jaws snap together. The reaction is one of anger, though its purpose not to meet his flesh (but maybe it did), but one that she could not control.
His words did what he had meant them to do, however, and the small vulpine brushes past the bulk of his form, teeth bared and ears flattened. The scruff of her neck and shoulders are ridged upwards in agitation; white, hot emotion burns through her and she hates him for it. She halts, not facing him but refusing to leave. To where would she go? To whom? Ah, and there it is again:
Only him.
Merida’s shoulders roll as she smooths her fur, the moment of frustration now gone as the realization of his words - despite their harshness - truly sinks in. Her head turns over her shoulder, fire-lit eyes staring at him boldly. “Perhaps it is you I’d no longer love once I saw your other skin.” The fox snorts softly, turning her entire body to face him. The embarrassment and shyness from their intimate moment previously is gone now, replaced only with the need to prove him wrong. He would still love her in any form - she knows it. Yet, there is the prickling sensation of hesitation in the back of her mind,
(what if you’re the one that’s wrong, Merida?)
(you ruin every relationship you’ve ever touched, like you’re doing now; this is impossible).
But there is that stubborn pride again, and with a scrunching of her black nose she has made her decision. Fur and claws and teeth fall away, her height lengthens and the vibrant orange, brown and white of her fox disappear. Deep obsidian, dark as night and smooth as stone, covers her now. Embers of bright red freckle her shoulders and haunches, their color matched with the tangled mass of scarlet tendrils that are her mane and tail. Eyes - bold and as red as ever against a black background - stare at the wolf, her charcoaled lips pressed into a thin, unamused line.
“Do I meet your expectations? Or is only the fox allowed your affection?” Her voice is unwavering even though she is riddled with uncertainty; she is thankful, for a brief moment, that her equine form does not allow her to whine - she is sure the sound would’ve slipped sneakily through her teeth.
@[Crevan] ME NEITHER
sorry not sorry for replying so quickly
I COULDN'T HELP IT