02-20-2019, 10:30 AM
“Diplomats!? Och no no nooo …” The grandfather coyote backpedals, shaking his wiry brown head from side to side. “Water though; a bit of wet on my tongue eh … that’ll do the trick.” He cackles softly, a sort of wheezy inhalation like heh, heh, heh. “If you know where it is then that’s all the help we need, yea? You can show me just as good as any diplomat could.” The coyote shrugs, lifting a hind paw to bat and scratch behind his comically large ears.
It was decided. Wyrm didn’t need anyone else muddying up this reunion or coming in to poke their nosey noses around. Pteron was a good boy, a very good boy and so far nearly clean of the bad blood that seemed to leak into the veins of Wyrm’s other descendants. Once upon a time Longclaw had been like that. And Wolfbane? Well, from what the old shapeshifter had witnessed, it seemed like almost too much of the ancestors got into that one.
“If it doesn’t bother you son, I’ll just grab some tail and let you lead. Been a hard journey without my peepers and I’d like to get there quick so as not to slow you down. If you catch my drift.” He barks softly, somewhere between a laugh and grunt. In the gleaming light of day, his manifold rows of yellowed teeth glint like gemstones. The scruffy predator pops up from his relaxed sit and trots carefully ‘round Pteron’s backside, satellite ears twisting and his nose shivering to help him navigate.
“I ain’t a biter but don’t go getting happy feet or anything, ‘kay?” Wyrm calls out, favoring the yearling and fully expecting him not to crush a paw underneath his heel. Just in case, though, Wyrm’s ready power flicks on and his forelegs fade like ink in water. He sinks a bit into the dry terrain but otherwise seems naturally whole. “Tell me a bit about yourself while we walk kiddo. You seem interesting enough. Where’s your Ma and Pa? Why’d you choose this big wide space to call home, hmm?”
The next minute he grabs hold of Pteron’s tail, (the parts he can reach) and there he remains, acting fully dependent on the strange but familiar horse.
@[Pteron]
It was decided. Wyrm didn’t need anyone else muddying up this reunion or coming in to poke their nosey noses around. Pteron was a good boy, a very good boy and so far nearly clean of the bad blood that seemed to leak into the veins of Wyrm’s other descendants. Once upon a time Longclaw had been like that. And Wolfbane? Well, from what the old shapeshifter had witnessed, it seemed like almost too much of the ancestors got into that one.
“If it doesn’t bother you son, I’ll just grab some tail and let you lead. Been a hard journey without my peepers and I’d like to get there quick so as not to slow you down. If you catch my drift.” He barks softly, somewhere between a laugh and grunt. In the gleaming light of day, his manifold rows of yellowed teeth glint like gemstones. The scruffy predator pops up from his relaxed sit and trots carefully ‘round Pteron’s backside, satellite ears twisting and his nose shivering to help him navigate.
“I ain’t a biter but don’t go getting happy feet or anything, ‘kay?” Wyrm calls out, favoring the yearling and fully expecting him not to crush a paw underneath his heel. Just in case, though, Wyrm’s ready power flicks on and his forelegs fade like ink in water. He sinks a bit into the dry terrain but otherwise seems naturally whole. “Tell me a bit about yourself while we walk kiddo. You seem interesting enough. Where’s your Ma and Pa? Why’d you choose this big wide space to call home, hmm?”
The next minute he grabs hold of Pteron’s tail, (the parts he can reach) and there he remains, acting fully dependent on the strange but familiar horse.
@[Pteron]