i need that fire; wolfbane

[Wolfbane]

Wolfbane could understand the concept of not feeling tethered to any one thing, shape, or feeling. He may not have been born with the inherent gifts available to him now, but shape-shifting (skin-walking, his sire had called it) was always in his blood. Wanderlust too. When he’s not bound to earthly things or Beqanna politics, the renowned champion fondly took to the skies or slipped into the water for a quick escape. He had been born with invisibility, but being able to truly integrate into one’s surroundings - to become part of the scenery instead of just trying to blend with it - was what led him to completely forget about the normalcy of being a horse for the better part of six months.

He would’ve explained this to anyone who was willing to listen; Vulgaris and Leliana had been receptive to the idea. Lepis… not so much. Not anymore, really. Lilliana never questioned him, though maybe she should start.

It wasn’t like Wolfbane just decided to ‘forget’ about his less-animalistic counterparts, it was more of a gradual cessation of thought altogether. The less he thought and the more he felt like whatever skin he was wearing, the more realistic a picture he painted. These gifts… this stolen magic and the curse that came with it - they were his life now, first and foremost.

Funny, then, that the girl he ends up saving could’ve just as easily been his next meal.

The golden eagle skin he’s become accustomed to wearing around Taiga is the first thing to rise above the gently swaying treetops when Alaska flitters by. A massive raptor, rising up from a high-built nest and hovering momentarily over the snow-frosted evergreen canopy, stretching its wings and narrowing its focus on the tasty morsel escaping. He gave chase, reveling in the expertise of being a fully-functional pilot, of having both the wingspan and the body type for great bursts of speed. The golden-brown eagle streamlined and began to close the gap, hesitating before taking that final, deadly dive because something about the little bird does not seem exactly … correct.

The coloring? Maybe. He noticed the way she began to tire only seconds before her fall and, pulling up short with a few hefty gusts from his wings, Bane looked down to where she tumbled haphazardly into the shadowy forest below. Not meat, his bird-brain understood as he plummeted after her, screeching a distress signal from pure exasperation. Faster, he thought, he must go faster so he pumps his shoulders until the burning ache of invisible fire screamed in his joints.

In the final moments he didn’t look at where Alaska was predestined to fall; Wolfbane only pulled a half-assed shift from the assortment of animals that first jumped to mind and then he changed course quickly, turning belly-up and opening two wide, golden-haired forelimbs like a ready hug to embrace the filly when she landed squarely upon his chest with a heavy thump. “Ooph!” The half-shifted creature grunted, wrapping sturdy paws over her shoulders and little ribs while he turned himself right-side up and banked to a hard stop.

Still flapping, the gust of wind from his now impressively long wingspan disturbed the resting ferns dotting the dank forest floor as he gingerly touched down, filly-in-grasp. His hind legs were cloven-hooved and his tail a long cord with a tuft, the top half of Bane gone all Lion (complete with a robustly yellow mane) and a strange set of eagle’s wings jutting out from between his shoulders. He’d gone purely chimerac, cradling the small girl as if she were made from glass, but he looked down at her with knowing eyes and a warm, toothy expression.

“Hello there youngling,” He cooed as gently as he could manage through rows of pointed teeth, “you gave me a good scare. Are you alright?”

@[alaska] yes henlo you get the novel; let me know if I need to change anything!