let my shadows prove the sunshine
The large cat shifts effortlessly on the smooth and sun-warmed rocks, her blue-grey eyes settling on him with a quiet curiosity that leaves Svedka almost speechless. She seems to be so at ease with this form, almost as if it isn’t even second-natured. He swallows hard as his cerulean eyes flicker to the large paws, where he knew claws were sheathed behind the golden fur. He does not remember much about his time as a feral beast in Hyaline’s mountainous crags; he only remembers awakening in blood and sweat, caused by the lion within him.
But she is not him, he reminds himself, and his wary gaze softens as he finds her soothing irises again, a gentle huff leaving his pearlescent lips.
Yes. But that hasn’t always been the case.
Svedka’s head tilts inquisitively, salt-dried tendrils of sky blue and flaxen twisting about his two-toned face in the springtime breeze. His lips press together thoughtfully, a single flick of his tail against his ivory ankles the only sign of discouragement. He tips his chin towards her as he realizes yet again, she has left him almost speechless.
Almost.
With a roll of his shoulders he regains his composure, at least what little he had control of, and gives her a lazy, crooked smile. “I’m not sure if shifting would be the right term,” he confesses rather honestly, still attempting to remain lax despite the topic, feeling an anxious edge that he is drawing himself precariously nearer to crossing.
His gaze rolls down the tawny of her fur and the muscle that is so prominent beneath it; the black lines around her predatorial face and the white of her whiskered muzzle. He snorts sharply as something wild stirs in his chest, passing it off as his normal attraction for anyone of beauty. But, deep down, he knows it is something more; something feral, something uncontrollable - and this woman’s current form calls to it without her even knowing.
“Mine isn’t...” he trails off, realizing his admittance of being a shifter is now being verbally said, and struggling to find the words to describe his predicament without terrifying her, or losing control all together. Despite the danger he is, he knows that her leaving could cause his lion to appear. “He isn’t as well-mannered as I am.” He. They are separate, two entities constantly at war with each other, battling for consciousness.
The gentle smirk that is normally so charming on his mouth fades into a near frown, his brow creasing as he gazes up at the cougar, wondering if she had an inkling of what he was suggesting or if it will be lost on the fact that most shifters do not share his struggle.
svedka
@[Vastra]