Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Sometimes, you had to be driven to the edge at knifepoint in order to realize your own strength. You have to be left holding onto the root jutting out from the cliff, one hand on the only thing keeping you from plummeting miles to your death so you can break the limitations of your body and mind. No one person or thing pushes you there; usually it's the catalyst of events that come before the reckoning, and then at all once you’re stranded in the middle of an ocean, peering down into the bottomless depths with no water, food, or even a boat to help you navigate. Then what do you do?
You swim, dammit.
You lunge back at the knife, reach up with your other hand and claw your way back to the top of the cliff. You don’t give up or give in to your fears, you devour them whole. A wolf never flees at the bleating protests of a sheep, and Crevan had never been pushed to ask for help but he does it now because he must.
He’s lucky then, that the jade green mare decided not to abandon him like any normal horse would’ve. Expecting to flick his ears and hear the sound of thundering retreat, Crevan is surprised instead to find a calm voice calling out “I’m here”. Nothing in his life had ever been so lovely, so warm and sympathetic than that phrase at that exact moment, and along with her magic he felt something else: repentance.
He should’ve never been so rude to her.
Crevan had lived so long building up the tough exterior, hiding a sensitive and damaged nature underneath, that at the first sign of another’s kindness he’s brought low with shame. He didn’t deserve the glow of security wrapping around the pulsing neurons in his brain, spreading out through his limbs with each pulsing beat of his warrior’s heart. He deserved to be abandoned here where the creatures could have their easy pickings.
She still helps him. Touches her nose to his muddy-brown shoulder and guides Crevan away from the open and back towards shelter. For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. The bulky stallion finds his legs quick enough walking behind her, but his head droops and his spirit plummets from pride to reserved sedation. The mare could’ve led him off a cliff at that point.
“... Thanks.” He murmured at last when the timing was poor. “Sorry.” Followed quickly behind it. “For the snarling earlier.” He explained.
A breath of silence.
“I don’t mingle.” The shapeshifter told her, blinking his eyes as the world slowly began to tilt back into shapes and forms again. “Ever.” He grumbled, finding the process too slow for his liking.
@[Evenstar]