01-31-2022, 08:01 AM
The wolf shape is one of Myrna’s favorites. Her coat is white-gold, with a longer platinum streak running from between her flower-studded ears, down her back, and to her full white tail - the wolflike version of her equine spinal mane. She wears the horns of her horse shape as well, two pearlescent spirals that have grown from the small buds she’d had as a child. She’s an adult now, say those horns, and she’s very proud of them. Too proud of them to shift them away, even when the rest of her is otherwise lupine.
She had heard the entities earlier, and seen the pair of flying figures. Strangers, Myrna thinks, and she’ll be the one to greet them.
Breaking from the cover of the copse of wisteria, Myrna moves toward the edge of the lake. Against the bare stone and green grasses, her pale figure is easy to see, but she still raises her head to yip out a greeting to the pair of phoenixes circling the lake.
If they were true phoenixes, Mynra knows that the residents of Hyaline wouldn’t have been made aware of their presence. She glances from one to the other, noticing their brilliant blue plumage. When they land, will they shift to horses, she wonders? Perhaps she should be polite, and welcome them by showing them her own equine form.
Becoming a mare takes only a moment of concentration, and soon she is standing on hooves rather than paws, and looking quite like her mother as she stares up at the visitors with an easy smile and curious dark blue-grey eyes.
@Sickle
She had heard the entities earlier, and seen the pair of flying figures. Strangers, Myrna thinks, and she’ll be the one to greet them.
Breaking from the cover of the copse of wisteria, Myrna moves toward the edge of the lake. Against the bare stone and green grasses, her pale figure is easy to see, but she still raises her head to yip out a greeting to the pair of phoenixes circling the lake.
If they were true phoenixes, Mynra knows that the residents of Hyaline wouldn’t have been made aware of their presence. She glances from one to the other, noticing their brilliant blue plumage. When they land, will they shift to horses, she wonders? Perhaps she should be polite, and welcome them by showing them her own equine form.
Becoming a mare takes only a moment of concentration, and soon she is standing on hooves rather than paws, and looking quite like her mother as she stares up at the visitors with an easy smile and curious dark blue-grey eyes.
@Sickle