08-10-2016, 07:10 AM
For a while they are both silent, and Raene looks more closely at the myriad of colors that make up both her own new coat as well as the one of the coyote in front of her. They are more than sandy brown and grey, she finds, and yet despite all her effort, the feet at the end of her legs have remained determinedly hooves instead of paws. Curiously, she watches the canid press his paws into the ground and study the paw-prints he leaves behind. What is he doing?
She doesn’t have time to ask before he’s noticed her shift in color, and she grins back quite easily. (Though it is a bit hard to tell the difference between his mischeif smile and his real one – perhaps they are one in the same.)
”I can,” she answers, and in a furrow of her brow she is as bright a green as the emerald leaves overhead. That color fades quickly – green is not her most flattering shade – until she has returned to the color she was born. Blue-black, with her fathers spots on a white blanket that wraps around her hips, spotted here and there with Mother’s salmon pink, the ends of her mane and tail a matching unnatural hue. He’s been circling as she’s been changing shades, so when he darts behind a tree she is not startled. The exclamation of pain is though ,and she cranes her neck curiously without moving from her spot in the woods.
”Are you alright?”
Her concern is genuine and deep; Raene’s innate sense of compassion has only been fostered by her loving parents and a childhood spent beside a magical entity whose greatest strength was the soothing of hurt. There is no denying that a bit of the Falls magic has seeped into them all – whether consciously or not – and in Raene it manifests in the careful way she watches for the coyote.
But he is no longer a coyote!
The brown animal that emerges from behind the tree is no more a canine than Raene is, and she watches in fascination as he comes closer. He is horse from his hooves to his tail, and she knows this having looked over every inch. It is only after that she realizes he is a fine looking horse in his own right, but she does not have time to blush, instead she stares in open fascination. ”That was so neat! Can you do that all the time too?”
She doesn’t have time to ask before he’s noticed her shift in color, and she grins back quite easily. (Though it is a bit hard to tell the difference between his mischeif smile and his real one – perhaps they are one in the same.)
”I can,” she answers, and in a furrow of her brow she is as bright a green as the emerald leaves overhead. That color fades quickly – green is not her most flattering shade – until she has returned to the color she was born. Blue-black, with her fathers spots on a white blanket that wraps around her hips, spotted here and there with Mother’s salmon pink, the ends of her mane and tail a matching unnatural hue. He’s been circling as she’s been changing shades, so when he darts behind a tree she is not startled. The exclamation of pain is though ,and she cranes her neck curiously without moving from her spot in the woods.
”Are you alright?”
Her concern is genuine and deep; Raene’s innate sense of compassion has only been fostered by her loving parents and a childhood spent beside a magical entity whose greatest strength was the soothing of hurt. There is no denying that a bit of the Falls magic has seeped into them all – whether consciously or not – and in Raene it manifests in the careful way she watches for the coyote.
But he is no longer a coyote!
The brown animal that emerges from behind the tree is no more a canine than Raene is, and she watches in fascination as he comes closer. He is horse from his hooves to his tail, and she knows this having looked over every inch. It is only after that she realizes he is a fine looking horse in his own right, but she does not have time to blush, instead she stares in open fascination. ”That was so neat! Can you do that all the time too?”