01-25-2017, 08:24 AM
Ruan
It was rare that he left the forest, and even stranger still to see him at the field. There were times when he would make the trip, only to scan the faces before turning right back. There wasn't anything in particular he was searching for, or he didn't think there was, but only a select few could pull his shadow from beneath the trees to approach them on behalf of the Taiga and its pack.
Today, though. His nose found her first, a memory tied to a face: Red and black daughters that had played together for a time, a woman of forest green. She drove him from the dark canopies, eager for familiar company and curiosity piqued.
He approached steadily with the natural balance of one accustomed to the unpredictable debris of a forest floor, sparing a curt nod to the silver one. They had already had this conversation once before and he wasn't one to repeat himself. Or say much of anything, at times. She was clearly doing well, and so he didn't ask, and instead set his attention to Circinae.
Circinae, he greeted evenly, her name pulled easily from memory, his heart lighter at seeing her again. She was much the same -graceful, beautiful, with a power that hid in the depths of her eyes-, save for the lack of the red child, but her scent had gone stale and so he wouldn't ask after her. He, on the other hand, was much changed: colder, quieter, scars at his sides where his wings had been, eyes no longer a dull, dark blue but bright with magic.
But there was something different with her, something that set his skin prickling and made him careful not to turn his intense, blue gaze from her. Intuition chilled him, called to him: to the forest. And he spoke without needing to think on it.
Another visit to the Taiga?
Home. Where the Tiger still roamed and wolves hunted. Where he traded hooves for paws and dark fur at night with borrowed magic. Where they were a unit, wild and strong. Natural.
He said nothing more. He didn't have to.
Today, though. His nose found her first, a memory tied to a face: Red and black daughters that had played together for a time, a woman of forest green. She drove him from the dark canopies, eager for familiar company and curiosity piqued.
He approached steadily with the natural balance of one accustomed to the unpredictable debris of a forest floor, sparing a curt nod to the silver one. They had already had this conversation once before and he wasn't one to repeat himself. Or say much of anything, at times. She was clearly doing well, and so he didn't ask, and instead set his attention to Circinae.
Circinae, he greeted evenly, her name pulled easily from memory, his heart lighter at seeing her again. She was much the same -graceful, beautiful, with a power that hid in the depths of her eyes-, save for the lack of the red child, but her scent had gone stale and so he wouldn't ask after her. He, on the other hand, was much changed: colder, quieter, scars at his sides where his wings had been, eyes no longer a dull, dark blue but bright with magic.
But there was something different with her, something that set his skin prickling and made him careful not to turn his intense, blue gaze from her. Intuition chilled him, called to him: to the forest. And he spoke without needing to think on it.
Another visit to the Taiga?
Home. Where the Tiger still roamed and wolves hunted. Where he traded hooves for paws and dark fur at night with borrowed magic. Where they were a unit, wild and strong. Natural.
He said nothing more. He didn't have to.
