dreamer, every time you stargaze the whole world is lying at your feet
Her family seem to have dissipated, vanished like the fog over the Taiga does on certain sunny summer days. Fiercely independent as a child, she had somehow become even more so – the disappearance of her parents had not particularly saddened her. She loved them, of course, and felt their absence, but she simply could not feel sadness at them doing what they desired. That seemed to her as crazy as being annoyed at birds for flying, or for trees for growing.
So long as she could do whatever she desired, too…. Which currently seemed to consist mostly of lying under the foliage of the Taigan redwoods, shaded from the sunshine. In her dark nooks and recesses she blossomed like the flowers of her forest; from spindly misshapen child into a woman; though more hard and angular than soft and curved - muscular, not soft, and with sharp eyes rather than sparkling. She was almost the spitting image of her mother, but her mother had been beautiful. She had been graceful, and elegant, and all those other pretty words too. Anastazja had grace, it was true, but it’s more catlike, and her elegance came more from self-assurance than it did from form of figure.
Today was different; the metal-and-cream mare had decided to visit the Meadow – not an entirely unusual decision. Leaving the Taiga behind her, she stuck decidedly on an equine form (though she typically preferred the nimble-footed tigress, the shadow of the boreal forest). She had found that not all horses enjoyed the company of a large predator, and, perhaps, she was looking for conversation this time.
Cautious, always cautious, she wandered through, the scent of horse and rabbit and grass mixing all together, becoming one – her stomach rumbled. And the sharp, familiar scent of something else – wolf. Other than tigers, it was wolves she knew best. The packs that roamed the Taiga were well known to Anastazja, and while they weren’t friends, it was more of a mutually respectful relationship – they all left each other alone.
She followed her nose to young man, by the looks of it – she would peg him to be the same age as her. In fact, she knew he was the same age as her as she had seen him previously, in the Playground. It was him, the sparkly green one, who stank of wolf and forest… And he had the fangs, too, proudly worn on his lips.
Ana watches him, head tilted slightly. She, like the rest of her Taigan family, doesn’t really have the best grasp on politeness, diplomacy – she is not, by nature, a charmer. She is staring. ”Hello,” she says, eventually. ”Do you hunt?” It is not a loaded question; it is said as easily as if it had been an inquiry as to his name. She didn’t know much of social customs, apparently, but she did know that to make friends, to make allies – to share a hunt could be a strong bonder. Her stomach rumbled again. She had not had a companion on the hunt for so long; not since her father had left and her sister disappeared… Not that she truly needed one, she was proficient and large enough to run down rabbits, even larger game such as deer. But she found that she was hungry for company, too.
sorry this is so laaaame havent done words for a while D: