07-26-2017, 09:07 AM
Don't be afraid when the night wolves cry,
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.
“When he does,” The young stallion tells Warrick, confident in the manner that youth always tend to be,“It’ll be for good reason.”
There’s no need for worry, even though the seeds of mistrust are still sewn. Strangers (especially with powers like his own) weren’t always going to be a welcome commodity, Longclaw was aware. His grandsire had used this curse of a gift to burn the entire Jungle down, bringing her and her matriarch to its knees until a magician could come to save them, and though that time may have been forgotten here in the new Beqanna, the memory still lingered with some. Wyrm had indulged as much as possible about the fiery trait his son now housed, but even he was unaware of its true limitations.
Claw had begun to reason that the gift shaped itself to the user, and then consumed from there. The original bearer had been an unknown - someone Lupei had killed on the beach long ago (what he had used it for, the shifter would never guess.) His wolf ancestor had used it for destruction and the gift had drank it up, turned it to madness, and infected every cell in the old scags body with it. For Longclaw, the effect was different. Its outcome, too, he presumed would be different. The only indicator would be time - and he was wasting that time by standing here, telling Warrick pretty words without much action to back them up.
“However,” The boy pipes up, aligning his thoughts to a new purpose while his hovering phoenix extinguishes itself, leaving the two of them now truly bathed in starlight, “Until that time I’m going to assume, of course by your friendly manner, that I can travel inside of these borders without speculation?” His lithe smile twitches, lids blinking slowly as his eyes adjust to the new darkness around them. “I have to be on my way again, Warrick.” He chuckles lowly, “Lots of people to impress these days.”
There’s no need for worry, even though the seeds of mistrust are still sewn. Strangers (especially with powers like his own) weren’t always going to be a welcome commodity, Longclaw was aware. His grandsire had used this curse of a gift to burn the entire Jungle down, bringing her and her matriarch to its knees until a magician could come to save them, and though that time may have been forgotten here in the new Beqanna, the memory still lingered with some. Wyrm had indulged as much as possible about the fiery trait his son now housed, but even he was unaware of its true limitations.
Claw had begun to reason that the gift shaped itself to the user, and then consumed from there. The original bearer had been an unknown - someone Lupei had killed on the beach long ago (what he had used it for, the shifter would never guess.) His wolf ancestor had used it for destruction and the gift had drank it up, turned it to madness, and infected every cell in the old scags body with it. For Longclaw, the effect was different. Its outcome, too, he presumed would be different. The only indicator would be time - and he was wasting that time by standing here, telling Warrick pretty words without much action to back them up.
“However,” The boy pipes up, aligning his thoughts to a new purpose while his hovering phoenix extinguishes itself, leaving the two of them now truly bathed in starlight, “Until that time I’m going to assume, of course by your friendly manner, that I can travel inside of these borders without speculation?” His lithe smile twitches, lids blinking slowly as his eyes adjust to the new darkness around them. “I have to be on my way again, Warrick.” He chuckles lowly, “Lots of people to impress these days.”
Longclaw
![[Image: sScEgld.png]](http://i.imgur.com/sScEgld.png)