forget all the names we used to know
If there was ever a laugh to fill one’s emptiness, Merida’s lighthearted bells would be the very thing. Crevan’s eyes dance from the corners of her dark lips, where the upturned edges bring light to her wild eyes; to the soft, velvety wrinkles over her nose that mirth can only sculpt. He reasons that this is a sight not often seen: Merida’s defenses brought so low that she might actually enjoy herself with him (of all creatures.) It feels like … victory. The young wolf has never felt this way before about someone else; it confuses and exhilarates him though he cannot name it. And still, she teases him! With a bark of his own deep tenor he joins her, fully aware of the joke, “Come winter you might not think it half so bad a trick.” given as his only rebuttal.
Her question of his knowledge on Loess won’t go unanswered, it only settles in his mind while their laughter ebbs once more to quiet. The sandstone canine rises for good this time, forest litter still clinging hopelessly to the mats of pale fur along his underbelly. “I’ve seen lots of things, and hunted them all.” He growls, mimicking a ferocious stance as he hunches suddenly, ears flattening against his skull in the same instant. His ivory lips glide up, over jagged, yellowed row upon row of teeth and his tongue peeks out from the tips of his incisors. He looks the part of story-beast, crouched low and gums exposed, as if he could spring upon an enemy twice his size and never fear defeat. A creature double his true age with a ferocity to match.
But his tail wags, only once, and then his body is smoothing out once more to blur the image of night terror and replace it with the wolf Merida has come to know this day. At full height once more the shifter tilts his head back to the fox, tongue lolling from the edge of his mouth as he pants, “You should learn to kill your own prey. I’ve decided I’ll train you.”
It’s as if he’s never come up with a better idea in all his life. The way his gaze relays a sense of pride in the thought, the sincerity and finality in his words - there was nothing to convince him otherwise. “We can start-” He begins, but his nose twitches faintly and then all animation in his face disappears to leave his expression slack, blank. Slapped by an invisible palm his head jerks about, ears smarting to attention while those dark eyes scan the forest around them. He whuffs, once or twice as confusion alights on his brow, dragging it down to shade his gaze. “Mother?” He thinks. Far from them, perhaps imperceptible to others without their enhanced hearing, a horse cries out.
“Later. We can start later.” Crevan speaks finally. Gone is the bright youth, replaced now by duty and a sullen, walled-off attitude. “I’ll find you, alright? Merida. Don’t forget - I’m Crevan.” He breaths hurriedly with the twist of his legs. Rushed now he pads swiftly to her side, unceremoniously burying the tip of his sandy nose into her scruff before she can protest or deny. He laughs; exhales a last, warm goodbye into the small shoulder beneath his lips, and leaps over her to dart quickly into the tangle of woodland.
They’ll see each other again, perhaps sooner than she thinks.
revan
@[Merida]