forget all the names we used to know
Just a taste - that’s all he had. A taste of what was in store for those who decided to stay and Crevan, innocent as he still may be, had enjoyed the sample. It’s enough to entice him into lingering (loitering, really) near the heart of the kingdom long after his Dam has gone and his wounds have stitched clean. There are obstacles that draw him away at first - Jah-Lilah, his twin - but soon even they begin to lose their luster in his eyes. Crevan was so tired of the family dynamics he’d been born into. Youngest son, youngest wolf, blah blah blah.
Change was the most refreshing thing he could think of at a moment like this, and in a moment like this (when Gryffen’s call cuts through his midday muse) he decides that change is just the thing to satiate his wild thirst. Why refuse what was freely being offered? Rising on four paws, the wolf-who-never-wanted-to-be-horse shakes loose the clutter of Sylvian debris from his coat and bounds away to heed the request for his presence. Life was easier lived in this body, it fit him too well to cast off for trivial things, but he trades it halfway through the journey - if only for appearances sake. When he joins the throng of others, he’s a natural, true-born muddy champagne stallion with the shock of a navy mane and tail.
Just … normal.
Gryffen speaks and Crevan likes what he hears. To him, it’s as simple as that. Worthy? Check. A killer? That’s a laugh but, check. Dedicated to exploring the taboo? Why the hell not. It’s as simple as a nod here and there, and then one-by-one they move ahead to speak until, at last, it’s Crevan’s turn. “You’ve seen me in action.” He states briefly enough, not yet ready to feel the weight of the spotlight, “I run with wolves, play with fire, and fear no death.”
So stupidly simple. What could possibly go wrong?
revan