forget all the names we used to know
Celest isn’t near as annoying as he suspected she might be. The filly had kept up her end of the deal - no useless screaming, no attempts at escape, and certainly no more blasting - so Crevan is willing enough to slip comfortably back into his wolf skin as they continue on. In all his life, he’s never wondered if that action disturbed other horses: trading one body for another. Sure, it looks uncanny and appears hardly possible, yet he never cries out in pain or seems the least put off by the exchange. It’s a way of life; one step he’s stretching out with the sight of a dark hoof clearly ahead, the next he’s reaching forward to grip loose earth between pale, clawed toes.
“Okay, so, don’t get weirded out or anything, but,” He starts, once his transition is finished and the two are clipping along pleasantly, “I think it’s a giant free-for-all?”
Odd, that he wouldn’t know what his own kingdom mates were up to under his nose. Odder still that he would be the one to shy away from it in favor of kidnapping a young girl … there are parts of himself that Crevan has chosen to ignore in favor of minute interests. He lives every day without fear of death, but suffocated eternally by the fear of himself, of what he could be, if only he indulged in acts similar to the ones they’re about to view.
“Whatever that means.” He finishes, pointing a stark nose aside with the attempt to locate Sylva’s people. His attention jumps; the sudden jerk of his head brings round, navy eyes back to where Celest stands and a question springs free from the back of his mind. “What were you doing in that offshoot by the River?”
revan
@[Celest]