12-18-2017, 12:22 AM
Reagan
I want you to know that I'm all yours; you and me, we're the same force.
She moves, with utter silence.
Her grace is sublime and she is the paragon of the natural presence in this forest.
And yet, she was the one who's singular actions had set into motion what would cause it to burn.
She used to be the caretaker of these forests, defending the trees, their spirits, their young, and all who lived within these borders. The trees flourished and the ground made rich. Food was plentiful for all, and there was a balance of predator against the prey. All was right in her world - all was lush and green and good.
And then life happened.
Reagan has not stepped hoof inside these lands in so long, and she finds, that with hooded eyes and a wary look, that the trees do not bend for her as they used to. Their whispers are foreign to her now, though she could will them to speak to her if she so desired. However, love born out of fear is not love at all - it is something altogether evil, and Reagan, being neither good nor evil, simply stares up at them sadly, winding her way through the trees, remembering all the days she spent beneath their umbrella.
Autumn has come to Beqanna, and just on the cusp of an indian summer - the trees have only just started turning, but still they fall. A splash of color here, squirrels gathering their stockpiles for winter over there. it seems that, even in absolute squalor, life goes on in the woods - even without a magician to protect them. She is sad, but content. Things are as they should be.
She breathes, taking in a drag of honey-sweet autumn air, and for a moment, forgets herself. she transforms once again into the white wolf who inhabited these woods so very long ago, flexing and feeling the texture of the soil under paws that she forgot she had. Soil that was so familiar to her that she forgot the pleasure of simply living.
She smiles, feeling freer than she has in a while. the white wolf howls, and then shifts again into an altogether different kind of creature. A wolf's body, grown and changed into a grey green dog with the shape of a greyhound, long waves of thick hair hanging off of her in ethereal waves. her feet have changed too; three clawed toes adorn each foot, and a set of petite horns covered in green moss and lichen. She is beautiful and strange, and yet, she is at peace here in the forest - though she knows it is not her home any longer. She steps, crunching the leaves beneath her petite paw, and she hears the voice of another on the wind.
Doe eyes look around, alerted. Reagan halts all movement while she tries to see her assailant. When all she finds is a woman, she smiles. Her voice is not her own. it echoes, disembodied and enchanting. As if from a dream. A warm drunken feeling seeps into her mind as she sees the journey the young painted woman has been on, and she smiles, laying glassy eyes on her company. She had not as yet expected to meet such a woman so soon - but the gods and powers that be know best. It is why she was brought back here, after all.
"Hello Nikoline. I trust you slept well. Welcome to the Taiga."