Are you the Destroyer? [ANY]

[Merida]

Merida

from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken

She wonders if he can tell that she’s missed him - even pined for him. She would never admit it (not in a way that would be clear and precise), but she had stared out into the evening sky for weeks after his disappearance, hoping to hear the deep and lonely howl that would only belong to him. Without him, she had been isolated and alone within Sylva, seen by others as a simple, dumb fox. Only Dahmer had realized she was a shifter (kin calls to kin), but she had been careful not to let the others notice her residency had been not only one of a wild fox, but with an equine soul. Even the current queen here, Sabra, knows nothing of her fox-skin and only the ebony and red woman she revealed herself to be to the pearlescent lady, ready to fight and defend her forest for a perfect stranger.

She notices that he is not laughing nor as quippy as she remembers, though she doesn’t expect him to be as she remembers; just as she hopes he doesn’t expect her to be as he remembers. She is indifferent towards his change, though she can tell that somewhere beneath his cold gaze that something within him had broken off, or had been peeled off of him. Something irreplaceable. 

The fox continues to eat, chewing pensively on sinew and tendon. 

Her question gave way to silence (a silence that is familiar within the ember-colored halls of her dark forest), and she can feel him recalling memories, the stiffening of his muscles beneath flesh and the sharp intake of breath.

She continues eating.

But all the while, she is alert; listening.

There is immense pain beneath his story, veiled by the sharpness of his snout and the hardness of his gaze. Even she, emotionlessly staring at him as each word ties into an even sadder sentence, can feel the welling up of sympathy in her chest - she had long stopped eating and now is looking up at him with the final bits of her hare between her paws, her lips in a thin line. His story frightens her, though nothing about her would give that away save for the idle twitch of her white-tipped tail. 

She says nothing (what is there to say?) and soon he rises. She follows suit, lightly finding her feet with ease and poise. A run. Yes, of course. His gaze, however, causes her to hesitate. “Darkness proves that there is sunshine. Dawn is coming.” You will not be in darkness for much longer. Of course, she knew not of what she spoke of, nor could she truly grasp the futileness of his experiences, besides perhaps that it had latched onto his soul, determined to remain a twisted and black thing beneath his skin. 

A snarl of her own finds her black-lined lips, stepping forward to nip lightly at the empty air beneath his neck. A gesture of friendship, of understanding, of empathy. It is brief and fleeting, and the movement is fluidly followed by her lightly leaping into the forest, a flick of her white tail sending her into the depths. 
 

@[Crevan]
His story DDDDDD:
Poor Crevan