04-27-2018, 06:07 PM
Merida
from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken
The ember-flecked woman had been all across Beqanna, never truly settling. There had been a time where she perhaps could have called herself content, but it was only when her fox took charge and obediently followed the wolf; and even then, they could not be defined as ‘settled’. Though vastly different in species and size, the two were partners (friends, though the word has never been spoken nor do they care to ever speak it). But they are two distinct identities, despite their closeness, and are rather independent. Even in their time as wild animals, they would only come together to hunt and to sleep. She would spend the day finding her burrows for the night, or munching on morsels of damp earthworms or hidden berries. He would always allow her to hunt with him, though she lacked in skill and brute strength. She has learned much from the wolf in the ways of killing and battling, but her fox-skin could only allow so much. It did not matter, though. The ferocity that burns in the scarlet irises of her eyes remains intact, despite the vulpine shape being replaced with equine. There is an animalistic look about her features - dark and plain-faced, amid the fiery red of her tendrils and the bright red flecked along her haunches and shoulders. As she moves onto the grey cliffs, ebony nostrils flaring as she inhales the crisp wind that tastes of brine and mist, she finds herself already missing the shadows of their forest. Her dark skin shivers as the wind rips past her brutally and mercilessly, causing her lips to twitch unpleasantly. She wonders if he is still there, hunting amidst the autumn foliage where she had left him. With a sharp snort and a quick toss of her head, the fire-flecked mare turns her gaze towards the horizon, the sound of the sea thousands of feet below her throbbing unceasingly in her ears.
She had never cared for diplomatics, or politics, or for the ‘royalty’ that normally accompanies a kingdom. Too many times had she lived beneath a weak king or queen, who had no power to protect their country or even themselves. Merida has chosen a life of solidarity, due to the fox-spirit she had been gifted with (and only allows a certain shifter to change that fact), and continues to live by the idea that she can do much more for herself than anyone else could. She prefers to not take company in anyone, regardless of their species.
So she is unsure as to why she has found herself on the grey and forlorn shores of Nerine. Whispers of a sisterhood had traveled through the forests darkness, where her swift paws carried her silently into conversations, and her large ears allowed her to hear the words. She is merely a forest nymph, a tiny and cunning creature in her fox-skin, and is almost always mistaken for a normal vulpine unless she allows herself to be made known. The idea intrigued her - not royalty, not a monarchy? Interesting.
Merida says nothing and does nothing. She does not call for anyone (how good are their sentries?) but she also does not waltz confidently into the kingdom (she is not a fool). She had thought for a moment to sneak in within her other skin, but a fox near the sea would easily be seen as out of place and she would quickly be found out. Instead, she opts for her less favored choice (the form she had been born with, rather than the one she had been gifted later in life), the burning embers of her eyes scanning the area with a rather emotionless expression.
legit word vomit but merida is here to get the scoop on all these amazon women
