11-05-2019, 12:39 PM
It’s easy, in the wake of renewed grief, to forget the promise he had made in the afterlife. Easy to lose everything under the pressing weight of guilt and self-recrimination. Easier still to allow anger to stem the flow of tears and send him tearing from the beach, muscles ripping apart to reform into that of a sleek black panther (it needn’t have been painful, but when one feels they deserve it as Ion does, he relishes the tearing burn).
It also would have been very easy to fall back into that old routine in the forest, hiding from life inside this feline body. But anger sends him tearing through the trees, claws slashing hapless foliage into ribbons as a snarling, grief-filled yowl escapes his throat.
Claws dig into bark as he pulls himself abruptly into a tree, feet easily finding branches as he springs agilely through the canopy, as though he could outrun his own emotions. Quite unexpectedly, a small bird nearly slams into his face, causing him to flinch, his lips peeling back to reveal his teeth as he snaps instinctively at it. Rather than fleeing however, the little bird trills angrily at him, as though reprimanding his hubris. He growls, yellow eyes fixing with intent before a sudden sort of recognition reaches past the anger. He stills, blinking in surprise. For a time, he can only stare, which the wren appears to take as an invitation. Chirping brightly, the small brown bird flutters down, settling into his dark ruff without apparent thought or concern.
For a long minute, Ion only stares at where the bird had been a moment earlier before chuffing indignantly, tail twitching abruptly. Finally, with a sigh, he springs forward once more, bird burrowing into the dense hair of his neck as though it fully intends to come along for the ride. Which, as it turns out, it does. Though his rage had not entirely subsided, the appearance of the familiar little creature had allayed the worst of it.
Enough so that, when he leaps to the next tree and catches on unfamiliar feline scent, his first instinct is not simply ‘attack’. Stilling, Ion flattens himself against the branch, ears pressing against his skull as yellow eyes scan the foliage. Though he cannot yet see the source of the scent, he knows it’s close. Shifting back until his haunches are against the truck, he hisses, dark hair prickling as it rises from his skin.
It also would have been very easy to fall back into that old routine in the forest, hiding from life inside this feline body. But anger sends him tearing through the trees, claws slashing hapless foliage into ribbons as a snarling, grief-filled yowl escapes his throat.
Claws dig into bark as he pulls himself abruptly into a tree, feet easily finding branches as he springs agilely through the canopy, as though he could outrun his own emotions. Quite unexpectedly, a small bird nearly slams into his face, causing him to flinch, his lips peeling back to reveal his teeth as he snaps instinctively at it. Rather than fleeing however, the little bird trills angrily at him, as though reprimanding his hubris. He growls, yellow eyes fixing with intent before a sudden sort of recognition reaches past the anger. He stills, blinking in surprise. For a time, he can only stare, which the wren appears to take as an invitation. Chirping brightly, the small brown bird flutters down, settling into his dark ruff without apparent thought or concern.
For a long minute, Ion only stares at where the bird had been a moment earlier before chuffing indignantly, tail twitching abruptly. Finally, with a sigh, he springs forward once more, bird burrowing into the dense hair of his neck as though it fully intends to come along for the ride. Which, as it turns out, it does. Though his rage had not entirely subsided, the appearance of the familiar little creature had allayed the worst of it.
Enough so that, when he leaps to the next tree and catches on unfamiliar feline scent, his first instinct is not simply ‘attack’. Stilling, Ion flattens himself against the branch, ears pressing against his skull as yellow eyes scan the foliage. Though he cannot yet see the source of the scent, he knows it’s close. Shifting back until his haunches are against the truck, he hisses, dark hair prickling as it rises from his skin.
Oops, my fingers slipped :|