09-25-2016, 04:50 PM
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
There was nothing that said that within a world of magic, that Reagan was not allowed to enjoy her abilities. She had, for a time, been unable, or unwilling to share of herself. Magic was a power that was rare in these lands, and now, even as the Fairies hoarded it all for themselves, it was even rarer still. And yet she had made a new mark on a new world and had her magic bestowed upon her from the top of the mountain. God and the Fairies had given her the abilities of her birth, and Mary had smiled upon her all the goodness that said she was blessed.
Reagan twirled her body around, blue fire spurting up from between the toes on her icy paws, and she gave a playful yelp as she lept forward to keep up with her mate. Her blue-white tail bounced in the dark as the moon strobed off of the tree branches above—it was now spring time and the moon was full and in the air. The equinox was close and the blood in the she-wolf’s body began to race with the anticipation of the oncoming storm. She knew that there was a power coming this way that had not been seen in a millennia, and it charged her body to now end. Her hackles went up and the fur stood up on end as she breathed in the sweet smell of the forest, followed by the heady scent of Ruan as a wolf. His pheromones were intoxicating to her as she pushed up against him, pouncing up and nipping the space between his shoulder blades that he could not reach. “Mine” she says playfully, before loping off further into the Taiga, kicking up the dirt and the pinestraw, the scent of a family of voles nearby, the lust for the blood on her fangs and a full belly dying her eyes black with the need for a hunt.
She had just claimed Ruan as her own, and now she found she was starving.
Reagan twirled her body around, blue fire spurting up from between the toes on her icy paws, and she gave a playful yelp as she lept forward to keep up with her mate. Her blue-white tail bounced in the dark as the moon strobed off of the tree branches above—it was now spring time and the moon was full and in the air. The equinox was close and the blood in the she-wolf’s body began to race with the anticipation of the oncoming storm. She knew that there was a power coming this way that had not been seen in a millennia, and it charged her body to now end. Her hackles went up and the fur stood up on end as she breathed in the sweet smell of the forest, followed by the heady scent of Ruan as a wolf. His pheromones were intoxicating to her as she pushed up against him, pouncing up and nipping the space between his shoulder blades that he could not reach. “Mine” she says playfully, before loping off further into the Taiga, kicking up the dirt and the pinestraw, the scent of a family of voles nearby, the lust for the blood on her fangs and a full belly dying her eyes black with the need for a hunt.
She had just claimed Ruan as her own, and now she found she was starving.