she's still out there and the chasm grows; any

[irisa]

and the walls kept tumbling down
in this city that we love

Her face flushes hot when he calls her beautiful, and she looks away, afraid of how she might feel should she meet his gaze directly. But when she does look back and sees how his wings mimic hers, she smiles, laughs softly, her laughter enriched by his. It distracts from the strange world, the brief moment of honest joy, and she is overwhelmed with gratitude that he came through to join her in this strange world that is not of her making.

She blinks when he replies to her question, taking it in a direction she hadn’t anticipated. She knows she can manipulate her own body here, but his?
(She tries not to dwell too much on the thought of his body. The smooth red skin, the velvet antlers, the ever-changing wings --)
“I-…I can try.”
She reaches her mind out to him again, unsure how to begin such a process. She is not inside his mind, after all, it’s not like when she’s manipulated her own body, where she could feel the way her body changed. She senses something, tries to grasp it, but it flits away.
So, just as she put him to sleep, she reaches out, again touching him, thinking maybe it will be easier to manipulate this way, or maybe she just wants and excuse to touch him.
It is easier, this way. She imagines fur growing, teeth sharpening, body shrinking. She pulls the feeling into her own body, mirroring, and their limbs contort, bodies changing, from equine to canine, she blinks and her vision’s changed, forward now, and the world is alive in a thousand scents she had no idea existed.
She laughs, delighted at the new sensory world, delighted that it worked – indeed, for both of them, for through her wolf-eyes she sees a red wolf before her.
“Come on,” she says, shifting her weight, feeling her claws sink into the dirt, “I’ll show you the river.”

Irisa

tarnished x heartworm