Something's got a hold on me || Wishbone ||

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

Awake and certainly not feeling ready for small talk, Wolfbane’s mind was a cacophony of thoughts that weren’t his own. Initially the feeling of a fleshy body being struggled over by cursed spirits was annoying enough that he stood momentarily frozen and blank-faced, trying to reorient himself and settle on one dominant entity or the other. The chill of a quiet late winter’s morning stung his nose as he inhaled and stared behind glassy eyes out into the waking world, a horse made of stone.

Had Wishbone circumvented him or kept her distance, Wolfbane would’ve as well. The stallion she remembers so fondly and quickly approaches wouldn’t have done the same for her, if he’d noticed her movement from afar.

The new coat is partially to blame; even the old Wolfbane couldn’t have guessed who it was that was making her way on long legs toward him. But mostly he would’ve ignored her because, well, these days that’s just how he functioned. He lives with simple rules: no needs or life above his own, no old acquaintances or new connections. It was the only way to keep from falling into one or another archetypal behavior, since he carried about four alter-egos around (not including the biggest: his own.)

But her curiosity and ignorance of everything that’d conspired over the handful of time since their last meeting leads her comfortably nearer to him and ever closer to a monster. Bone has changed on the outside; Bane has done all of his changing underneath the skin. She utters his name and in return she’s greeted by the jerk his head as he turns to stare her down. There’s venom in that look - she knows him and therefore she breaks a rule, but before he can retaliate a voice from within himself gives Wolfbane reason to pause.

“Hold up.” It warns him, ascending to the forefront of his mind while the rest of the voices quiet down. “We know that voice.” And Wolfbane agrees. That rasp… as if she swallowed fire and drank smoke.

“My little @[Wishbone]?” The golden-blue stallion replies incredulously, expressing surprise through Wolfbane’s eyes and disbelief through the tilt of his blue mouth, but saying her name in the tone of a father looking lovingly down on his grown daughter. A tone of authority mingled with too-warm recognition at last. “Well well…” He breathes charmingly, coming to life and shuffling easily to get a look at her from both sides. “I’d have to say black suits you, darling.”

The swagger of his rolling shoulders and haunches, the way he seemed almost lazy when he moved yet aggravatingly confident meant that the voice inside of his head - the one who knew both Bane and Bone, the one that watched them grow up together - was the one settling into eager control over the body Wishbone had desired once upon a time.

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: Normal  ◉  Mood: Indifferent