05-07-2020, 10:14 PM
‘Offer yourselves belly up like this again and you’ll draw all sorts of monsters out of hiding.’
Well.
Caw doesn’t want to move, not really.
Her chest is still raw and aching, she loathes to see daylight.
When Virgo makes a move to see what the commotion is, Caw wants to follow her but cannot find the strength to do more than lift her head and stare. She blinks slowly, trying to make sense of whatever is happening—wants to call her back, wants to tell her that their bed of moss gets too cold for her to tolerate whenever she’s gone. But the words never come. Instead, she heaves a sigh and lies back down, going eerily still. Waiting. Until the bed she made them grows as icy as she predicted. Until Virgo’s absence forces her to reluctantly get to her feet; she staggers under the weight of the child they lost, her legs tingling with pins and needles, it feels as if her soul itself is whining in protest—
But Virgo has gone elsewhere.
And wherever Virgo goes, Caw is never far behind.
Her body ripples, dissipating into a fine mist that rises and draws itself forwards in the shape of a galloping horse. It flits through the forest, twisting and twining its way through the trees. It consciously avoids sunlight, skirting around the other residents of Taiga who speak in hurried whispers as if something important has happened. They’re unaware of the creature lurking in their midst. Fortunately, Caw has no interest in their gossip and does not linger to listen as she might have in her earlier years. Instead, she continues to travel along in mist-form until she finds herself alongside an empty clearing and begins the tedious task of pulling herself back into her most familiar form.
Solid again at long last, the black mare looks up, her skull loudly crunching and cracking as it twists into the shape of a wolf’s head. She lifts her snout skyward, draws in a deep breath, and lets loose a long howl. Caw knows the sound will travel, knows that wherever Virgo is she will recognize the mournful call and come to find her.
Without warning, the black mare’s head returns to its original shape with an audible ‘pop!’ and she shakes it, rolling it around to ease the tension in her neck, flexing her muscles in order to make sure that everything is exactly where it should be.
‘…And you’ll draw all sorts of monsters out of hiding.’
She tilts back an ear, turning her head towards the sound of someone or something drawing near.
They've likely come to investigate the foreign howl, but she doesn't care.
“Unless you’re my woman or one of our children, I suggest you come no closer,” the shifter warns, though she makes no further move besides flicking her tail and shifting her weight from right to left. It’s not Tannor, she knows this for certain. She left him back at their den to watch over the others. It’s not Plague, who has opted to keep to himself and travel beyond their homeland these days, far from the cruel gods of Beqanna. She looks back to the empty clearing, quietly hoping they will heed her warning and move along.
Well.
Caw doesn’t want to move, not really.
Her chest is still raw and aching, she loathes to see daylight.
When Virgo makes a move to see what the commotion is, Caw wants to follow her but cannot find the strength to do more than lift her head and stare. She blinks slowly, trying to make sense of whatever is happening—wants to call her back, wants to tell her that their bed of moss gets too cold for her to tolerate whenever she’s gone. But the words never come. Instead, she heaves a sigh and lies back down, going eerily still. Waiting. Until the bed she made them grows as icy as she predicted. Until Virgo’s absence forces her to reluctantly get to her feet; she staggers under the weight of the child they lost, her legs tingling with pins and needles, it feels as if her soul itself is whining in protest—
But Virgo has gone elsewhere.
And wherever Virgo goes, Caw is never far behind.
Her body ripples, dissipating into a fine mist that rises and draws itself forwards in the shape of a galloping horse. It flits through the forest, twisting and twining its way through the trees. It consciously avoids sunlight, skirting around the other residents of Taiga who speak in hurried whispers as if something important has happened. They’re unaware of the creature lurking in their midst. Fortunately, Caw has no interest in their gossip and does not linger to listen as she might have in her earlier years. Instead, she continues to travel along in mist-form until she finds herself alongside an empty clearing and begins the tedious task of pulling herself back into her most familiar form.
Solid again at long last, the black mare looks up, her skull loudly crunching and cracking as it twists into the shape of a wolf’s head. She lifts her snout skyward, draws in a deep breath, and lets loose a long howl. Caw knows the sound will travel, knows that wherever Virgo is she will recognize the mournful call and come to find her.
Without warning, the black mare’s head returns to its original shape with an audible ‘pop!’ and she shakes it, rolling it around to ease the tension in her neck, flexing her muscles in order to make sure that everything is exactly where it should be.
‘…And you’ll draw all sorts of monsters out of hiding.’
She tilts back an ear, turning her head towards the sound of someone or something drawing near.
They've likely come to investigate the foreign howl, but she doesn't care.
“Unless you’re my woman or one of our children, I suggest you come no closer,” the shifter warns, though she makes no further move besides flicking her tail and shifting her weight from right to left. It’s not Tannor, she knows this for certain. She left him back at their den to watch over the others. It’s not Plague, who has opted to keep to himself and travel beyond their homeland these days, far from the cruel gods of Beqanna. She looks back to the empty clearing, quietly hoping they will heed her warning and move along.