"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
One of the first things Mazikeen had done after finding out their home had moved to Hyaline was to seek out Dayé and make sure her mentor and friend knew as well. It wouldn’t be home, wherever they were, without the rose-coloured wolf.
The day is coming to a close when Mazikeen finds her now, calling out a greeting as her osprey-self as she circles above before coming to land in the dusky light and shift into the white wolf form she has almost always used around Dayé. It’s filled out more now as she has aged, but more importantly it hides some of the scars she carries.
She doesn't pause to wonder why this matters - maybe she's ashamed that after Dayé and her won a fight against a lone wolf, she lost so much to a monster in the shadows.
There is so much weight in all the things that have happened for the last year, in the absence of Sochi, but not so much to stop her from greeting Dayé with an affectionate nudge of her black-tipped muzzle. Something of a mischievous grin lights up her orange eyes when she pulls back, putting humour on not-funny-at-all memory that comes to her first.
“Do you think there will be any rogue wolves here in the mountains?”
when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,
There is not many reasons that Daye can find to roam in her equine form. It had only been a few days and though coming head to head with a rogue wolf was something she had been ready for, she had not been ready for the fear that had encapsulated her for the first time in her life - the fear for not her own life, of course, but for the young girl (now woman?) she had come to know and care for. It had shaken her; moreso than she had ever thought it could, and so beneath the shadow of a gently swaying willow tree, the once-wolf now stands as an older mare.
The blue sheen to her pale gold perhaps would be familiar for some; a sign of her lineage that she had long since buried beneath her. She stays true to her rugged self, of course - her flaxen mane is full of burrs and tangles, knotted and unkempt across the slender slope of her muscled neck. A sharp blaze - white as bone - is thickly stark against the gold of her face and the darkness of her muzzle.
For a moment she wonders if Mazikeen would be able to place her in such a shape - refined, nearly, in her equine form - but her concern is quickly tossed to the side as the cry of the ocean bird sings familiarly in her ears. The golden mare steps into the sunlight, the blue of her skin electrifying in waves as the light hits the muscle of her shoulders and flanks.
The white wolf comes towards her and with a devilish smile, Daye transforms into the rose-colored wolf that Maze would recognize so well. She huffs gently against the pure white of her friend’s cheek in return, her pink tongue brushing against the soft fur. They continue walking further into Hyaline, Daye’s eyes set on the crystalline lake at its center; two wolves wandering out in the open.
Mazikeen’s question rouses a chuckle from Daye’s black-lined lips, her dirt-stained legs continuing to bring them further into the kingdom. “No,” she replies hastily as if shutting down any fears the younger may have. With a snort, she adds: “There will be much bigger things, now. Mountain lions, even.” Her tail flicks behind her once and then twice, glancing to see her reaction - perhaps it was too soon for such jest, but Daye never really could read the room.
It would be a lie to say that she did not notice the new scars that adorn the white wolf, nor the way that she had grown in the year they had spent together. Daye may not be the sentimental type, but she did find a place in her heart for Mazikeen and truly wished her all the happiness she deserves. “You’re stronger now, you know.” The elder mentions casually, tipping her chin upwards and bringing her gaze towards the lake once again. “That’s something to be proud of.”
Dayé
where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.
10-25-2020, 05:58 PM (This post was last modified: 10-25-2020, 05:58 PM by Mazikeen.)
Mazikeen’s smile warms as she watches her friend and mentor shift into the very familiar wolf form. They’ve only ever interacted in other shapes, though she knew Dayé in horse form as well as she would recognize her own mother. Still, there’s a comfort to both being wolves again as they wander into Hyaline with matched strides and take in their new home together.
Mazikeen does not mind the jest in response to her own teasing question about rogue wolves - and when Dayé looks to the lake she takes the opportunity to shift into a mountain lion. The true effect is a little lost - she is still white, after all, with four black paws and a mark on her face but her orange eyes dance with mischief. It’s a casual message too - that no matter what this new place might throw at them, she can change to meet whatever danger. She’s not afraid.
Or, more accurately, she is trying to not be afraid.
She cheekily purrs a little at Dayé’s casual complimentary words but as she thinks about them her mood grows a little sombre and she looks down at her large feline paws. They do comfort her, but their warmth is tempered by her own uncertainty. And as much as she wishes she could always be strong with the older wolf, she’s comfortable enough to be honest too. “I don’t feel like it, not all the time.” Sometimes she jumped when she heard a twig snapping and she was alone in the woods at night. Sometimes she slept in trees just to avoid being on the ground when she couldn’t find one of their pack to be near. And that thought causes her to look to Dayé with a smile that isn’t even a little sarcastic. “Not when I’m with my family.”
Mazikeen moves then, drifting closer to the lake, and when they are close to the shore she asks “Where were you born, Dayé?”
11-01-2020, 12:33 PM (This post was last modified: 11-01-2020, 12:33 PM by Dayé.)
when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none
Though the realm of Hyaline is unfamiliar, falling into step beside Mazikeen feels like the most natural thing in the world. There is a low grumble of contentment within the dusty-rose of Daye’s muddied chest; a sound that has no words but vibrates with satisfaction - a sound that is so robust and wolf-like, that she does not shy away from the striking idea that she is more wolf than horse. Perhaps Mazikeen would feel it too - this primal, feral, instinctual part of them that becomes whole when they are together. Even when the younger girl takes other shapes, Daye cannot refuse nor deny the way her own wolf calls to Mazikeen.
It is why when a white lion appears beside her - beautiful and elegant - Dayé snakes her shaggy head forward to nip at the thickness of the folds of her pale skin (with some force, of course, because Dayé knows nothing else) beneath the now bigger and stronger Mazikeen. Dayé’s long snout pulls away to press against her chest playfully, feeling at ease beside the shifter no matter what shape she takes. It’s an unspoken loyalty that lies between them and though fear had flooded her eyes during their skirmish with the rogue wolf, Dayé knows now that she would not have to worry about Maze - she can certainly hold her own.
“Even if you don’t feel like it,” Dayé replies casually with a gentle roll of her shoulders as the pair walks side by side (an unusual sight, a white feline, and a dirt-caked wolf) “It doesn’t make it any less true.”
They are closer to the lake now, falling into a gentle silence that, for once, holds no humor or lightness between them. It isn’t sullen or sad, but for a moment, Dayé felt as though what they spoke of was too serious for playful banter. Her coffee-brown eyes flick upwards to the large feline that pads heavily beside her, watching the uncertainty in her blazing orange gaze that seems so unfitting on a countenance so fearsome. Dayé frowns, nosing Mazikeen’s muscled shoulder gently with a touch of her moist, wet nose against the thick, white fur. A soft whine leaves her in comfort. “In Tephra,” Dayé mentions as she turns her head towards the lake, the chill of winter biting at her legs where her winter coat isn’t as thick. “Raised by a lioness and the blue wolf.”
There is a hint of a smile on her dark lips, thinking of her mute mother, Diorae, and the familiar blue flame of her father, Longclaw. The memory is so long ago that it seems fuzzy in Dayé’s mind, but they had been a pack in the midst of Tephra’s humidity and smoke. It is no question why Dayé leans so heavily on her wolf skin and the accompanying ferocity that comes with it.
Mazikeen laughs a deep, throaty laugh as Dayé snakes her head forward to nip at the thick scruff of the lioness. She reaches out with a lazy paw, playfully swatting away her friend. Keeping her claws in, of course.
She’s grateful for Dayé’s casual words of encouragement, though she’s not sure how to respond to them - just ducking her large head in acknowledgement. And when the wolf touches her gently in comfort, Mazikeen leans into the touch.
The urge to run from this bond is in the back of her mind but it gains no ground. Although uncomfortable with being honest, with the memories that haunt her of a rogue wolf and a monster, Mazikeen loves Dayé too much. It’s a blessing to not feel compelled to keep those walls up as strict as she does with outsiders.
She listens, rounded ears perked and curious as Dayé explains that she was born in Tephra to a lioness and a blue wolf. This combination of feline and canine suits her - and it makes Mazikeen grin a little at the parallel to the shapes they wear now.
She stops walking at the shore of the lake, just shy of where the water would touch her black paws. “Nowhere, really. The meadow I think, or somewhere close to it. My mom lived in Pangea but we stayed in the common lands with my dad." Maze had pieced together much of the secrets Agetta tried to keep. She understood why the white mare had them, and didn’t resent them. Even with the weight of everything outside their small bubble of a family, Maze was given a good start. She was loved by two parents that loved each other and she had her freedom to roam and explore. Which was how she met Dayé and eventually Sochi.
"He’s not a shifter but she’s a snow leopard.” There’s a soft reverence to her when she speaks of her mother’s favourite shape - a fondness easier to share when Agetta isn’t around. “Sometimes I feel guilty for finding a second family without my parents but I think they’re just happy I am.” And it wasn’t like either Agetta or Garbage didn’t have second families of their own. Or thirds...
Families were complicated.
“Do you have any kids?” Although she's vaguely aware this is potentially a rude question to ask, her orange eyes boldly find the brown ones of her friend - appropriately curious in this cat form.
when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,
The wolf-woman falls easily into a pattern of silence beside Mazikeen. Prior to this, the once younger version of herself played privy to a pirate lord, back when Loess and its rag-tag band of misfits ruled and profited. It had been the last time she had felt at home and as she strides in silence casually besides the large tiger, she felt herself falling back into that same familiarity - a home and a family surrounds her once again. As a wolf and as a mare, the thought is comforting.
“Nowhere is good,” Dayé states simply. Part of her is glad that she had a home as a filly, but her father was bold and brash and was killed sooner than his age would have taken him, and her mother disappearing once his iron fist no longer kept her bound. Her half-brother, Wolfbane, had been her saving grace in those tumultuous times - she was young and easily swayed; she wonders now what would have happened had he not nudged her in the right direction. But even their relationship deteriorated in time - he strived for bigger, more gallant things while Dayé only wished a life of simplicity. These differences allowed her to part ways peacefully, where she had met Sochi and led her to where she is now - Hyaline, with a different tigress by her side.
She grins mischievously to herself, finding it funny how things tend to repeat themselves.
Dayé’s inquisitive brows rise on her rose-colored face, huffing gently. “That doesn’t surprise me at all,” she comments with a chuckle, not finding it uncanny in the least bit that a snow leopard and a lioness as a mother will create the two creatures that stand together now. The wolf’s large, triangular ears flip back casually, hinting at the distaste of Mazikeen’s confession. “Never feel guilty doing what is best for you.” There is no gesture with the words, but they are final and poignant - enough so that Dayé would be surprised if her friend questioned her about it.
They’ve come to the lake at the epicenter of Hyaline, halting squarely together on the softly-lapped shoreline. The water is still and unwavering, and for a moment the wolf fancies herself a swim. But the next question that Mazikeen asks throws her off. There is a bark in her throat, haughty and unfiltered, as she gently shakes her head. “No, I haven’t gotten around to that.” Her coffee-brown eyes roll playfully. “I’m entirely too busy taking care of you.”
Dayé
where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.
The pale mountain lion tilts her head and smiles in appreciation for Dayé’s words about not feeling guilty. It is good to hear that sentiment, even though it doesn’t really release Mazikeen of all she feels. There are some things that cannot evaporate with words even if she wishes that she would. She hoped that one day the feeling of family would not feel so complicated - that she could find nothing but joy in both the one she found and the one she was born in.
Dayé does not appear to have any such reservations, which certainly gives her hope. As in so many other things, the rose-wolf will be a role model for her.
There’s a bark of laughter at the question Maze asked about kids - which is good, at least she hadn’t offended her friend. No (other) kids then - though this surprised her greatly. It was not difficult to see Dayé as a mom in the least. With pups of her own, teaching them how to hunt and wrestle.
The lion paces a little bit forward until the water swells just around her paws. “And doing a great job at it too.” Mazikeen says when she turns back to look at Dayé with a laugh of her own, though she certainly does mean the words. And then, quick as she can, she swipes at the water with her large forelimb and sends a splash towards the wolf before she surges out - purposefully making as big of splashes as she can as she moves in the shallows.
