"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
The Forest again? He’s become so predictable. Or was it that Beqanna was getting too small? He can never tell these days. Either way he’s here and there’s no changing that, so he might as well make the most of it. From the canopy where he rests he peers down, round eyes darting to the ground coverage below in search of a late afternoon meal. It would be easier, he reasons, to do the business as a bird. Swooping from behind at breakneck speed was a surefire way to catch something without expending a great deal of energy. However, he’s already decided to make the most of this social outing so he intends to do things the way he likes them done. Slowly, carefully, painfully precise. So, the shape of a leopard will do for now.
The spotted cat rolls easily enough off his perch, dropping head-first to land in a silent crouch, tail sweeping over the low-lying foliage that litters the woodland floor. Curved ears twitch, focusing in on individual noises here and there while the large feline waits in motionless patience. It had taken time to master the ability to become so focused on a singular goal, but Wyrm found that once he’d unlocked the puzzle of it, suddenly everything else in his world had become crystal clear too. In his youth, he’d been rash; boasting about his abilities. Now? Now he preferred to perfect them, realizing that so much more could be accomplished by saying less and showing more.
To his right the scuffle of furred feet snap his head around, body lowering while his tail stills. In a breathless moment, he is like marble and the world around him disappears. He exhales and in the same breath leaps, soaring over a low hedge to ensnare an unsuspecting rabbit. The creature squirms uselessly and with a smile Wyrm pins the poor thing, thumping solidly down on his belly to enjoy his success. The animal quivers, wide eyes nearly black in fear as the jaguar flips it on it’s back, exposing the soft underside. Wyrm lowers his massive head, inhaling the fur and closing his eyes with the intoxicating smell of fear. There was nothing in this whole, strange world that ever came close to that particular smell.
He extends a single claw, ripping the tender stomach open to watch the innards spill over in glistening release. The rabbit screams and Wyrm only shakes his head, trying ironically to shush the terrified creature. It was never fun if they died quickly, before he could catch the last breath or feel a final shudder, but this one struggles to hold on for a while, painful squeals pealing out into the now quiet maze of trees. With a chuckle Wyrm clicks his tongue, “No bunny friends here to save you.” And then his paw descends over the narrow little face, muffling out those sad, quivering notes, pushing incrementally until at last he hears the click of bone snapping and the screams cut short.
With a pleased sigh the leopard rises once more, shaking loose the thick skin over his shoulders before stretching out his back lazily. He glances sidelong at the flattened, split rabbit and flicks his tail nonchalantly before padding over it, leaving the body behind to let other creatures finish the business.
She had just about had it with this place and was contemplating returning to her father's homeland and staying with his family there. She wasn't quite sure where she belonged anymore and it made her heart hurt with the realization of it. A sigh slips from her lips and her ever wandering feet take her through the Forest, into the shadows cast by the sun on the leaves.
The rabbit screaming startled her, unexpected as it was and when it paused only to start again...? Well, the black mare was already heading in the direction to investigate. She knew she shouldn't, knew that it was probably not in her best interests but she did it anyways.
She isn't quiet, nor stealthy. Anything that was out here would sense her no matter what way she walked. So she moved easily, at a pace she liked. Then she saw the large cat playing with it's food and immediately she knew it was not a normal large cat but an equine from here. Real animals didn't have that ability, that want to sit there and listen to the screams of pain and terror.
"It's about bloody time." She says in a rush of heat and anger, the leopard finally having put the poor thing out of it's misery. "What a waste. You could at least eat it after torturing it that way." The words out of her mouth before she bothers to check them. It had been some time since she had felt the heat of anger or really any emotion beside sadness.
It felt amazing. Her blood rushing through her veins and her adrenaline quick starting her heart. All of these would no doubt be tantalizing to the large cat before her. His gold eyes study her and perhaps there was a small quiver of fear before she pushes it down, still standing boldly before him with narrowed eyes and her ears flat against her head.
It’s the first time he’s had an audience. As his rounded head slowly turns to take in the sight of her, his body also curves as well, tail arcing through the air like a whip in mid-strike. He lifts a single leg, extending the paw to unsheath his curved nails before batting the dead creature further away. So she wasn’t a fan, then? Such a shame … Wyrm preferred the company of like-minded horses. But then again, it could be equally amusing to bat around this one for a while. Pick her brain.
Maybe literally.
He sighs, deciding rather suddenly that she wasn’t worth the extended effort. “Tell me something; do you often find yourself in precarious situations because of that gaping hole underneath your nose?” He rumbles, striding forward with deliberate ease. By hole he means mouth, of course, and he’s staring intently at hers as she draws it into a solid line. With each carefully placed step the jaguar grows bigger, the back rounding like a sabertooth’s while his incisors thicken until they jut from his lips to become fully exposed. Horns sprout from his thick forehead - a pair of them, growing quickly to curl over his ears like a ram. No longer is he an ordinary creature, but something akin to a monster.
“Because I can tell you right now - this is one of those situations.” He finishes, stopping near to her so that he might sense her quickening pulse. His massive head tilts, one spotted brow rising as he sums her up. She’s intriguing in her boldness and he likes that her eyes reflect hate. Something about the way that she’s ready to attack him causes a smile to ghost over his lips, he almost wishes she would. He wonders how fast she can run.
“What do they call you?” He questions, sitting rather abruptly before drawing up to wait patiently for her reply.
His entire body seems to curl towards her. His tail flickering, his gold eyes studying her even as his lips form words. Her eyes narrow more, which is almost impossible as they are already slits on the sides of her head. "I don't find this precarious." She says boldly, her eyes widening only slightly as he grows larger, before they are slits in her head again. Her muscles tense briefly and then she forces them all to relax. If she needed to run, then she would want her body loose. If she needed to fight, the same would need to apply. Now that it was the easiest thing to keep her body loose and nonchalant while her mind was screaming DANGERDANGER WHY AREN'T YOU RUNNING!!!
She eyes his teeth, eyes his claws and then moves her eyes back up to his own. She shifts her weight evenly, takes a small step backwards away from him before she stops herself again. She sees the horns grow, sees all of his transformations and her body trembles briefly with the need to flee.
But she doesn't.
"Is it? I was enjoying a rather pleasant walk until I heard your idea of fun." She really couldn't stop. The fear was making her both braver and more foolhardy. Her tail flicks at her haunches, and while his tone is rather pleasant, she knows that all this will be just the calm before the storm. She will run or fight today and either way she would bleed. At least for a moment he is picking on someone more his own size, someone more willing to fight back than the poor defenseless rabbits.
"I am Willa." She says, with a raising of her chin ever so slightly in her pride. She turns her head to the side slightly, still keeping him in her sight. "And you, what do they call you besides monster and 'oh please god don't hurt me?'"
06-30-2016, 10:08 PM (This post was last modified: 07-01-2016, 10:06 AM by Wyrm.)
Now my horrors have become quite real
So then the fear reflected in her slitted eyes, the soft stillness of her body as her muscles clenched in fight-or-flight instinct, the very deliberate step backwards - these were not signs of distress? He, himself, was not causing her any sort of discomfort? Well .. he would’ve never guessed it. His senses could be off, he ponders. Perhaps he’s just not on top of his game these days. We can’t all be the best and so on. Or maybe, (and this is purely an assumption on his part, mostly theory really) maybe this Willa was just a terrible, pathetic liar.
That’s certainly a more believable excuse than the tilt of her chin upwards as she tries so very, very hard to make herself seem equally as foreboding. Wyrm’s seen the trick a few times in the wild and he knows a defense mechanism well when he sees one. Ah, but Willa would be a tough bone to chew, he thinks, and she’s much more amusing to him alive anyways. The horned cat chuckles, head shaking side-to-side in mild hilarity as his shoulders roll with the bass of his laughter. “You flatter me, really.” He replies, tail flicking over the ground with delight. He blinks slowly, body re-shaping until he’s equine again and staring at her through his birth-given brown eyes. He decides on a coat of midnight blue, white flecks like stars scattered haphazardly into his mane and tail and across his spine.
“They call me Wyrm, and you can too.” He tells her, mouth quirking into a half-smile. “I assume you often run into large, beastly things on your walks or your balls wouldn’t be as big as mine.” He reasons, easing into a relaxed stance now that the tension had somewhat gone. Even after all this time the other Beqannians still surprised him now and then. Horses like Willa made life simply fascinating.
Liar? Perhaps. She liked to think of it as calling his bluff. She would pretend to be brave, to not be worried about his claws and his teeth and perhaps then he wouldn't eat her. It was working so far wasn't it? He's not chomping on her bones and she didn't feel any horrible pain. She obviously wasn't dead, the slight tremble in her legs that she could only feel and not see said otherwise. Terrible and pathetic? Well she absolutely hopes she is a terrible liar. Her father hadn't raised her to be good at it. Pathetic? Possibly, depends on who you asked. She didn't think she was pathetic but her life so far....definitely pathetic.
All in all, she was solid. Instead of running away, she stood up to adversity, even if it had teeth and claws.
She'd like to think she was brave and not stupid but didn't they all think that. Hell, she was brave and stupid. Really stupid. Let's put a little emphasis on that for a moment shall we? Too late now, the black mare stands up to this monster and then....he's just a horse. She manages to keep the breath she exhales soft and quiet, nothing more than another regular breath when she would have most certainly liked to sigh loudly with relief. She knows he knows she was terrified. Okay, she's not that stupid. She can read some body language too.
His oozes confidence. And why wouldn't it? He can manipulate his body into a giant cat and probably a thousand other different things. What was there to be scared of when you had a handy tool like that? He had laughed at her, and she was only offended for a moment until she realized that he wasn't going to eat her. Thank goodness.
And his horse form is beautiful. Her brown eyes staring at his midnight blue coat as tiny twinkly stars show up. A smile curls her lips and she forgets for a moment that he had just moments ago been a giant cat. She steps forwards, her nose stretching out to touch his shoulder and she pauses midstride as she remembers. "Sorry." She murmurs, pulling back into herself. She did love small things of beauty, like his coat, baby birds in a nest, the sun rising over the trees. It was the simple things she loved.
"Wyrm." She tries his name out, a couple different statements about his name and his attitude float through her mind but she doesn't say one of them. Her body had relaxed tremendously since he had shifted back, all the tension falling from her shoulders. She was still wary, he was an unknown stallion, but not terrified. She should be. "I haven't in a while. But when I was younger we...I mean...I was often amongst the Jungle cats playing with their brood." Mentions of Strange make her heart hurt, and the memories sometimes of her best friend makes her ache. She tried to remember without remembering. "But thank you." A smile curls her lips.
