• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    looking for the man in the moon; any
    #1
    Iron and Wine are a matched pair - same size, same height, same expressions on their small faces. All that sets them apart is that Iron is a silver bay overo with his pattern in the shape of flames while Wine is just a regular black overo. The look in their eyes is impish in nature, and it is clear that neither of them are up to no good as they play amongst the rocks (fallen boulders and other volcanic debris) at the edge of the sea. Mother and father are off canoodling for once, trusting the twins to keep out of trouble and for the most part, they have as they frolic at the sea’s edge.

    One minute, a pair of foals are darting in and out of the big rocks and the wild surf.
    The next minute, two sleek panther cubs are engaged in a fight rolling end over end together.

    They manage to break apart and face off against one another, growling and slashing the air in mock threat with their little claws. Even in this shape, they are still a matched pair - sleek, black, hissing and spitting as they advance upon one another until the sister pins her brother with a look of triumph blazing plain to see on her panther-face. Laughing, he shifts back into a colt and knocks her off him as she shifts back to a horse too. “No fair!” she crows, a little breathless from their play and from having the wind knocked out of her by her brother and the change.

    “Who said I played by the rules?” He rolled over and climbed to his feet, effecting an air of superior aloofness. She charged him, attempting to ram her head into his shoulder but he sidestepped her with ease. This angered Wine who drew up short and rounded on him with bared milk-teeth. “Brat!” she spat and flounced off between the rocks, pretending to ignore him as if he was of no further interest or use to her. He blew out a snort and let her have her tantrum except she didn’t come back to him like she sometimes did. Sighing, he followed after her into the rocks and the sea.

    But Wine was crafty; she shifted shape and crouched low atop a tall boulder - taller than Iron could see over, and she swallowed the chuckle that rose in her panther throat as he came walking by with the smallest frown pinching his mouth. That made it harder to keep from laughing. He was mad at her! “Wine?” he called, expecting her to answer or charge at him from around one of the rocks but lo and behold, she pounced on him from above and clung to his bucking back as he tried to shake her off. She sank her teeth into his neck and rode him to the ground as he shifted beneath her and tried to fight her off.

    Wine let him and Iron finally pinned her to the ground even as she lazily swiped a paw at his face. “Not fair,” he growled and she laughed even harder before catching her breath and wheezing out a “No rules, remember?” which made Iron growl again before he pushed himself off of her. She was right and he knew it, having been tricked by his own sister! Pah! He sat back on his haunches, tail twitching in anger as she came and sat beside him, looking prim and starting to lick a paw like there was nothing wrong in the world at all. Iron made it a point to ignore her, hearing her chuckle from time to time as she cleaned her claws.
    #2
    like the sun swallowed up by the earth
    Despite the grandeur of the wings at his sides, the blue-bay stallion rarely takes to the skies. On clear nights, where the moon hung lazily in the heavens and the stars made their way like a sparkling sea throughout the sky, he’d find use for his wings. He’d careen and swoop through the sultry night air, playing beneath the starlight yet above the world, either staring down into the rippling sea, crinkling beneath him like elephant’s skin, or up towards the endless galaxies that swirl above him. A perfect paradox; always stuck between his two homes, one of Tephra and one of the stars.
     
    Beneath the sweltering heat of the Tephran sun, the stallion makes his way through bramble and bush towards the open sea. His wings are tucked neatly into the auburn of his muscular body, their feathers freshly preened and immaculate. Between the normal sounds of Tephra (the viscous bubble of boiling magma, the splash of hard ocean water against spliced rock, the sharp call of lazy gulls near the coast), Warrick’s blue-tipped ears prick at the unusual sound (though not unfamiliar) of children’s voices and laughter, mixed with annoyed tones and shouting.
     
    For a moment, he listens while he walks quietly, trying to pinpoint the source. He may have though it was his own children romping within the thick, tropical foliage, but the soft and distant voices were not that of his precious Svedka and Solace. No, this interaction was much different.
     
    The stallion snorts sharply as the sound of a feral snarl (however tiny and miniscule coming from a child’s lips) reaches him. Instinctively and with immediate alarm, the great navy wings flex outwards from his body in a ruffle of dread, letting their lithe bones carry him faster towards whatever was only just in the distance.
     
    The scene that unfolds before him is unlike what he is expecting to find, and in shock, he stumbles a bit as he comes upon the two panther cubs. He had perhaps expected foals to be in the vicinity, and he comes to a faltering halt as he is met with the feline stare of two very unafraid and very unhurt cubs. His wings, still outstretched in a defensive arch in attempts to appear larger and more frightening (and to intimidate any beast that he thought he would find), quietly bring themselves to his sides, laying haphazard and unkempt as they fold.
     
    Taking a well-educated guess, Warrick figures that the snarl he heard is not from an actual panther, but from two very talented and young shifters. Of course, if he’s wrong, a mother panther could be waiting in the shadows.
     
    “Who won?” he asks cautiously, watching curiously as one of the cub’s cleans its shining claws, and noticing the other with a rather unhappy demeanor.
    Warrick
    #3
    Two sets of very feline heads turn towards the clatter of hooves amongst sand and rock and the pair of panthers watch as the blue-tipped stallion stumbles in surprise at finding them - panthers, and not foals. In tandem, their heads tip sideways as they stare dumbfounded at the broad blue wings that are flared defensively then settle in haphazardly against his back. A single thought seems to be shared between their brains - is he stuck in between? Though neither of them is telepathic. It just happens that twins sometimes think the same things at the same time as their eyes slide to one another then back to the half-horse half-bird thing.

    Iron was still grumpy that Wine had bested him not once but twice in panther form as she ceased to clean her claws now that the bird-stallion had come upon them. “She did,” he growls through pouting lips. Neither of them realizing that they should change back since this is the first adult to catch them like this in their secret shape - a thing they’ve kept from their own parents, though each of them suspects mother and father know something is different about them. Two foals cannot come home to loving nips and kisses and not think the scratches from cat’s paws and bites from non-equine teeth would go unnoticed.

    Wine smirks; “He’s just mad because for once, I beat him and twice in the same day!” There is a note of genuine happiness in her growly voice as she avoids the sudden swipe of her brother’s paw by dodging out of the way in a nimble leap. “See? He doesn’t like it when a girl wins.” she crows through happy teasing laughter that shakes her whole body and shakes it right back into the shape of a black overo filly. Iron follows suit, shifting much quicker now and more smoothly than Wine did, and he’s a bay overo colt though his pattern is that of flames instead of a more natural paint pattern.

    “So what are you mister?” Iron asks, ignoring his sister who sticks her tongue out at him as each of them begins to circle the stallion, curious about his wings which seem to be the only bird-like part of him. “Are you half-bird somehow or just stuck like that?” Wine pipes up, since neither have seen a horse with wings. It’s not that they’re sheltered which is possible, given all the time they spend with their parents in the cavern by the sea or out by the sea itself as just the two of them, content to spar with one another in either shape and giving little thought to much else like the whole big world that waits beyond.

    ooc: they have no tact! lol <3
    #4
    like the sun swallowed up by the earth
    The cubs look up at him with perplexed looks that they share with each other, completely as surprised as he is. Quickly, however, the two panther cubs regroup and answer his question, one obviously still very bruised about the whole situation while the other remains proud, causing a gentle smile to form at the corner of his navy lips. Just like Svedka and Solace, the obvious siblings bicker just as easily as his own children.

    He waits patiently, even though he has never met a shifter before in another form besides their equine one, for he knew that there had to be some magic about these two cubs. He is not disappointed when one of them shifts into a small black and white filly, her giggling causing her to lose control of her panther shape and pops her back into her equine form. Warrick relaxes a bit, glad to know that a mother panther wasn’t lurking around the corner, ready to rip him to shreds for coming too close to her cubs. The thought causes him to pause.

    “Where’s your mom?” he asks curiously, just as the other cub shifts into a bay overo colt, with flames patterned against him in the most unusual way.

    Then he is asked a very simple question that he never thought he would have to answer in his entire life.

    ‘What are you?’

    Warrick’s face twitches into a confused look, tilting his head slightly. “Well I’m a, well – I’m not a bird – I’m, uh…” he grasps for the way he could explain it to them, but he realizes he cannot even explain it himself. “…I guess you could say I’m stuck this way. I have wings, just like you have the power to become a panther. I can’t go back and forth though.” He shrugs slightly, wondering if his explanation only confused them more. “My name is Warrick.”
    Warrick


    @[Iron + Wine]




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)