"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
Autumn had broken fast, near the end. The first cold snap came to settle heavily over Crevan’s thick coat one night, and not long after that he’d decided to hunt her down. Merida’s absence made it hard to sleep - especially when he’d grown so accustomed to her tiny form shadowing his. (“It couldn’t be that you’re worried about her.” He thought, rising today before dawn,“Couldn’t be.”)
Try as he could to deny it, the idea of her spirited body lying lifeless somewhere haunted him. It built inside his iron chest as guilt, tugged his black-rimmed lips into a steady frown when he tilted his blocky, pale head toward the morning sky to gain his bearings. Was she burrowed safely, sleeping soundly? He pondered, rising to stretch and watch his breath curl into ice rings. Does she … think about me?
The tan wolf shakes his head, a gesture to rid himself of quick-freezing dew and unwanted questions.
Instead the shifter bows to instinct, letting the feel of his magic pull him along in a graceful lope. Something about his immortality was tied to a never-ending healing, (that was the best his one-track mind could fathom) and after being burnt to a crisp by little Solace, Crevan had become keenly aware of it … working on his body. His ample legs would fold and extend beneath him, driving the predator onwards in a steady gait that never ceased. His muscles, torn by exercise and then instantaneously healed by this unique magic never tired.
He could run clear through the morning, into the bright dawn of midday, and come to rest at the banks of Taiga’s river by afternoon without much in the way of exhaustion.
Still, he dunks snout and forehead alike into the frigid water for a gulp or two, and then plunges headlong into the churning stream for a swim. Snaking like some pale, bushy alligator through the river, Crevan scrabbles soon enough onto the opposite shore. Winter’s bite never mattered anymore. Death never bothered him. Only Merida’s death, it would seem - and that was enough to leave him trotting through the forest with a frozen pelt, two dark eyes and one brown nose trained for any hint of his vulpine friend.
Within the silent forest, there is movement beneath the large roots of a tall and formidable oak. Its branches are nearly bare, its leaves scattered around the forest floor in a heap of soft, deep brown. Beneath them, there is a flutter of movement amidst the dying and brittle leaves, and the ice that has formed on each and every one. The frigid air coils tightly around her vulpine form as first her snout and then her entire head emerges from the warmth of her burrow, the air sinking into the thick layers of her blazing orange fur. The sun finds her blinking and bleary eyes, fiery and set alight by the cold morning rays. She stands, bits of broken debris falling from around her shoulders and neck, while the dark stain of dirt holds fast to strands of her fur. The fox snorts gently, lifting her snout into the air and sampling the wind around her - scents of morning dew, dripping ice, and dead branches. She shakes herself, freeing her orange and white fur from random twigs and pieces of crumpled leaves.
Though she is small, more petite (fragile, even), she does not once think about her own life in the way that Crevan does. She is cunning and resourceful, her instincts forcing her to find shelter beneath the warmth of dirt and tree roots, curled beneath the ground where the cold could not reach her. Her thoughts never allowed for her to think anything should happen to Crevan; his large bulk would protect him from all types of weather (and all types of foes).
Her breakfast had been slimy worms within the cold dirt, her nose snuffling through it expertly with quick-digging of her slender paws. Many had dived deeper into the earth, leaving Merida only a choice between near-frozen ones or ones that were already dead. Smacking her lips, she lifts her head and shakes herself once more, the sunlight now more forceful as it attempts to peer through the thickness of the canopy above her. The morning frost is already starting to thaw, melting beneath golden rays and glittering with a solemn radiance.
A sound alerts her, and her whimsical gaze into the sun is cut short by the spritely way she dances away from the open, diving into the dying brush to hide between the brambles. Without the wolf, she is more apt to be sought after as prey, save for when the equines appeared. Her snout twitches, sampling the air as well as reacting to the thought of the black stallion she had met yesterday, wondering if he had come searching for her once more.
The tightness in her chest is relinquished as the form only known as Crevan’s comes into her view. Merida’s head pops up from her hiding place, surprised (but pleasantly) by his presence. She does not wait for him to pass her by, but bounds gracefully into his eyesight with a gentle leap onto his path before him. The fox looks up at him, the frozen behemoth, but only for a moment before she reaches onto her hind legs for the briefest of seconds to lick gently at his mouth. When her forelegs fall back into the damp earth, the white of her tail sashays behind her playfully. She is relaxed now, with the wolf at her side once again.
“It’s too cold for a swim,” she states matter-of-factly, ears falling backward unpleasantly as the taste of frozen ice flickers on her tongue, and sparkles across his massive grey body. He knows better. His eyes are dark, as hers are red, and she can see that there had been something wavering uncertainly beneath his. She did not know that it had been worry for her, of course.
For the longest time he’s suspected it to be an inert power of hers; most of his own abilities came to fruition after maturity had settled. The she-fox is just too spry, too wiry for him to keep up with and so she springs from her hiding place and scurries across his path before he can manage to come to a full stop. The wolf grunts as he digs his claws into the hardened soil, accepting her affectionate lick while simultaneously managing not to step on her.
“I’m never cold for long.” He smirks, as red-orange sparks dance between his teeth. This fire-fang could cough them up a subtle blaze in no time, if he wished, but the effort wasn’t much worth it and he can see from her expression that Merida is wondering about him. Crevan hadn’t gone looking for her ever, if he remembers right. “Has your mothering instinct kicked in?” He chuckles softly, circling her once before flopping down to work on the ice frozen in between his toes.
The male shifter is worried about more things, it would seem.
It hadn’t struck him until just now, and in response his eyes dart to her slender ribs before flicking away again. It seemed only natural that Merida would prefer the company of horses, especially during breeding season - Crevan was pretty sure she had a child once already. He hadn’t wondered much about them splitting apart only to reunite with an extra addition to the party.
He’d never really thought about how that would make him feel, either.
“I think I’m … depressed.” He starts with a sigh, finishing his forepaws and dropping his head to rest on his outstretched legs. The usual bravado he wore was unnecessary with his kin so close again; sharing their lives together had given way to trust - and Crevan trusted Merida implicitly. “You’re my sole source of happiness. What will my life become when you go?” He questions harshly, ears straightening themselves as his brow rises so that he can glance at the slender fox.
“I never consider your comfort. I never consider that there might be someone … something else out there for you.”
The wolf’s jaws widen, revealing terrible teeth as well as the sinister sparks that glow an eerie orange-yellow in the back of his throat, snapping and popping as it bounces between his teeth. Eyebrows dance upwards slightly as she suddenly remembers that he is more than the wild canine that looms before her; she had forgotten about his other abilities for the moment, and finds herself thankful that she will eternally (hopefully) remain on the good side of such a powerful beast. He teases her, but the jab is not in any bit taken personally as her blazing eyes remain on him as he circles her, her black-lined lips rippling in an expression of distaste. She says nothing about his snide comment, and though her sharp teeth are revealed, he is sure to see the mirth dancing in her eyes. She had never been a very good mother, though she is sure that she had tried her best. For a moment her mind conjures a memory of Kuma, the beautiful and sultry daughter that she has long since seen. They had last been together in Loess, and Merida has found no trace of her elsewhere.
Then again, she may have not been trying very hard to find her.
The vision of her daughter dissipates as Crevan flops to the ground with a solid thud, while in the same instant Merida comes to rest on her haunches, her white breast stark against the dimly lit forest. She sits primly, soft fore-paws delicately placed before her as the thickness of her tail curls loosely around their brownish black color. She watches as he mindlessly uses his teeth to pick out the ice from between his paws, looking at him expectantly as her mouth forms a thin line - waiting for their eyes to meet.
Despite her many flaws, the fox-woman has never ending patience for him. She never attempts to pry things from him, because she knows he will always tell her. She only has to wait.
Maybe she could be a good mother, if she really tried.
His confession is followed with a rattling sigh and further questioning himself. He always has though, she thinks gently to herself, before gathering her slender body beneath her paws and moving to lay beside him on the damp earth, the chill of autumn now forgotten near the warmth of his fur. His voice continues - deep, solid, familiar - as she stretches her forelegs before her, tail idly swishing behind her. She does not lower her head as he does, but the bright red of her eyes never waver from the darkness of his eyes or the movement of his mouth.
“Careful, Crevan,” she murmurs to him with a half-hearted smirk, the coldness of her snout pressing gently into the bulk of his massive shoulder to inhale the familiar earthiness that resides in his layers of grey fur, sweet with slowly melting freshwater. “You make it sound as though I’ve already gone.” There is a smile that curls against him, though her voice has become softer, more affectionate. There is a stillness as a pause settles over them, before she feebly whispers: “I’m not gone.”
Something, someone? Where? Who? The idea is ridiculous to her - they are nearly inseparable (as inseparable you can be when it comes to their wolf and fox skins, but kin all the same). How does he not know the impact of her meeting him - in this very forest - years ago? That because of him she is who she is, no longer afraid but proud and confident, sure-footed and resilient? That even in his time in the blackness, she had been waiting solely for his return, simply because she had no purpose without him? She pulls away from him, a quiet whimper vibrating in her chest.
Because you’ve never told him.
The little fox swallows hard at the realization, now forcefully nosing her muzzle into his shoulder to make sure he is listening, huffing gently against his fur. “There is nothing else,”no one else, she says firmly into him, brows furrowing together as the clenching of her teeth hardens her voice, “only you.” She continues to keep her head hidden from him in the mass of his shoulder, the brightness of her eyes staring hard into each fiber of his fur, refusing to meet his gaze.
Soon, the ribs he found so interesting before are nestled alongside him.
It amazes him how quickly she can soothe his prattling mind with a warning. “Careful Crevan,” is all it takes to pull his sly mouth upwards in a wolfish smirk, one that mirrors her own when he tilts a pale cheek to his robust shoulder and finds her half-hidden away in the folds of his downy pelt. His admission has done something to reveal the Merida he likes best; the one who winds up safely beneath his chin and pressed close to his chest some nights, or the one who plants affectionate licks when he least expects it.
“I’m not gone.” She whispers, but he won’t have it. The idea that Merida was forcing herself to apart from horses seemed wholly acceptable. That she would willingly choose Crevan above all others … it seemed unfathomable. He’d been a wolf and then a survivor, just a boy in the woods who’d stumbled across a fox, something of a shadow…
His vermillion companion whines, sparking a heavy silence and concerned look to blaze over him, and the buff-colored wolf watches with rapt attention (and mild surprise) when her face nearly disappears from a bout of shyness. “There is nothing else,” her voice pipes up, rich with chagrin, “only you.”
The male shifter smiles - so hard that the creases of his lips fold into themselves and push up against his high cheekbones. He looks quite the spaz, with a tongue flopped over the edges of his lower jaw and his eyebrows tilted high above his eyes, creasing into his forehead. Shockingly, smugly pleased with how much this admission was making her cringe and yet, loving every second of her personal exposure.
“You love me, don’t you?” He nearly laughs, rumbling still. Pure fire is thrumming wildly through his veins and he doesn’t resist this new high. “Tell me,” He pushes, shifting slightly to lower his head so that he might nudge her with a faded brown nose, “what brought this all on?”
The darkness in his voice (the sadness, the solemnity) is quelled for the time being, replaced with the knowing smirk that she has come to enjoy, rather than being irked at its sight on his black-lined lips. She can tell that he is happier when she is beside him, and though she does not like the idea of needing to be protected, she cannot help how being near to his behemoth form creates a haven for her, knowing that he would never allow anything to happen to her. She did not like being a creature that called out for protecting, but if it is him, she cannot find out why that idea suddenly rests easy in her mind.
Merida is still hidden in the mass of his shoulder, pridefully averting her ember-like gaze and staring almost angrily into the familiarity of his bulk, brow furrowed. She does not see the outrageous grin that she has caused to split across his lips, but of course her admission causes a teasing tone to bellow from his chest, which in turn puts her ears down and backward against the thickness of her neck. He nudges her, the movement creating a ripple of her thin lips to part from her teeth - warning him, but at the same time not forcing him away. There is amusement that hums in the way she growls at him, displeased at where the conversation has brought them to, but all the while enchanted by the way her heart thrums perilously in her tiny chest.
“I do not think we are creatures capable of discussing love,” she tells him chidingly, finally meeting his gaze with burning red irises, the white of her chin showing as she thrusts her snout upwards, teeth bared - defiant in explaining her emotions yet all too easily letting them be seen. Does she even know what love truly means? She couldn’t begin to unravel the idea of it, not the way it had been made to seem in stories and fairytales - but the way they are together, the way they are partners, the way a night is much too cold without the other...maybe.
Maybe she could understand that.
“You’ve brought this on!” Her voice is accusing as it rises from her throat, lids narrowing over her fiery irises. Then, quieter: “You...you did this to me.” She huffs, and almost defeatedly, lowers her head with a soft thump onto her outstretched paws. Her lips still twitch idly, frustrated yet utterly fascinated by the flurry of emotions that are encasing her. She hadn’t meant to tell him anything about love, but she has found herself here anyways. Now she sits beside him, confused as ever.
Is that love?
“You started it. I think you loved me first.” Humor riddles her vibrant eyes as they flicker to meet his, the snarl of her lips curving into a grin. No, there is no way she’s going to admit anything to him without being sure that this feeling - whatever it actually is - is mutual.
Ever resistant, the shrill peal of Merida’s snarl in response to Crevan’s light-hearted nudge could easily be interpreted as a warning. The large wolf gives her a looking-over, a bright flash of amusement sparking in his otherwise dark gaze when she snaps her angular head upwards to defy his declaration on her feelings with a tart response of her own.
They are creatures incapable of discussing love, it would seem.
For once, disbelief and mute anger silence the immortal shifter. Everything in him strains against common sense, urging him to snap back with the improbability of such a statement. They were skin-changers, creatures of another breed and shape … together they were capable of anything, and now this vixen is cowed by things like emotions? It’s unlike her, and the instant rejection nettles the male wolf enough that he jerks upwards from their intimate position in order to slink a few paces away.
Like poisoned darts, Merida’s accusations find purchase between the shifters ribs and Crevan flattens his ears to her. It was hard to understand where such animosity had come from. If there was nothing, no one else … then why not him? Was she more inclined to female companionship, or was he just that repulsive? No, he thinks, prowling back and forth as the memory of Lace’s intrigued eyes took hold of his face, you’re not unseemly.
So what was it, then?
The she-fox speaks up again, and what she says gives him reason to pause and grow still. Around them the calm silence of the Forest seems to dim, a bright light pouring from the canopy above them in darting rays as Crevan tilts his grand head to look at her once more. He watches the way her lips fade into a smile, one that illuminates the uncertain glow in her eyes as they stare each other down. Despite it all, the hot flash of prideful anger in his chest fades and a sigh slips between his pointed teeth. “You stubborn nymph.” He growls, hardly able to stifle the sudden leer that twists his lips.
“Think what you’d like,” He shrugs, nonchalantly, “I doubt that if I -” He says, stopping as if lightning has suddenly struck him dumb. Not like this. He thinks, Not like this …
A sly grin widens his mouth and Crevan twists to face the other shifter, padding slowly ahead until the fine details of her charming face can easily be discerned. “I’ve never seen you as a horse, you know.” He teases, a wicked flame burning at the center of his vision, “I wonder if I’d love you then.”
@[Merida] I don't even care that this thread now spans two seasons
There is a shudder that ripples along her spine as he moves away from the fox, and the once loose smile on her lips fade into nothingness, a furrow of her brow creasing her brilliant and fiery gaze. Merida’s head lifts, lips pressing together thoughtfully as he paces before her. Crevan’s ears flatten against his head, and there is an audible huff that leaves her slender muzzle. Suddenly everything is different and it does not sit well in her, so she rises from her position to stand. “Crevan.” She says his name almost forcefully; she knows his thoughts are barricades in his mind, stirring and whirling and causing him to rile agitatedly before her.
You stubborn nymph.
She does not react save for the soft movement of her brows rising upwards. She takes the hit of his only because it is true. Only because it’s him. Her tail fluffs out behind her, swishing back and forth in a quick fashion, bristling at the callousness in his voice. Her confession, her unclear and stubborn way of telling him (that Crevan being Crevan is what caused her sudden influx of emotion, that he being himself is what brought on the love that she cannot bring herself to say aloud) has not struck a nerve, but has severed an artery.
The fox takes a leap forward to close the gap between them, but he is already there, looking down at her with the familiar fire in his eyes. She meets his gaze fearlessly, staring up into his face with the same pride and stubbornness he had just spoke of. There is no hesitancy in her face as a snarl appears in reaction to his thoughts of her other skin, and quickly her jaws snap together. The reaction is one of anger, though its purpose not to meet his flesh (but maybe it did), but one that she could not control.
His words did what he had meant them to do, however, and the small vulpine brushes past the bulk of his form, teeth bared and ears flattened. The scruff of her neck and shoulders are ridged upwards in agitation; white, hot emotion burns through her and she hates him for it. She halts, not facing him but refusing to leave. To where would she go? To whom? Ah, and there it is again:
Only him.
Merida’s shoulders roll as she smooths her fur, the moment of frustration now gone as the realization of his words - despite their harshness - truly sinks in. Her head turns over her shoulder, fire-lit eyes staring at him boldly. “Perhaps it is you I’d no longer love once I saw your other skin.” The fox snorts softly, turning her entire body to face him. The embarrassment and shyness from their intimate moment previously is gone now, replaced only with the need to prove him wrong. He would still love her in any form - she knows it. Yet, there is the prickling sensation of hesitation in the back of her mind,
(what if you’re the one that’s wrong, Merida?)
(you ruin every relationship you’ve ever touched, like you’re doing now; this is impossible).
But there is that stubborn pride again, and with a scrunching of her black nose she has made her decision. Fur and claws and teeth fall away, her height lengthens and the vibrant orange, brown and white of her fox disappear. Deep obsidian, dark as night and smooth as stone, covers her now. Embers of bright red freckle her shoulders and haunches, their color matched with the tangled mass of scarlet tendrils that are her mane and tail. Eyes - bold and as red as ever against a black background - stare at the wolf, her charcoaled lips pressed into a thin, unamused line.
“Do I meet your expectations? Or is only the fox allowed your affection?” Her voice is unwavering even though she is riddled with uncertainty; she is thankful, for a brief moment, that her equine form does not allow her to whine - she is sure the sound would’ve slipped sneakily through her teeth.
@[Crevan] ME NEITHER
sorry not sorry for replying so quickly
I COULDN'T HELP IT
Appropriately, she bites him; snaps her irritated jaws together and nicks a good piece of his upper lip. He could be mad but Crevan hardly flinches, feeling the wound repair itself in record time while his gaze locks onto the shape of Merida’s animated face. The woman could call his name all she liked - he rather preferred it coming out of her mouth (especially in that tone,) but he’d never budge. Not now, when her coat is bristled on end and she sweeps past him in pompous anger.
The line of his sight only moves along with every black-footed stride she takes, watching with rapt attention though she chooses to ignore his glare. There was something inevitably frustrating and yet teasing about her: it reminded him of giving chase to a wild hare. He knows the familiarity of this hunt, and he can feel the same type of bloodlust surge throughout him when the little she-fox twists a defiant stare in his direction. He thinks, She should know by now how our hunts together end…
And then her mouth opens.
The wolf’s snout curls into a silent snarl, part agitated and part excited. Beneath his pale brows, his eyes have widened and he watches breathlessly for the first sign of her change - wondering all the while if he’s pushed her too far, or too hard.
He forgets all too easily just who’s standing opposite him.
From one skin to another, Merida holds his interest and more. The way her lush, fiery coat fades away - ink spreading across her legs as they transform - and she watches him the whole time; bold, insubordinate … cloaked in embers and framed in dangerous crimson. This state of undress, something that feels so intimate as Crevan meets her gaze and lifts his chin, rouses his other soul to strain against his bones. For once, the stallion is fighting for control.
He chooses not to resist it. Merida is speaking but his ears are closed to her words; the wolf is busy stalking towards her on feet that change as he walks. Stride for stride he matches her skill of shedding one pelt for the other, a dark sense of urgency driving him forwards as their scrutiny of each other deepens. He can’t look away or stop from inching near her once he’s finished, either. Crevan only lurches to a heavy stop and hovers his nose above hers.
She could bite him all she liked.
“How long are you going to stand there and make me look foolish?” The muddy stallion grunts, somewhere low in his throat.
She stands before him, her face turned up at him with a pride that suits her completely, baring herself as intimately as she could imagine, being a shifter. Her nostrils twitch, though all else remains solid and stoic, save for the soft rustle of fiery red tendrils brushing against the sleek ebony of her neck and cheek. The large wolf - somehow larger to her now than when she had been a fox (equine instincts will do that) - stalks towards her almost predatorily, but Merida only inhales deeply and exhales with a sharp snort, burning eyes boring into the familiar irises of Crevan’s. Surprisingly (a thought that had not crossed her mind when she made the decision to shift), the canine begins to fall away from fur and bone, elongating in such a way that makes her wonder if her transformation had been just as beautiful.
The sooty copper of his skin, accented by deep cobalt that frames his face, is a stranger to her. There is a fleeting moment of uncertainty as the now-stallion comes towards her, chin lowering slightly. There is smooth flesh where once layers of fur had lain, and beneath that are thick, corded muscle that quiver with every movement of his shoulders and chest. He comes to a stop before her, tall and large, towering over her with a prowess that is all too familiar. The mare swallows hard, turning her face up slightly to be able to meet his eyes, which she still unflinchingly remains staring into. Their depths are his - bold, primal, predatorial - and the moment of hesitation that had lingered briefly in her mind now fizzles away.
It is still him, whether horse or wolf.
There is no denying it.
His voice - commanding, frustrated - is still his, too. The sound of it shatters the facade of resentment and hard-headedness as the tiniest semblance of a smirk tugs at the corners of her onyx lips, the flames of her eyes sparkling wildly.
“For as long as I can,” she replies, a twitch of her scarlet tail against the ebony of her legs. Merida does not know where the sense of confidence suddenly comes from, only that as they now stand as the same species, that her heart hammers heavily in her chest more so than moments before (and for entirely different reasons).
Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, the mare lifts her face to him. The velveteen of her charcoaled mouth is suddenly against the sharpness of his jawline, tracing the unfamiliarity of this new flesh with slightly trembling lips. She is unable to control the unforeseen urge to explore this new Crevan, without much thought to how he could possibly react to her touch.
