Werewolves (RP19) "What the Moon Has to Say"
Quote from Mae on June 4, 2024, 3:03 amThe last light of day was slipping away in a brilliant display of colorful rays. Try saying that three times fast. Tiffany had her chin cocked up at it, her elbows still cupped in her hands. When she detected the advancing presence of the mountain pack's alpha, she turned to face him. Their eyes met, but it was hard to say what could be seen in the gaze between them. His face was shadowed in the fading light, and hers were shadowed by the walls of her prison.
Then came a howl on the wind and the alpha turned away. A chorus of wolf-song went up to meet it.
*****
Timothy answered Chime instinctively. His voice rose immediately in a long, solemn note. It graced the air like the voice of a flute; a welcome, a salute. There was no emotion in it, but that which was solemn and dignified; an ever melodious sound.
It seemed whenever Timothy spoke or sang, the mountain had a voice, for he was always on it and never gone far. When the rest of the pack came from the forest of Middlecrest, it was Timothy's voice which called to them from the mountain. In that sense, it seemed the mountain itself was welcoming Chime back.
Kratos turned his ear toward him and furrowed his brow. There had been another time, he now recalled, when it seemed the mountain spoke...
The recollection gave the alpha pause before he, too, called out to Chime. His voice came up as a command, an inquisition, a gentle but strong request touched by dutiful curiosity. There was much he wished to know, not the least of which was of Chime's wellbeing, but there were other things, too, that few knew about.
****
It was an opportune time for Ulric to reappear from behind the dens. Whatever his state had been prior to Chime's arrival, it was immediately erased; he welcomed the moment with celebration, cupping his hands to his lips and making as thrilled a sound as one ever heard! He howled with less grace than he might have in his secondary form, but it was no less a howl full of elated emotion, and a better one than any average man could make. It was like a cheer, a proclamation of victory, or otherwise a happy war cry. No man on any football team had ever done one better.
****
Tiffany made note of every voice she heard. Her gaze went down as a soft smile came to her lips.
'Enemies? These are kids.' She thought to herself. What beautiful music they made together in their hidden abode among the hills."Caulag... hourm..." Tiffany whispered the word thoughtfully to herself. Her eyes wandered to the young man who had been driven from Pinerich. He now lay with them, a fellow prisoner in the pit.
"Peace Mountain..." she whispered. "The pack of Peace Mountain."Since this morning, Tiffany had been keen to collect clues about the young pack and its alpha. What did she know of them? They did not appear to be related... each of them had a different scent and a different ethnic heritage. They cooperated with each other, and seemed to be loyal, but they were young and imprecise. When Ionone engaged them, their attacks were not strategic enough to denote a deep bond.
Yet, they all obeyed the voice of their leader. Who was he, this Kratos Shragron? He had the mark of the Svalnaglas, and bore the name of the Alpha. Now, she had seen him also wear a blood-red mantle, such as Talkane and the betas wore. Could there be any deception in this? All evidence declared it, that somehow this young leader was of the blood of Mavros Yios; the revered forefather of the Svalnaglas clan; he who walked the mountains alone and made a haven for the race where there was none. If this was true, then Tiffany could not fight this werewolf leader even if she dared to do so.
The last light of day was slipping away in a brilliant display of colorful rays. Try saying that three times fast. Tiffany had her chin cocked up at it, her elbows still cupped in her hands. When she detected the advancing presence of the mountain pack's alpha, she turned to face him. Their eyes met, but it was hard to say what could be seen in the gaze between them. His face was shadowed in the fading light, and hers were shadowed by the walls of her prison.
Then came a howl on the wind and the alpha turned away. A chorus of wolf-song went up to meet it.
*****
Timothy answered Chime instinctively. His voice rose immediately in a long, solemn note. It graced the air like the voice of a flute; a welcome, a salute. There was no emotion in it, but that which was solemn and dignified; an ever melodious sound.
It seemed whenever Timothy spoke or sang, the mountain had a voice, for he was always on it and never gone far. When the rest of the pack came from the forest of Middlecrest, it was Timothy's voice which called to them from the mountain. In that sense, it seemed the mountain itself was welcoming Chime back.
Kratos turned his ear toward him and furrowed his brow. There had been another time, he now recalled, when it seemed the mountain spoke...
The recollection gave the alpha pause before he, too, called out to Chime. His voice came up as a command, an inquisition, a gentle but strong request touched by dutiful curiosity. There was much he wished to know, not the least of which was of Chime's wellbeing, but there were other things, too, that few knew about.
****
It was an opportune time for Ulric to reappear from behind the dens. Whatever his state had been prior to Chime's arrival, it was immediately erased; he welcomed the moment with celebration, cupping his hands to his lips and making as thrilled a sound as one ever heard! He howled with less grace than he might have in his secondary form, but it was no less a howl full of elated emotion, and a better one than any average man could make. It was like a cheer, a proclamation of victory, or otherwise a happy war cry. No man on any football team had ever done one better.
****
Tiffany made note of every voice she heard. Her gaze went down as a soft smile came to her lips.
'Enemies? These are kids.' She thought to herself. What beautiful music they made together in their hidden abode among the hills.
"Caulag... hourm..." Tiffany whispered the word thoughtfully to herself. Her eyes wandered to the young man who had been driven from Pinerich. He now lay with them, a fellow prisoner in the pit.
"Peace Mountain..." she whispered. "The pack of Peace Mountain."
Since this morning, Tiffany had been keen to collect clues about the young pack and its alpha. What did she know of them? They did not appear to be related... each of them had a different scent and a different ethnic heritage. They cooperated with each other, and seemed to be loyal, but they were young and imprecise. When Ionone engaged them, their attacks were not strategic enough to denote a deep bond.
Yet, they all obeyed the voice of their leader. Who was he, this Kratos Shragron? He had the mark of the Svalnaglas, and bore the name of the Alpha. Now, she had seen him also wear a blood-red mantle, such as Talkane and the betas wore. Could there be any deception in this? All evidence declared it, that somehow this young leader was of the blood of Mavros Yios; the revered forefather of the Svalnaglas clan; he who walked the mountains alone and made a haven for the race where there was none. If this was true, then Tiffany could not fight this werewolf leader even if she dared to do so.
Quote from Indy on June 4, 2024, 6:56 amMany times the alpha had come to regard the pit, and many times he would have found the kitsune's furthest from his. She remained like the shadows on the walls, hardly present unless sought for. She revealed nothing of herself. Truly, the sight of a kitsune gracing his pit was gift in itself - for indeed never had one been so easily subdued.
Though her exterior showed no more expression than the face of a stone, her inner world turned. Not for the first time that day, did she wonder why she had let her weakness betray her. Had it been her brothers, her father, her grandfather - no, there would be no kitsune in this pit, only a trail of blood by which to find her had the survivors dared it. Yet it was compassion that had stayed her from the final stroke - a virtue in the world of men, but no less than her undoing in the lawless world of nature by which she lived.
She was not strong enough to wield such a weakness. No training would compensate her muscles around it. A kitsune must eliminate all that stood in their way, or else allow themselves to be eliminated in turn. There was no tolerance for mercy, neither by her hand nor her captors’.
What did they wait for? Why did the alpha taunt them so? He had won and she had relented, anticipating their demise. He allowed them to live, despite revealing more himself and his pack. He allowed them to live, implying himself a saddist the longer the affair drew out. For indeed they could not live, knowing what they did know. Perhaps he was worse than a saddist. He was one of those who thought themselves above the rest, who thought themselves strong enough to bear the mercy that would indeed one day undo them... Just as she, he was in a pit of his own making.
But would he perhaps be strong enough to bear it?
Many times the alpha had come to regard the pit, and many times he would have found the kitsune's furthest from his. She remained like the shadows on the walls, hardly present unless sought for. She revealed nothing of herself. Truly, the sight of a kitsune gracing his pit was gift in itself - for indeed never had one been so easily subdued.
Though her exterior showed no more expression than the face of a stone, her inner world turned. Not for the first time that day, did she wonder why she had let her weakness betray her. Had it been her brothers, her father, her grandfather - no, there would be no kitsune in this pit, only a trail of blood by which to find her had the survivors dared it. Yet it was compassion that had stayed her from the final stroke - a virtue in the world of men, but no less than her undoing in the lawless world of nature by which she lived.
She was not strong enough to wield such a weakness. No training would compensate her muscles around it. A kitsune must eliminate all that stood in their way, or else allow themselves to be eliminated in turn. There was no tolerance for mercy, neither by her hand nor her captors’.
What did they wait for? Why did the alpha taunt them so? He had won and she had relented, anticipating their demise. He allowed them to live, despite revealing more himself and his pack. He allowed them to live, implying himself a saddist the longer the affair drew out. For indeed they could not live, knowing what they did know. Perhaps he was worse than a saddist. He was one of those who thought themselves above the rest, who thought themselves strong enough to bear the mercy that would indeed one day undo them... Just as she, he was in a pit of his own making.
But would he perhaps be strong enough to bear it?
Quote from Adriana on June 4, 2024, 11:14 amLiam gave pause in his step and listened to the songs that the pack members gave to the sky.
It was a joyous harmony, full of anticipation, excitement and longing. A lost member was coming home.
He smiled to himself, and recalled the same tune sung each year, called out by the women and children as the men returned from their hunt. And though the volume could not compare to his fathers pack, the message was the same.
Liam looked back at the scout and wondered if she, too, would join in the song. She had not yet taken her second skin, and so did Liam refrain out of respect. Yet the hours were numbered; it would not be much longer before the choice was made for them.
There was one call he did not hear among the voices of the others...
***
Logan heard the songs, and though further off here, they collected beautifully in the mouth of the white stone before fading into the night. While she, too, was glad for Chime’s return, she did not join them in their melody, instead admiring it in silence.
Even though she had proclaimed earlier that day to Toby that they would “shake the stars with their howls”, she discounted herself among those voices. Hers was a practical and low tune, and it did not please her to muddy the joyous songs with it.
The way she had known prior to the Calagathorm was thoroughly without song, dance or music-for joyless people do not sing or dance. So her talents were honed in quiet things, and here among the pack she used her call sparingly-only twice in seven months.
The day had been long, and the night was deemed well for listening and observing. Collecting her things, she would soon set off back down the mountain, but there was no urgency in her journey; unless a threat or command presented itself prior to her return, she dutifully intended to circle with a wide girth around the innermost territory, before rejoining the others later in the morning.
Liam gave pause in his step and listened to the songs that the pack members gave to the sky.
It was a joyous harmony, full of anticipation, excitement and longing. A lost member was coming home.
He smiled to himself, and recalled the same tune sung each year, called out by the women and children as the men returned from their hunt. And though the volume could not compare to his fathers pack, the message was the same.
Liam looked back at the scout and wondered if she, too, would join in the song. She had not yet taken her second skin, and so did Liam refrain out of respect. Yet the hours were numbered; it would not be much longer before the choice was made for them.
There was one call he did not hear among the voices of the others...
***
Logan heard the songs, and though further off here, they collected beautifully in the mouth of the white stone before fading into the night. While she, too, was glad for Chime’s return, she did not join them in their melody, instead admiring it in silence.
Even though she had proclaimed earlier that day to Toby that they would “shake the stars with their howls”, she discounted herself among those voices. Hers was a practical and low tune, and it did not please her to muddy the joyous songs with it.
The way she had known prior to the Calagathorm was thoroughly without song, dance or music-for joyless people do not sing or dance. So her talents were honed in quiet things, and here among the pack she used her call sparingly-only twice in seven months.
The day had been long, and the night was deemed well for listening and observing. Collecting her things, she would soon set off back down the mountain, but there was no urgency in her journey; unless a threat or command presented itself prior to her return, she dutifully intended to circle with a wide girth around the innermost territory, before rejoining the others later in the morning.
Quote from Adriana on June 4, 2024, 12:34 pmBianca paused to listen to the others, catching her breath. Even Timothy joined in-she hadn't expected it, but in hindsight she should have. After all, Timothy was nothing if not a wolf in every sense.
Ulric, too, emerged and gave his own call-which was impressive to hear in his human form.
Where had he been? It didn't matter.
'Chime and Ulric would make a cute couple.'
She thought, and then felt puzzled about it. Hadn't she agreed to go on (what she assumed was) a date with Ulric earlier? However, when she considered it a little more, it made sense.
After all, Ulric was a bleeding heart empath. Chime had a subtle confidence, and she was grounded. Both were mediators because of their ability to communicate and way with words, and both seemed to readily get along with anyone.
'I could pretend to invite Theo along, and invite Chime along, and say it's a double date. Except Theo won't be coming-I could say he forgot-and I'll just say I don't feel good, but that Chime really wanted to go.'
There was no doubt that they'd hit it off, and Bianca could go back to just being friends with Ulric without letting him down.
Nevermind the Svalnaglas in the pit, and the full moon, or the rapidly approaching stranger. In Bianca's head, she was busy setting up blind dates (which in her mind, was the most dignified way of avoiding the encounter) and having imaginary conversations.
In the meantime, she just had to be casual. 'Don't string him on, but try not to be mean, either.'
There was a good chance he had just asked to cheer her up--that was pretty in line with his character--and she felt silly for reading as far into it as she did. But it did bring up some important questions that she had needed to ask herself, so it wasn't a total loss.
Now, outwardly she shook the dust off her coat, and, not wanting to engage anyone in the pack, she went over the pit and moved around it closer to Tiffany.
"Hey," she said, softly. "Will you be able to transform in that outfit?" she asked, concerned. The last thing the woman needed was to have to transform in a pit surrounded by staring strangers, and not have anything proper to wear.
Bianca paused to listen to the others, catching her breath. Even Timothy joined in-she hadn't expected it, but in hindsight she should have. After all, Timothy was nothing if not a wolf in every sense.
Ulric, too, emerged and gave his own call-which was impressive to hear in his human form.
Where had he been? It didn't matter.
'Chime and Ulric would make a cute couple.'
She thought, and then felt puzzled about it. Hadn't she agreed to go on (what she assumed was) a date with Ulric earlier? However, when she considered it a little more, it made sense.
After all, Ulric was a bleeding heart empath. Chime had a subtle confidence, and she was grounded. Both were mediators because of their ability to communicate and way with words, and both seemed to readily get along with anyone.
'I could pretend to invite Theo along, and invite Chime along, and say it's a double date. Except Theo won't be coming-I could say he forgot-and I'll just say I don't feel good, but that Chime really wanted to go.'
There was no doubt that they'd hit it off, and Bianca could go back to just being friends with Ulric without letting him down.
Nevermind the Svalnaglas in the pit, and the full moon, or the rapidly approaching stranger. In Bianca's head, she was busy setting up blind dates (which in her mind, was the most dignified way of avoiding the encounter) and having imaginary conversations.
In the meantime, she just had to be casual. 'Don't string him on, but try not to be mean, either.'
There was a good chance he had just asked to cheer her up--that was pretty in line with his character--and she felt silly for reading as far into it as she did. But it did bring up some important questions that she had needed to ask herself, so it wasn't a total loss.
Now, outwardly she shook the dust off her coat, and, not wanting to engage anyone in the pack, she went over the pit and moved around it closer to Tiffany.
"Hey," she said, softly. "Will you be able to transform in that outfit?" she asked, concerned. The last thing the woman needed was to have to transform in a pit surrounded by staring strangers, and not have anything proper to wear.
Quote from Mae on June 7, 2024, 11:12 pmThere was that pretty little girl again, this time she wore a blond coat, all ready for the full moon.
Tiffany's dark eyes smiled up at the girl. "Yeah, sugar. Don't you worry about me," she said pleasantly. Then she tossed her wild curls like it were a casual Tuesday.
It's funny how much kindness speaks without words. In the world Tiffany came from, it spoke of innocence. Some would call it naive. Like most virtues, it wouldn't last long in that world. Some charming con would surely play up to it and rob it of all its beauty. In its place, ashes would give birth to something else, something stone-hard or hot and spreading as the flaming end of a torch. Tiffany ought to know, she'd seen it happen often enough. But here, in the mountains, surrounded by friends that would be called family, innocence was safe to be itself, and thus offer kindness to those who didn't deserve it.
Tiffany was hesitant to let it pass by. Innocence was the treasure of the wise, safeguarded and enjoyed only vicariously after one is removed from it; love, admiration, kindness, all it gives freely. For Tiffany, keeping innocence safe meant keeping her distance, but it could tempt even the most self-loathing person alive. That is to say, Tiffany knew better than to make friends with the girl, even if it was to her advantage, and still that pretty little face begged to be shown some kindness in return and Tiffany couldn't refuse it.
Tiffany gave a careful glance in the direction of the pack's alpha, and across the rim of the enclosure. No one else seemed to be looking down.
"I love your coat," she said, softly. "It's a real pretty color."
There was that pretty little girl again, this time she wore a blond coat, all ready for the full moon.
Tiffany's dark eyes smiled up at the girl. "Yeah, sugar. Don't you worry about me," she said pleasantly. Then she tossed her wild curls like it were a casual Tuesday.
It's funny how much kindness speaks without words. In the world Tiffany came from, it spoke of innocence. Some would call it naive. Like most virtues, it wouldn't last long in that world. Some charming con would surely play up to it and rob it of all its beauty. In its place, ashes would give birth to something else, something stone-hard or hot and spreading as the flaming end of a torch. Tiffany ought to know, she'd seen it happen often enough. But here, in the mountains, surrounded by friends that would be called family, innocence was safe to be itself, and thus offer kindness to those who didn't deserve it.
Tiffany was hesitant to let it pass by. Innocence was the treasure of the wise, safeguarded and enjoyed only vicariously after one is removed from it; love, admiration, kindness, all it gives freely. For Tiffany, keeping innocence safe meant keeping her distance, but it could tempt even the most self-loathing person alive. That is to say, Tiffany knew better than to make friends with the girl, even if it was to her advantage, and still that pretty little face begged to be shown some kindness in return and Tiffany couldn't refuse it.
Tiffany gave a careful glance in the direction of the pack's alpha, and across the rim of the enclosure. No one else seemed to be looking down.
"I love your coat," she said, softly. "It's a real pretty color."
Quote from Adriana on June 8, 2024, 8:39 pm"Thank you." Bianca said, without emotion.
Is Tiffany really a terrible person?
Now, Bianca didn't know much about the mafia or gangsters, that is except from the movies, which were boring and violent, and she only watched them the one time because so-and-so who she was kind of interested in insisted she should watch them. So she sat through a two movie marathon and wasn't interested in what's-his-name by the time the marathon was said and done. Besides his terrible taste in movies, he chewed too loudly and kept giving away the parts before they'd even happened.
But if she did learn anything, it was that mobsters were heavyweight, balding Italian-American's with thick accents, with maybe the occasional kind-of-attractive lean Italian man who was still a complete piece of work. She imagined they smelled like alcohol and cigar smoke and had at least ten girlfriends and wives each. They probably played cards most days and pretended to be Catholic on Sundays.
Now, Ulric was also Svalnaglas and neither him nor Tiffany fit the bill. With their pretty features, either one of them could have been an actor or actress.
"You should leave them. Can't you go to another state, start over or something?"
She asked, hopefully, quietly. But something in Tiffany's voice and in her eyes felt long lost and faraway, in spite of all their richness. Like her heart and soul were a million miles down a road and her feet were just trying to catch up to them again. It felt as forlorn as a last goodbye, or as a lofty as a dream of a prayer. Nobody was hopeless, or a lost cause. So Bianca couldn't find the reason why she felt so sad when she looked at Tiffany.
"Thank you." Bianca said, without emotion.
Is Tiffany really a terrible person?
Now, Bianca didn't know much about the mafia or gangsters, that is except from the movies, which were boring and violent, and she only watched them the one time because so-and-so who she was kind of interested in insisted she should watch them. So she sat through a two movie marathon and wasn't interested in what's-his-name by the time the marathon was said and done. Besides his terrible taste in movies, he chewed too loudly and kept giving away the parts before they'd even happened.
But if she did learn anything, it was that mobsters were heavyweight, balding Italian-American's with thick accents, with maybe the occasional kind-of-attractive lean Italian man who was still a complete piece of work. She imagined they smelled like alcohol and cigar smoke and had at least ten girlfriends and wives each. They probably played cards most days and pretended to be Catholic on Sundays.
Now, Ulric was also Svalnaglas and neither him nor Tiffany fit the bill. With their pretty features, either one of them could have been an actor or actress.
"You should leave them. Can't you go to another state, start over or something?"
She asked, hopefully, quietly. But something in Tiffany's voice and in her eyes felt long lost and faraway, in spite of all their richness. Like her heart and soul were a million miles down a road and her feet were just trying to catch up to them again. It felt as forlorn as a last goodbye, or as a lofty as a dream of a prayer. Nobody was hopeless, or a lost cause. So Bianca couldn't find the reason why she felt so sad when she looked at Tiffany.
Quote from Mae on June 10, 2024, 5:09 amThat's another thing about innocence... it asks questions that seem simple but aren't.
Tiffany looked sympathetic.
"It doesn't work that way," she said. "Like I said, sugar, don't worry about me. You have a full night ahead of you."
The thought brought the question, "What kind of moon traditions do you all have in a pack like this?"
That's another thing about innocence... it asks questions that seem simple but aren't.
Tiffany looked sympathetic.
"It doesn't work that way," she said. "Like I said, sugar, don't worry about me. You have a full night ahead of you."
The thought brought the question, "What kind of moon traditions do you all have in a pack like this?"
Quote from Adriana on June 10, 2024, 9:21 amThe response was about as gloomy as Bianca predicted. Her furry ears, still adorned with gold hoops, went back against her head. She wanted to ask a follow up question, but Tiffany moved on from the topic quickly.
"Do you know if this pack has any traditions, Ulric?"
Bianca asked, to which Sabrina responded,
"All in good time. The Calagathorm pack is relatively recent in its birth."
Bianca voiced the same question four months ago. Little did she know then, while they were gathered around the breakfast table chatting (and earlier that day, listening to good music and dancing), that she'd spend the next four full moons all over and high in the mountains. The most recent of which separated the pack from three members, originally, and Chime was only just returning.
"We don't... I mean, everyone kind of does their own thing."
The response was about as gloomy as Bianca predicted. Her furry ears, still adorned with gold hoops, went back against her head. She wanted to ask a follow up question, but Tiffany moved on from the topic quickly.
"Do you know if this pack has any traditions, Ulric?"
Bianca asked, to which Sabrina responded,
"All in good time. The Calagathorm pack is relatively recent in its birth."
Bianca voiced the same question four months ago. Little did she know then, while they were gathered around the breakfast table chatting (and earlier that day, listening to good music and dancing), that she'd spend the next four full moons all over and high in the mountains. The most recent of which separated the pack from three members, originally, and Chime was only just returning.
"We don't... I mean, everyone kind of does their own thing."
Quote from Adriana on June 10, 2024, 12:14 pm"Hahaha!" Liam broke the respectful silence with a hearty laugh. "That was good! It seems tonight is a good night for your pack." he said, turning wholly towards Jackie with a big white grin. He could feel the thrum of the excitement in the air, and the energy that the moon lent them was hard to contain. He wanted to sing, or run, and certainly he desired to take on his second form-but knew he must put his own energy in check before approaching, lest it be misread or convey overconfidence in light of the situation.
He narrowed his brows, still smiling, and took a few deep, calming breaths. One final, heavy sigh and he felt composed again.
"Don't stay in that form on my account." he said, waving a hand at Jackie with an open palm. He could sense her own anticipation, and did not want to hinder her.
"Hahaha!" Liam broke the respectful silence with a hearty laugh. "That was good! It seems tonight is a good night for your pack." he said, turning wholly towards Jackie with a big white grin. He could feel the thrum of the excitement in the air, and the energy that the moon lent them was hard to contain. He wanted to sing, or run, and certainly he desired to take on his second form-but knew he must put his own energy in check before approaching, lest it be misread or convey overconfidence in light of the situation.
He narrowed his brows, still smiling, and took a few deep, calming breaths. One final, heavy sigh and he felt composed again.
"Don't stay in that form on my account." he said, waving a hand at Jackie with an open palm. He could sense her own anticipation, and did not want to hinder her.
Quote from Indy on June 10, 2024, 12:30 pmLike many journeys, the trek home seemed far longer than the journey there. Surely she hadn't spent a small eternity clambering up these slopes and skittering over stones and pebbles. Jackie certainly hadn't recalled such grueling effort - only the exaltation of discovery, of scurrying quickly on her own two legs.
She yearned for the freedom of four legs to bring her home within just a few bounds. Yet while initially she had refused it on a kind of principle, now it was a far more practical matter. She had once accessed that form before the height of the moon - once, even days before. But those had been messy spur-of-the-moment affairs which she was sure she had paid the cost of later. She had never taken the form with intention.
Surely now she could, so close to the moon. It might only be a half-second of effort, as seamless as Sabrina's. Or to the contrary, it might be something bitterly difficult even this close to the moon.
And who would bear witness to the messy struggle?
Right on cue, Liam's voice cut a grating path through her thoughts. Her teeth grit and she stumbled on a stone in her lapse of attention.
"Not all of us are so weak," she tilted her head to glare at him from the corner of her eyes, "Some of us don't have an over-reliance on taking the easy road".
Like many journeys, the trek home seemed far longer than the journey there. Surely she hadn't spent a small eternity clambering up these slopes and skittering over stones and pebbles. Jackie certainly hadn't recalled such grueling effort - only the exaltation of discovery, of scurrying quickly on her own two legs.
She yearned for the freedom of four legs to bring her home within just a few bounds. Yet while initially she had refused it on a kind of principle, now it was a far more practical matter. She had once accessed that form before the height of the moon - once, even days before. But those had been messy spur-of-the-moment affairs which she was sure she had paid the cost of later. She had never taken the form with intention.
Surely now she could, so close to the moon. It might only be a half-second of effort, as seamless as Sabrina's. Or to the contrary, it might be something bitterly difficult even this close to the moon.
And who would bear witness to the messy struggle?
Right on cue, Liam's voice cut a grating path through her thoughts. Her teeth grit and she stumbled on a stone in her lapse of attention.
"Not all of us are so weak," she tilted her head to glare at him from the corner of her eyes, "Some of us don't have an over-reliance on taking the easy road".
