03-03-2017, 06:55 PM
Beneath the shrouded cover of the great red trees the air is colder, crisper. It takes the right conditions for snow to break from the clouds and descend upon the upturned branches, just the right amount of humidity mixed with freezing temperatures. Though still early in the season, it seems that this particular winter will be a harsh one for those who linger near Taiga; a light dusting has already begun to trickle through the canopy down to where Circinae lingers. It should bother her, she knows this, because she’s spent her childhood in a place of unbearable heat - but it doesn’t, because she’s also equipped now to deal with things like colder nights. Being a wolf had its advantages after all.
She’s starting to like the feel of her second skin now when she puts it on. There’s a sense of independence and a lack of fear that follow her like wanton dogs when she leaves the comforts of her home and she has Ruan to thank for that. The gift he had given her was hardly commonplace, as far as gifts go, and it was long past time she return the favor. Their “family meeting” had reminded her of that, in all of its awkward glory. While she pads softly through the twist of worn paths she recalls how strange it had been to watch Ruan and Reagan interact (a terribly uncomfortable situation that had drawn unnecessary attention to her) while the rest of them had looked on. The memory leaves a hint of doubt in her mind.
Best to keep her nose to the grindstone and far, no: very far away from her Alpha. She stops, shifting back to the curious green mare she’s always been (albeit a bit fluffier) and raises her numb lips to call out a polite, “Reagan!” The sound bounces across the trunks and soon quiets, but she knows the Queen will hear.
She’s starting to like the feel of her second skin now when she puts it on. There’s a sense of independence and a lack of fear that follow her like wanton dogs when she leaves the comforts of her home and she has Ruan to thank for that. The gift he had given her was hardly commonplace, as far as gifts go, and it was long past time she return the favor. Their “family meeting” had reminded her of that, in all of its awkward glory. While she pads softly through the twist of worn paths she recalls how strange it had been to watch Ruan and Reagan interact (a terribly uncomfortable situation that had drawn unnecessary attention to her) while the rest of them had looked on. The memory leaves a hint of doubt in her mind.
Best to keep her nose to the grindstone and far, no: very far away from her Alpha. She stops, shifting back to the curious green mare she’s always been (albeit a bit fluffier) and raises her numb lips to call out a polite, “Reagan!” The sound bounces across the trunks and soon quiets, but she knows the Queen will hear.
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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@[Reagan] @[Terra]