Nyxa
“Because the answer to the second question is No.” Nyxa thought ashamedly when the paling stallion stops abruptly. Hod’s initial shock at her searching for Bragi was expected, but she misplaces his concern for her leaving without notice as a ‘this isn’t your battle’ sort of expression.
It wasn’t, anyways. Bragi was not her brother, Crevan and Corvus were and neither of them had either reason to claim her as blood. She can’t atone for her mother’s failings (perhaps they find her guilty regardless) and she’d never ask for anyone else to take up her mantle of finding them again. It wasn’t as if Hod had come to her saying, “I’ve been looking around for Jah-Lilah, while you’re away.”
She felt her guilty conscious grow heavy with regret. Her hooves are working upwards now, crossing over one another to keep her balance as they amble up the inclining shore and the pressure of her worry nearly reaches a boiling point until Hod breaks her from the strange sort of spell. His neck, which had cradled her through long nights and offered distraction on balmy days, drapes across her own to pull her soundly to him. Nyxa, though feeling a jolt of unexpected pleasure at the sudden intensity, doesn’t resist the enveloping warmth of his embrace and chooses instead to seek comfort from it.
They’d both lost people they loved, people they had depended on. That reminder and Hod’s reassuring pressure beside her are all Nyxa needs in order to see just how important their relationship truly was. “Painfully optimistic, but you’re right.” She relents as he pulls away. “Thanks Hod.” The growing mare chimes, her characteristic smile shyly forming over tawny lips. If it was anyone to right her sour mood, it would be Him.
She’d been silly to be so unsure. He cared for her as he always did and though they never spoke of things like love, it was an understood affection. She could love the sea, so certainly she could love Hod. Loving things were all fine and well, there was certainly no difference here. “Certainly none.” The tan mare thinks, her flashing purple eyes roaming unabashedly over his striking face.
“Tell me more about this spice you were catching a hint of.” Nyxa chirps, stretching her nose out to place it firmly against his shoulder. To seek it out she’ll need help and this requires leaning on the crutch of her shifting abilities. Against his shoulder her nose transforms from soft to pointed and eerily wet, her body following to suit. It was still an arduous process, one she was becoming more familiar with. Like trying to piece together a puzzle that you shake up after every turn.
Circinae had often told her to rely on muscle memory for the action. To feel every hair grow, every bone shift or shape. The more she came to recognize these sensations, the easier and quicker her shifts would become. Finishing up, giving a hearty shake of her coat, and ending with,“I’m hoping it’s edible.” The vermilion she-wolf barks, all earlier thoughts of melancholy channeled into food.
Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae
@[Hod]