Jesper
11-06-2018, 11:02 PM
Deserting the desert island was in everyone's best interest. The plague threatened most of the corners of Beqanna. Only a few, remote sections had been spared. Of course, some of the lucky residents possessed magic. Magic that could protect and heal. His grandsire was blessed with such magic; however, Jesper could not ask that of Brennen. Nerine itself was not immune from the wrath of the plague and, the ebony stallion could not justify following him there just because he could reverse the effects of the contagion. And, while Nerine certainly seems more inviting: Leviathons and Krakens united, his own flesh and blood to comfort and love, a peninsula that would be easy to defend, and tolerable weather.
Alas, none of those reasons could persuade him to remain a burden to his grandfather. Jesper knew that Brennen would never consider him a burden. Truth-be-told, Jesper had not contributed anything to the brotherhood, over the past few seasons. Since Lamb had disappeared, the black had felt quite useless. Perhaps, this change was exactly what he needed to ignite his spark.
With that, the jet black stallion set off to the north. The tide was low enough for him to see the sandbar and, Jesper did not hesitate to cross. Despite being a tropical island, winter still reached the white sands and aquamarine waters. The laps of ocean that touched his coronet bands were chilly. The smooth shores were stiff beneath his unshod hooves. The little fluff to his desert bred coat stood on its ends in a desperate attempt to trap air underneath and insulate against the wintry weather. Quad limbs carry lean chassis forward in a steady march as he picks a trail through the fertile, volcanic soil of Tephra. Then, he winds through the charred forest of Taiga. The northerly wind stings his left side as it whips off of the coast and drives the waves against the rocky shore.
Soon enough, the rocky terrain of Nerine comes into focus through the fog and shadows of the redwood forest. A small smile spreads across rubbery labrums as he recognizes the land and tallies his progress. His pace is sustainable and, he neither feels fatigued, nor discouraged. He keeps his expression soft and friendly as he hugs the Nerinian shore, just in case a familiar face presents themself. As he treks north, Jesper feels the icy gusts penetrate his thin blanket of fur. The refined steed clenches his jaw as the biting cold begins to seep into his pores. His loosened muscles and joints continue to move with ease though, he is quickly burning through the heat produced as he moves closer to Icicle Isle. His salmon-lined nostrils grow dry as they warm and humidify each inhale of frosty air. Each exhale is a visible puff of carbon dioxide which expels from his nasal caverns. The tips of his ears become cold as the blood shunts away from his extremities to circulate among the core of his body. Jesper shakes his poll in an effort to send half of his full length mane down both sides of his nape. His tail tucks as tight as it can between his buttocks, which tense as well against the whips of wind.
Jesper's unshod hooves soon land upon frozen rock and, ahead of him, lies his final destination. He pauses on the coast to assess his decision to settle down on the land of ice. Was he really equipped to handle this biting cold all year round? Something inside him sings merrily. Something reassures his subconscious that he is strong enough. As a bonus, his blood family would be right next door. In fact, Icicle Isle may even become a subkingdom of Nerine. It all depends on who claims it and what allegiances they hold currently or, establish once reigning. He considers briefly that Brennen had once named him heir. Jesper was honored though, he never really felt comfortable envisioning himself inheriting his grandfather's legacy. He had no problems with the idea of running his own kingdom; however, he hardly thought of himself as worthy to follow in Brennen's footfalls. Alas, he did not have to face that pressure and, he feels utter relief.
Jesper stands on the northern most tip of the Nerine coast, staring at the ocean sludge before him. The liquid beneath the surface moves slowly as chunks of ice bob and bump into one another. The black closes his long lashes over his aquamarine gaze and forcibly tenses all of his muscular sinew as he plunges into the ice bath. He invests all of his strength into his momentum and presses on despite how numb everywhere feels. Jesper chose the northern most point because this is the shortest distance to wade. He had hoped that there was ocean floor to push off of but, the only thing beneath him is dark, ocean depths. All four limbs pull and push in an effort to get him to the icy coastline. He arrives, breathing heavily and clobbers his front hooves into the crunchy snow for traction. He heaves himself out of the freezing waters and stands, unsteadily. He shakes though, he finds that most of the liquid had already frozen. By now, his muscles are shivering from the exertion and the shock of being submerged in an ice bath. Jesper makes the decision to drop to the ground and roll in the snow, hoping that, at the very least, his plastered down pelt would not remain one solid sheet of ice. The movement seems to be enough to segment the hair at his joints and, with that, Jesper hauls himself back onto his hooves.
Still trembling from head-to-toe, the stallion catches his breath before he browses the landscape. He wastes no time seeking the protection of a nearby cave. He finds one, which seems to be uninhabited, and enters gratefully. He steps inside its mouth and continues until he is just beyond the reach of the salty, arctic winds. There, he lowers to the solid ground once again. His limbs tuck as close to his barrel as possible and, he bends at his shoulder to pull his muzzle into his left elbow. The whistling wind blasts past the entrance to his shelter but, is drowned out by the chattering of his own dentition. The last thing Jesper recalls as he drifts off to sleep is the rocking of his chassis as he shakes uncontrollably.
Jesper cannot be sure how long he slept. He could not tell if it was day or night. Before he even opens his eyes, the male notes that his teeth are no longer chattering and his body is no longer shaking. His chassis is still curled into the tightest possible form though he does not feel nearly as stiff as when he fell asleep. He decides to take in a deep breath to see if he is in the same place. A blast of arctic air enters his lungs while a strange sensation tickles his nostrils. The inhale not only drew in air but, what also felt like soft, dense fur. Perhaps, his head had given way to gravity and, now, rests against his girth. Or, did another animal curl up with him to share in his warmth?
His eyelids flutter open slowly and allow his light blue gaze to adjust to the gentle light. He glances ahead, and first notices that his nose protrudes out rather than down. At the end of his proboscis is a still black but, much pointier, more narrow, snout. Beyond his nose lies the aforementioned soft, but dense, fur. Not recognizing the color as his own, Jesper begins to lift his head away from the unknown creature. As he does so, the male takes in more of his own, changed form. The bushy appendage seems to be attached. His limbs are shorter and smaller with paws, paw pads and toe nails instead of hooves. Above his limbs, a thick blanket of fur billows away from each of his breaths. There is no doubt that this form is his new form. His sides expand and collapse in sync with his increasing respiratory rate. His extremely fluffy tail flicks away at his will and, he consciously wiggles his toes. He felt like himself. His thinker-box contains all of the memories he would expect after one night's sleep. Jesper remembers leaving Ischia the day before and journeying across the north-western coast of Beqanna to reach the barren iceland. He remembers being a grandson of Brennen, a son of Carnage and Bethany. He remembers every torture-filled detail of his captivity in Sylva and, Lamb's captivity and, subsequent, disappearance. He remembers the quest he participated in to earn his bronze streaks (displayed as bronze tips on his fur-lined, triangular ears now). He remembers everything, vividly.
He quickly tries to process what his eyes see and, first thinks of Merida. The first fox whom he had ever encountered. He remembers how curious he was of her similar form. He remembers trying so hard to study and understand how she worked. Next, he finds himself questioning how long this magic resided within him. And, why it chose to present itself now. Whatever the reason, he supposes that this new body is exactly what his subconscious had been trying to tell him. And, for whatever reason that the fairies blessed him with this ability, Jesper could feel his excitement bubbling with what new possibilities lay ahead.
Alas, none of those reasons could persuade him to remain a burden to his grandfather. Jesper knew that Brennen would never consider him a burden. Truth-be-told, Jesper had not contributed anything to the brotherhood, over the past few seasons. Since Lamb had disappeared, the black had felt quite useless. Perhaps, this change was exactly what he needed to ignite his spark.
With that, the jet black stallion set off to the north. The tide was low enough for him to see the sandbar and, Jesper did not hesitate to cross. Despite being a tropical island, winter still reached the white sands and aquamarine waters. The laps of ocean that touched his coronet bands were chilly. The smooth shores were stiff beneath his unshod hooves. The little fluff to his desert bred coat stood on its ends in a desperate attempt to trap air underneath and insulate against the wintry weather. Quad limbs carry lean chassis forward in a steady march as he picks a trail through the fertile, volcanic soil of Tephra. Then, he winds through the charred forest of Taiga. The northerly wind stings his left side as it whips off of the coast and drives the waves against the rocky shore.
Soon enough, the rocky terrain of Nerine comes into focus through the fog and shadows of the redwood forest. A small smile spreads across rubbery labrums as he recognizes the land and tallies his progress. His pace is sustainable and, he neither feels fatigued, nor discouraged. He keeps his expression soft and friendly as he hugs the Nerinian shore, just in case a familiar face presents themself. As he treks north, Jesper feels the icy gusts penetrate his thin blanket of fur. The refined steed clenches his jaw as the biting cold begins to seep into his pores. His loosened muscles and joints continue to move with ease though, he is quickly burning through the heat produced as he moves closer to Icicle Isle. His salmon-lined nostrils grow dry as they warm and humidify each inhale of frosty air. Each exhale is a visible puff of carbon dioxide which expels from his nasal caverns. The tips of his ears become cold as the blood shunts away from his extremities to circulate among the core of his body. Jesper shakes his poll in an effort to send half of his full length mane down both sides of his nape. His tail tucks as tight as it can between his buttocks, which tense as well against the whips of wind.
Jesper's unshod hooves soon land upon frozen rock and, ahead of him, lies his final destination. He pauses on the coast to assess his decision to settle down on the land of ice. Was he really equipped to handle this biting cold all year round? Something inside him sings merrily. Something reassures his subconscious that he is strong enough. As a bonus, his blood family would be right next door. In fact, Icicle Isle may even become a subkingdom of Nerine. It all depends on who claims it and what allegiances they hold currently or, establish once reigning. He considers briefly that Brennen had once named him heir. Jesper was honored though, he never really felt comfortable envisioning himself inheriting his grandfather's legacy. He had no problems with the idea of running his own kingdom; however, he hardly thought of himself as worthy to follow in Brennen's footfalls. Alas, he did not have to face that pressure and, he feels utter relief.
Jesper stands on the northern most tip of the Nerine coast, staring at the ocean sludge before him. The liquid beneath the surface moves slowly as chunks of ice bob and bump into one another. The black closes his long lashes over his aquamarine gaze and forcibly tenses all of his muscular sinew as he plunges into the ice bath. He invests all of his strength into his momentum and presses on despite how numb everywhere feels. Jesper chose the northern most point because this is the shortest distance to wade. He had hoped that there was ocean floor to push off of but, the only thing beneath him is dark, ocean depths. All four limbs pull and push in an effort to get him to the icy coastline. He arrives, breathing heavily and clobbers his front hooves into the crunchy snow for traction. He heaves himself out of the freezing waters and stands, unsteadily. He shakes though, he finds that most of the liquid had already frozen. By now, his muscles are shivering from the exertion and the shock of being submerged in an ice bath. Jesper makes the decision to drop to the ground and roll in the snow, hoping that, at the very least, his plastered down pelt would not remain one solid sheet of ice. The movement seems to be enough to segment the hair at his joints and, with that, Jesper hauls himself back onto his hooves.
Still trembling from head-to-toe, the stallion catches his breath before he browses the landscape. He wastes no time seeking the protection of a nearby cave. He finds one, which seems to be uninhabited, and enters gratefully. He steps inside its mouth and continues until he is just beyond the reach of the salty, arctic winds. There, he lowers to the solid ground once again. His limbs tuck as close to his barrel as possible and, he bends at his shoulder to pull his muzzle into his left elbow. The whistling wind blasts past the entrance to his shelter but, is drowned out by the chattering of his own dentition. The last thing Jesper recalls as he drifts off to sleep is the rocking of his chassis as he shakes uncontrollably.
Jesper cannot be sure how long he slept. He could not tell if it was day or night. Before he even opens his eyes, the male notes that his teeth are no longer chattering and his body is no longer shaking. His chassis is still curled into the tightest possible form though he does not feel nearly as stiff as when he fell asleep. He decides to take in a deep breath to see if he is in the same place. A blast of arctic air enters his lungs while a strange sensation tickles his nostrils. The inhale not only drew in air but, what also felt like soft, dense fur. Perhaps, his head had given way to gravity and, now, rests against his girth. Or, did another animal curl up with him to share in his warmth?
His eyelids flutter open slowly and allow his light blue gaze to adjust to the gentle light. He glances ahead, and first notices that his nose protrudes out rather than down. At the end of his proboscis is a still black but, much pointier, more narrow, snout. Beyond his nose lies the aforementioned soft, but dense, fur. Not recognizing the color as his own, Jesper begins to lift his head away from the unknown creature. As he does so, the male takes in more of his own, changed form. The bushy appendage seems to be attached. His limbs are shorter and smaller with paws, paw pads and toe nails instead of hooves. Above his limbs, a thick blanket of fur billows away from each of his breaths. There is no doubt that this form is his new form. His sides expand and collapse in sync with his increasing respiratory rate. His extremely fluffy tail flicks away at his will and, he consciously wiggles his toes. He felt like himself. His thinker-box contains all of the memories he would expect after one night's sleep. Jesper remembers leaving Ischia the day before and journeying across the north-western coast of Beqanna to reach the barren iceland. He remembers being a grandson of Brennen, a son of Carnage and Bethany. He remembers every torture-filled detail of his captivity in Sylva and, Lamb's captivity and, subsequent, disappearance. He remembers the quest he participated in to earn his bronze streaks (displayed as bronze tips on his fur-lined, triangular ears now). He remembers everything, vividly.
He quickly tries to process what his eyes see and, first thinks of Merida. The first fox whom he had ever encountered. He remembers how curious he was of her similar form. He remembers trying so hard to study and understand how she worked. Next, he finds himself questioning how long this magic resided within him. And, why it chose to present itself now. Whatever the reason, he supposes that this new body is exactly what his subconscious had been trying to tell him. And, for whatever reason that the fairies blessed him with this ability, Jesper could feel his excitement bubbling with what new possibilities lay ahead.
jesper
carnage x bethanie
@[Umani]