12-27-2017, 08:13 PM
Merida
from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken
The raven decides to ignore the vehement that she bitterly spewed to him upon greeting, and his lack of offense as well as his ability to stay with her creates a curiosity within her all her own - who is this stranger shifter that has found her within the silence of the forest this night? The fox opens an eye, fixating the burning red of her iris on the talking raven, thumping her tail on the cool stone in thought. “It’s not like I wouldn’t deserve it - a bad omen, I mean,” she admits with a lilt in her voice, opening her other eye and raising her head, situating herself so that she rests on her elbows, dark and slender paws stretched before her like a regal sphinx of the deserts, blinking up at the black-feathered bird with the curious blue eyes. Her sins far outweigh many of the others here in Beqanna, and a bad omen coming to her in the form of a speaking raven - well, that would just make sense. It is odd that she is finding such solace within the little beast, and though perhaps in one precise leap she could tackle the thing from the brittle branches that it perches on, she decides that his company is rather pleasant for the time-being, and she wonders if he knows how lucky he is to have found her in such a solemn, quiet mood.
The cold breeze brushes across her back and stirs the branches on which he sits, and with glistening black wings the raven situates himself, his icy gaze never leaving hers - curious, and perhaps cautious. His answer is what she is looking for, though the word pack causes her hackles to raise (as well as his assumption that she was meant to join them), nose twisting with displeasure as her ears flick backwards; the word is foreign to her - she is a solitary creature and the necessity of a pack is weakness, she has found. She will always be thankful that she had been gifted a fox, not a wolf.
Her fur smoothes and the unpleasant look on her face fades away. “Foxes do not run in packs, despite our shared ancestry with our wolf cousins - a common misconception, my dear raven - I remain because I never pledged allegiance to their cause.” She’s on her haunches now, a soft snort leaving her snout.
“Foxes are known for being tricksters,” she says suddenly, her head tilting and her eyes narrowing slightly as her brow furrows. She pauses, a grin spreading on the darkness of her thin lips as they pull back to reveal her shining teeth. “Maybe I am only here to trick you, little bird; just like you may be here only to be a bad omen.”
@[Dahmer]