My reunion with Daeryssa—Ryss, as she likes to be called now—was a difficult and emotional one. But it was worth every moment of pain to hold her close again, to see light in eyes that have been dull for so long. And I got to meet my first grandson Tycho officially, instead of sneaking around as an inconspicuous little beetle or watching from the trees as a squirrel or a songbird. None of those have ever been especially favorite shapes of mine, but I was willing to be anything, do anything, to be close by while my baby gave birth. To watch over her and her newborn son, even if she was already quite well-protected by the boy's father.
The man she loves.
He called himself Jack when they first met, and I didn't trust him worth a damn, not with my little girl. Rightfully so at the time, but there is something different about him now. No matter who he is, no matter what he has done, he would do anything to protect my daughter and my grandson. She loves him, and she allows his protection in a way she has refused mine. After the horrors I have seen—and the ones I have wrought—I can't ask for more than the knowledge that no matter what life brings their way, she is safe in his hands.
And they've sure as hell made me a fine grandson. A healthy boy with a brilliant mind that is impenetrable to telepathy. For that gift alone, I would welcome Pazuzu into the family. After what happened to Nocturnal, I wish all of my descendants were so lucky. There's...not darkness exactly, lurking in the depths of Tycho's nearly black eyes, but a curiosity that bypasses empathy and emotion. But I have danced with demons in my day, bathed in blood and tasted madness like wildfire on my lips, and there is nothing in those dark eyes that frightens me.
While I would love nothing more than to spend days bonding with my new grandson, the three of them are a family accustomed to their own company. Especially Tycho has a need for solitude etched into his soul. There will be plenty of time to visit in the future; for now, I take my leave with a hug for my daughter, a gentle touch of my nose to Tycho's shoulder, and a solemn nod to his father.
When I am out of sight, my skin changes. I'm in no mood for the patches of black and white that roam across my skin, a solemn echo of a time when I burned as close to death as I could manage over the loss of my love. I don't want embers and ash on my skin today, not when my family is coming together around me once again. Well, at least pieces of it. Some keep themselves beyond my reach, either unwilling or not yet ready to reconnect. Others are on their own tumultuous path and do not want what little guidance or comfort I might offer.
And still others have fallen, their lives lost in battle with their own inner demons or with the world at large. I miss you, Quan. It is for him that my old favorite blue stallion shape took on silver, cobalt framed in a metallic gleam like armor instead of the black of a night sky laced with silver starlight. Remembering him always wakes a quiet ache in my chest, sorrow for the boy he once was and the man he became. He fought well, my warrior brother. He died with honor and fought on even after death.
Even now, he watches over my strange little angel, the troubled girl who inherited too much of my most difficult gift.
It is for my shining knight that I take on that blue and silver shape, for him and for myself. I haven't worn this skin in so long I barely realized how much I have missed it. My frame broadens, my neck arching and my jaw squaring, echoes of testosterone subtly reshaping my body—and not so subtly, for that matter. Oh right. It's...er, it's been a while since I was male last. Sort of forgot about that. It takes a few strides to adjust to the...er, revised anatomy, but I spent enough time in this shape when I was younger that it doesn't take too long until I feel at home again.
My female shape is home by biology and by circumstance—there was far more room in the Jungle for me as female, especially as I rose in the ranks and even more so when I held the throne. This, though? This is mine by choice and by birthright, a gift from the sire I never knew. I snort, tossing my head as my body settles into shape and itches to move, to rear, to strike at the air with massive hooves, setting the silver feathering my legs to dancing. To leap into motion, charging forward, those hooves pounding the earth in ancient, primal rhythm.
Who am I to deny such a need? So I give in, bellowing a challenge to the world itself as my body moves of its own volition. I could burn this meadow to the ground, leaving fire in the wake of each stride as I run past towering trees and brand new saplings alike. Instead, I revel in the heat building in the expansion and contraction of muscles, the way each step resonates through my whole body, the air trailing cool lingering caresses through my mane and along my skin. How often do I leap fallen logs like that for the sheer joy of experiencing my body in motion? Or rush headlong into the water like this and roll in the river's current just to feel it rushing past me, washing away echoes of the past right along with the dirt and dust and sweat?
Ahhh, I'd forgotten how glorious it can be just to walk upstream through flowing water, eyes half-closed, face upturned to greet the sunlight filtering down through the leaves of the water-loving trees overhanging the banks. Oh, if there are willows ahead, or a waterfall, I might be in paradise. Water still trickles down my skin, dripping from my mane as I walk aimlessly upstream, a contented little smile softening one corner of my mouth. There's one sure way to find out, and nothing to stop me from indulging my curiosity. God, what a fantastic feeling.
The man she loves.
He called himself Jack when they first met, and I didn't trust him worth a damn, not with my little girl. Rightfully so at the time, but there is something different about him now. No matter who he is, no matter what he has done, he would do anything to protect my daughter and my grandson. She loves him, and she allows his protection in a way she has refused mine. After the horrors I have seen—and the ones I have wrought—I can't ask for more than the knowledge that no matter what life brings their way, she is safe in his hands.
And they've sure as hell made me a fine grandson. A healthy boy with a brilliant mind that is impenetrable to telepathy. For that gift alone, I would welcome Pazuzu into the family. After what happened to Nocturnal, I wish all of my descendants were so lucky. There's...not darkness exactly, lurking in the depths of Tycho's nearly black eyes, but a curiosity that bypasses empathy and emotion. But I have danced with demons in my day, bathed in blood and tasted madness like wildfire on my lips, and there is nothing in those dark eyes that frightens me.
While I would love nothing more than to spend days bonding with my new grandson, the three of them are a family accustomed to their own company. Especially Tycho has a need for solitude etched into his soul. There will be plenty of time to visit in the future; for now, I take my leave with a hug for my daughter, a gentle touch of my nose to Tycho's shoulder, and a solemn nod to his father.
When I am out of sight, my skin changes. I'm in no mood for the patches of black and white that roam across my skin, a solemn echo of a time when I burned as close to death as I could manage over the loss of my love. I don't want embers and ash on my skin today, not when my family is coming together around me once again. Well, at least pieces of it. Some keep themselves beyond my reach, either unwilling or not yet ready to reconnect. Others are on their own tumultuous path and do not want what little guidance or comfort I might offer.
And still others have fallen, their lives lost in battle with their own inner demons or with the world at large. I miss you, Quan. It is for him that my old favorite blue stallion shape took on silver, cobalt framed in a metallic gleam like armor instead of the black of a night sky laced with silver starlight. Remembering him always wakes a quiet ache in my chest, sorrow for the boy he once was and the man he became. He fought well, my warrior brother. He died with honor and fought on even after death.
Even now, he watches over my strange little angel, the troubled girl who inherited too much of my most difficult gift.
It is for my shining knight that I take on that blue and silver shape, for him and for myself. I haven't worn this skin in so long I barely realized how much I have missed it. My frame broadens, my neck arching and my jaw squaring, echoes of testosterone subtly reshaping my body—and not so subtly, for that matter. Oh right. It's...er, it's been a while since I was male last. Sort of forgot about that. It takes a few strides to adjust to the...er, revised anatomy, but I spent enough time in this shape when I was younger that it doesn't take too long until I feel at home again.
My female shape is home by biology and by circumstance—there was far more room in the Jungle for me as female, especially as I rose in the ranks and even more so when I held the throne. This, though? This is mine by choice and by birthright, a gift from the sire I never knew. I snort, tossing my head as my body settles into shape and itches to move, to rear, to strike at the air with massive hooves, setting the silver feathering my legs to dancing. To leap into motion, charging forward, those hooves pounding the earth in ancient, primal rhythm.
Who am I to deny such a need? So I give in, bellowing a challenge to the world itself as my body moves of its own volition. I could burn this meadow to the ground, leaving fire in the wake of each stride as I run past towering trees and brand new saplings alike. Instead, I revel in the heat building in the expansion and contraction of muscles, the way each step resonates through my whole body, the air trailing cool lingering caresses through my mane and along my skin. How often do I leap fallen logs like that for the sheer joy of experiencing my body in motion? Or rush headlong into the water like this and roll in the river's current just to feel it rushing past me, washing away echoes of the past right along with the dirt and dust and sweat?
Ahhh, I'd forgotten how glorious it can be just to walk upstream through flowing water, eyes half-closed, face upturned to greet the sunlight filtering down through the leaves of the water-loving trees overhanging the banks. Oh, if there are willows ahead, or a waterfall, I might be in paradise. Water still trickles down my skin, dripping from my mane as I walk aimlessly upstream, a contented little smile softening one corner of my mouth. There's one sure way to find out, and nothing to stop me from indulging my curiosity. God, what a fantastic feeling.
(Reposting as an any thread. <3 Malis can come play with her later.)