i found the antidote. i let the anger go and mother nature found it's place.
now we're compatible, my inner animal, i wanted blood and got a taste.

 Insomuch the interest he held, Nodens was a bizarre thing: a drifting creature whose manifestation altered and changed at will. Akin to breathing he rippled and shivered, the flesh on his body warping and the bones crunchy with wet snaps and popping sounds… muscles bulging and contracting and the breathing stopped as the fur elongated over his body and darkened entirely. Painted an abyssal black the coarse guard hairs hid a grey-mixed undercoat, and his wolfish features seemed larger than the average canine predator: primordial and ancient.

The massive paws left traces on the ground and he carried himself through the brush and trees with his nostrils flaring and scents passing around him. Those black lips pulled back to reveal fangs and sharpened teeth, and the wolfish-golden eyes searched as ears swiveled and his tail flicked behind him with increasing sway as he leaned into turns and movements. Another ripple made his head grow antlers and another brought his legs taller and stilted with cloven hooves and shape like a deer.

A lion’s tail swayed behind him and scales hid in the fur… an amalgamation shape of forms that he has mastered and learned. Patient though, wings formed at his shoulders and he stretched them cautiously… keen to keep them tucked at his back and sides. Pacing as he did he found himself stalled at the sight of the paler creature… at the sight of the starkly whitened woman and her form that seemed both familiar and yet? A strange to him.

Nodens was poignant in how he called out first, studying the ancient mare as the nicker carried between them.

Speaking up as he drew closer, he swept a leg in front of the other and did not hesitate to remain poised and still.  “One might wonder what specter you are,”  he remarked, playful though not out of place.  “Be it banshee, lost soul, or snow given flesh. In regard to your color I mean.”  as if to clarify he spoke and paused, the ears twitching forward and his gaze studying her movements and motions… familiar.

Like Yidhra, she seemed out of time and out of the cycle.

“I am Nodens.” he stated without care for the quickness of introduction.  “Please pardon my interruption, not everyday I encounter someone who seems very interesting.” 

Nodens

i found the antidote. i let the anger go and mother nature found it's place.
now we're compatible, my inner animal, i wanted blood and got a taste.

 It is a question that manifests a shock in him, a wideness of his eyes and a shifting in his posture that comes just as easily as that of his body. With a leg positioned in front of his other he raises a metaphorical eyebrow before chuckling, deeply and perhaps a tad darkly for even his liking; but it conveyed a sense of amusement.  “A fallen God.”  he commented, recalling the stories of Yidhra and her past, of the things she’d spun well into and through his and his siblings’ heads.

“Ancient and old; but not natural to Beqanna. She was born in body somewhere in another world, the child of bloodlines far longer living than even the concept of time. Gifted with wings and power she was stripped and collapsed to the earth; but it was there she found the Stone in a different world and the Stone offered her immortality if she would bring the shards together. She did. Elemmírë… she o’ the Hurricane the Primordium, and eventually the last known Keeper of the Stone.”

He repeats it without reverence, simply a voice of facts, his words nonchalant.  “It killed the world she came from, she caused the apocalypse, and when she freed herself from the bonds of the Stone she found herself here. Carnage opened the heart of Pangea and she was reborn in it: made his child. And I? I am merely the son she brought into this world- child of Yidhra… as she calls herself now, and Ivar.”

Twitching an ear at the names, he shrugs: his body shifting and joints popping as the addendums fall from him and Nodens resumes a normalized form… a body completely equine and painted with large patches of white spattered by grey and brown… snowflaked with a white or gray varnish. His hazel-red eyes focusing on Narcisa.  “A shifter, but, not bound to any form. No matter, I am after all mortal, and the tales of Gods and Legends matter little in a place where magic goes unchecked.”

“What God made you, Narcisa?”  he chuckles: truly curious. 

Nodens