Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Crevan hadn’t noticed the mare at first. He’d turned his back on the world for the safety of the Forest when the long night came onto them all. A moon (the symbol of his life), eclipsed the sun and Crevan stopped walking. His paws steadily came to rest opposite one another, perfectly aligned like the celestial objects suspended above every living thing down below, and then the darkness overcame him, suffocated the light of this world, and jerked his body into a spasm like a doll being violently shaken. He could not comprehend what was happening even as the convulsion wracked his body. He wouldn’t be able to stop it, either.
The moon.
The sun.
The wolf.
The horse.
They had always been separated by the natural order of things, by cycles and rhythms uncontrolled by magical forces. Crevan harbored more than a single body inside of his soul, and though majority of the time he could control shifting from one to another there were instances, instances like eclipses, that tore him asunder from the inside out. Evenstar had called out to him and he had stopped, then convulsed. How could she have known it wasn’t of her doing? How could she have even seen it in the dark, shrouded by the cowl of everlasting night?
“Everything is fine.” He snarled in answer to her question, mistaking her for a terrified animal experiencing the supernatural for (perhaps) the first time in her life. Cowed by the event, like all the others who murmured their worries intensely. “It’ll be gone in a moment.” Crevan muttered.
But, the longer he waited the less sure he was of the answer he’d given her.
The moon did not continue on its path where it belonged, yet hung listless and dark over the strange, dull ring of light behind it. Beqanna was as shrouded as a widow refusing to reveal herself, and the seconds ticked by. She seemed to be in mourning, and the cacophony of strange howls and scattered snarls rising from a darker forest beyond gave life to her soundless banshee wail. Death for them all. Death and Darkness.
The wolf shuddered again, probably unseen, and plunging his head to the ground he squeezed his eyes closed. No warning came; he slipped free from the bonds of his wolfskin with an audible rip that split the creamy pelt open right along the ridge of his spine. What was canine faded away, and the horse sleeping underneath grew up from the withered carcass, blinking his dull eyes and shaking his thick head at the dizzying reaction to nature’s rejection. He stumbled sideways in this unfamiliar body, though it’d been his birth vessel, and looked around blindly.
“Wait… wait!” He said, turning confusion to panic in less than a second. “I can’t see!” Crevan snorted, afraid for the first time in so long. “Help me!” He begged of her, undeserving.
How the mighty fall weak.
@[Evenstar]
@[The Monsters] ruin his Wolf Shifting