10-28-2016, 08:06 AM
Pyre had been trapped in a shiftless state for months. Months of this one form, when his memory started with a body that flowed to match his will, his wishes, his every whim. It was the only thing he knew of his identity from before waking on the Mountain. He was a shifter. A dragon. Fire flowed in his veins, and there was a hollow ache in his chest where something else was missing, something he hadn’t quite found a way to name yet. And that little fragment of his identity had been stolen from him just like the rest of it.
Fury and frustration burned through him almost as brightly as the fire had so briefly. Months, and still no clue. All he had was the shape he was stuck in, garish yellow and white splashing across his drafty frame, a female form that felt...incomplete. Not wrong, he’d come to realize that somewhere along the line. Not wrong, but not entirely right. And that not right grated like claws screeching along slate, an itch beneath his skin, a restless dissatisfaction he couldn’t shake.
Once again, he prowled the Meadow, his feet desperate to move since they couldn’t shift. With a short, frustrated huff, he shook his head, setting his ridiculous riot of a mane into motion, spilling down his neck and resettling against his skin. And in the middle of the motion, someone caught his eye, a young stallion, barely more than a boy, really. There was something familiar about him, though Pyre couldn’t quite say what. He didn’t think it was the shape of him, the set of his neck, the angle of his shoulder, the weight of his limbs, the line of his back, nothing in his face or his form exactly. But there was something about him…
Pyre’s mismatched eyes narrowed in puzzled curiosity as he studied the boy, stepping slowly closer and walking around to get a look at the kid from a different angle. Still, he couldn’t pinpoint the source of the feeling. As usual. Just a vague feeling of familiarity he should damn well be used to by this point. It seemed like everything caused it, without a hint of explanation. A lilting brogue, a humming croon, a floral scent lingering in the air, so many random sensations made him feel like he should remember something. And sometimes, like now, there was no specific trigger. Just a feeling.
Still. Pyre shrugged, snorted softly again, and figured he might as well introduce himself. “Hey there. I’m...Pyre.” Or it was as close to a name as he had, anyhow. It wasn’t exactly like he’d woken up with his name printed on a convenient little tag on his chest or anything. “This is perhaps a stupid question, but you seem...familiar. Do you know me?”
((Pyre is what Quark named “him”self, he looks just like the description in his profile says, just like the ref that’s also there. Yellow and white tobiano splash mare. Lots of hair. Drafty Gypsy horse. Just doesn’t feel like his body fits, on account of it’s supposed to be shifty and let him be male if he damn well wants to be.))
Fury and frustration burned through him almost as brightly as the fire had so briefly. Months, and still no clue. All he had was the shape he was stuck in, garish yellow and white splashing across his drafty frame, a female form that felt...incomplete. Not wrong, he’d come to realize that somewhere along the line. Not wrong, but not entirely right. And that not right grated like claws screeching along slate, an itch beneath his skin, a restless dissatisfaction he couldn’t shake.
Once again, he prowled the Meadow, his feet desperate to move since they couldn’t shift. With a short, frustrated huff, he shook his head, setting his ridiculous riot of a mane into motion, spilling down his neck and resettling against his skin. And in the middle of the motion, someone caught his eye, a young stallion, barely more than a boy, really. There was something familiar about him, though Pyre couldn’t quite say what. He didn’t think it was the shape of him, the set of his neck, the angle of his shoulder, the weight of his limbs, the line of his back, nothing in his face or his form exactly. But there was something about him…
Pyre’s mismatched eyes narrowed in puzzled curiosity as he studied the boy, stepping slowly closer and walking around to get a look at the kid from a different angle. Still, he couldn’t pinpoint the source of the feeling. As usual. Just a vague feeling of familiarity he should damn well be used to by this point. It seemed like everything caused it, without a hint of explanation. A lilting brogue, a humming croon, a floral scent lingering in the air, so many random sensations made him feel like he should remember something. And sometimes, like now, there was no specific trigger. Just a feeling.
Still. Pyre shrugged, snorted softly again, and figured he might as well introduce himself. “Hey there. I’m...Pyre.” Or it was as close to a name as he had, anyhow. It wasn’t exactly like he’d woken up with his name printed on a convenient little tag on his chest or anything. “This is perhaps a stupid question, but you seem...familiar. Do you know me?”
((Pyre is what Quark named “him”self, he looks just like the description in his profile says, just like the ref that’s also there. Yellow and white tobiano splash mare. Lots of hair. Drafty Gypsy horse. Just doesn’t feel like his body fits, on account of it’s supposed to be shifty and let him be male if he damn well wants to be.))