Circinae
In the darkness, Circy loses herself.
Her memories play out as dreams: blossoms of yellow moonlight, spread like a fan over the umber tendrils of Canaan’s hair. Every fine, dark strand illuminated by the halo of shivering light, only to disappear beneath the shadow of her lips as they trailed their way rightfully (intimately) to the apex of his withers. Together again they had plummeted into the sphere of their own universe, created and shaped by gestures once thought clumsy - but this time she knew him better; she had come prepared.
Her dreams twist further: there’s the mesh of juniper skin, velvet to the touch, as it fits the golden shape of his body (Circinae had sighed then, closed her eyes and simply let herself be overcome by desire and the very scent of him) and then she’s moving to work her way around the shadows of his backend. She can’t remember the details, perhaps the trees weren’t quite so blue, or the stars so terribly near, but everything else to her is almost tangible.
The little wolf shifts, but sleeps: In the darkness she almost disappears. Her head, veiled in prussian blue, rises slowly over the sloped muscle of his hindquarters to flash first one, then the other crystal eye to where he’d gazed behind at her in lustful wonder. Her laugh then had been soft, hardly more than a whisper caught in her throat. Circinae had been so hungry for him - she could still taste the way he’d stiffened under every moaning bite, gentle as they were. One at the sweet point of his hip, one where his belly drew up into forbidden secrecy, almost one upon his stifle but - she’d paused, there underneath him, and felt her own legs grow weak…
“Wolf, get up! It’s him!” A voice bays and Circy’s eyes fly open.
It’s hard not to wake with a smile, a quick stretch, even though Jah-Lilah’s tense energy could be felt through her own thick fur. The death of Taiga had been especially hard on Circinae’s newfound mate, especially hard on them all (those who had called the redwoods home) though it seemed that Jah had found sleep less and less friendly through the nights. The shifter had been hard-pressed to find a solution - neither physical or spacial comfort had lessened her heart’s suffering but it was hard (so very, very hard) to be completely drowned in the earth-spirit’s despair when her own thoughts were .. well … so wrapped up in Canaan.
“Ow, Firstly, and secondly: Crevan?” She yawns, glancing to the warmth at her back where her youngest was shaking a demon-sized head and blinking with round, predator’s eyes into the sparking lights. Her copper dame had lit the sky, set it ablaze with jolts of white-hot energy to find the long-evading lover, Canaan. “Your brother?” She asks her son quickly, huffing with the exasperation of a mother when he only rolls his shoulders in response. “He’ll be there.” Crevan barks as she rounds away, nimble little legs winding over one another as Circy slips between Jah-Lilah’s hooves and out the other side.
“Don’t mind me, heart.” The creature croons softly, pressing the dome of her mahogany head to the red witch’s knee. She shifts, grunts softly into the electric night as her color fades and blooms again with the mold of her body. Canaan had taken her as many times as he had wanted and she had needed, each better than the last, but still it could not touch the sphere that she and Jah-Lilah had also crafted together. Separate, yet overlapping and still sometimes there seemed to be a missing link. “We’ll go together. Always together.” She tells the fiery mare with certainty, even as she takes the first step.
In tandem they’re Dryade and Nereid, red on green and simply made for each other. It still amazes the former Taigan how right it feels pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, as natural as birth and death even while they dip into a curve of the nearby channel. The water is hardly upon them before they’re gone, before she flashes back again to shift her eyes and let the reflection signal out to where Crevan hunches in the bushes. A final trip through the fabric of time and then they’re nearly altogether at the River - Canaan, who must be sniffed out still, Jah-Lilah, Crevan, Circinae, and Corvus who, according to her son, would “be there.”
Nearly complete.
“He sounded urgent?” She asks Jah, shaking free a few droplets as the night settles in around them. She can still see clearly, so the shape of her nose transforms and oddly the part-wolf scents the air for that familiar warmth. “Well he’s not far, of course.” Circy comments, fully aware that this was where she and Canaan had promised to meet. The circumstances were just a bit different. Now she takes the lead, drawn with eagerness as every stride lengthens to guide her through the black outcropping of sparse trees. A flick of an ear behind her, Crevan is lagging, perhaps with suspicion, but they’re still making headway.
The teleporter is no companion to patience. Trembling, short of breath, she breaks into canter before materializing on the other side of the silhouetted treeline, midnight locks streaming behind her while her breast rises and falls to the sound of his name, “Canaan!”
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
@[Jah-Lilah] @[Canaan]