11-13-2021, 04:01 PM
She’d closed her eyes, just for a moment, wondering what it might be like to be the water that slipped along her kelpie fins.
A moment later she opens them again, and finds herself lying at the edge of the river, her pale horsehide soaked through and muddy.
“Oops.” she says, very softly. The young girl has not yet mastered shifting into shapes without minds, and in becoming water had lost the trip that carried her from the still waters of her mountain home, down between Taiga and the Mountain, and deposited her here at the edge of the River delta.
This is not the first time she’s done this, and as she pulls herself up onto the bank and shakes the water from her hair, the girl called Myrna sighs loudly. It’s such a long walk back home, and she so desperately wishes she had wings strong enough to carry her in flight. But the dragon like limbs, pale like her hair, with thick supple leather the same deep blue as her eyes, cannot keep her in the air for long.
Instead, she makes her way through the trees on round equine hooves, choosing her natural shape for the long trek back north. She is about halfway through the Forest, keeping always near the water to guide her way north toward home, when she sees something moving through the trees.
Holding her breath, her pale ears flicking between strands of thick white mane, and she searches for a scent. The wind is against her, and she feels her heart begin to pick up speed. She should become something small, she knows, something safe. Instead she finally takes in a long breath, breathing it out even more slowly to calm her nerves.
With a toss of her opalescent horns, the girl continues her trek forward as though she’d not heard anything at all. She’s old enough to look like someone not to mess with, she decides. Though her looks might draw inquisitive eyes, her pointed horns and sharper scowl serves well to keep her unbothered.
@nazghul
A moment later she opens them again, and finds herself lying at the edge of the river, her pale horsehide soaked through and muddy.
“Oops.” she says, very softly. The young girl has not yet mastered shifting into shapes without minds, and in becoming water had lost the trip that carried her from the still waters of her mountain home, down between Taiga and the Mountain, and deposited her here at the edge of the River delta.
This is not the first time she’s done this, and as she pulls herself up onto the bank and shakes the water from her hair, the girl called Myrna sighs loudly. It’s such a long walk back home, and she so desperately wishes she had wings strong enough to carry her in flight. But the dragon like limbs, pale like her hair, with thick supple leather the same deep blue as her eyes, cannot keep her in the air for long.
Instead, she makes her way through the trees on round equine hooves, choosing her natural shape for the long trek back north. She is about halfway through the Forest, keeping always near the water to guide her way north toward home, when she sees something moving through the trees.
Holding her breath, her pale ears flicking between strands of thick white mane, and she searches for a scent. The wind is against her, and she feels her heart begin to pick up speed. She should become something small, she knows, something safe. Instead she finally takes in a long breath, breathing it out even more slowly to calm her nerves.
With a toss of her opalescent horns, the girl continues her trek forward as though she’d not heard anything at all. She’s old enough to look like someone not to mess with, she decides. Though her looks might draw inquisitive eyes, her pointed horns and sharper scowl serves well to keep her unbothered.
@nazghul