07-17-2016, 04:41 PM
This body of mine has a talent, a rather unexpected one given my fathers and their less than malleable shapes. A quirk of genetics, Dad’s ancestry showing not just in the tiny spiral horn growing in twisted silver and obsidian on my forehead, but also in the delightful ability to shift. I can match the lovely ravens that haunt the depths of our home, waiting to scavenge the carcasses of Grandmother’s kills. I can mold my body into the shape of inconspicuous little songbirds, and though their twittering nature grates on my nerves I can’t deny their usefulness. A sparrow is, after all, a much better spy than a screaming falcon.
Though I do so love the falcon.
A quiet little crow though, that’s still subtle and innocuous but doesn’t chirp so brightly. That feels right. I nod to Halo, who was surprisingly the mastermind behind this little adventure, and she sets off to cause a suitable distraction. I don’t know what she came up with, that devious little imp, but I’ll not hesitate to take eager advantage of the opportunity. I have, after all, given my word. A reconnaissance mission, gathering intelligence about the surrounding vicinity and reporting back to my sisters about what delightful mischief we could get into together.
When there are no eyes on me, I slink quietly toward the shade of a large oak tree and shift into that quiet little crow shape, nearly panting with the effort. It is becoming a familiar form, a favorite that gets a little easier every time my body wears it. Muscles remember how to contract and reform, bones remember what shape to take, and how to hollow out for flight. Organs remember how to rearrange. Still, it is such work.
Good thing Halo’s so good at making noise and drawing attention.
When I am done, and even the stubborn little spiral horn has finally receded and my head is smooth and feathered, I pause a moment to catch my breath. When I can manage it, I launch myself into the air on wings not quite as steady as they will be with a little more practice, and take to the sky.
We agreed that I would go south to explore beyond the river, where it is harder for any of us to sneak away to on foot. Following the plan, I fly over the water, over forest all the way, though the mountains to the left are incredibly tempting. Sharp and craggy and glorious, but I did give my word. South, to the land beyond the river, to see what I can see.
Turn out what I can see is a curious splash of white that seems very out of place. Oh, there’s some on the tops of those mountains too, but this? This is surrounded by greenery, not by jagged rock and sky. Curious, I circle down to land at the edge of the drift, staring at the way it glitters in the light. Shiny. Ohhh, shiny. I peck at it, burying the black of my beak in white and playing with the tiny crystals of ice.
Oh! I. May have gotten slightly distracted by the sparkly pretty snow, and missed the fact that there is someone in the middle of it. Someone covered in those entrancing sparkles himself, even on his thick eyelashes. I tilt my head, my silver-grey eyes going wide with curiosity. A stranger? One little hop forward has me standing in the snow, and I let out a quiet little inquiring caw? Another hop, just a tiny step closer, and the snow whooshes up a little with my movement as my clawed feet pull out, and billows up just a little as I land in it again. Ohhh. I meant to focus on the boy and saying hello and all, I did. But it’s so pretty when the light catches it just so, and I can’t stop myself from rolling in it and wiggling ‘til I’m covered in sparkles myself.
Finally satisfied, I hop over to the boy and let out another quiet little caw? to say hello.
Though I do so love the falcon.
A quiet little crow though, that’s still subtle and innocuous but doesn’t chirp so brightly. That feels right. I nod to Halo, who was surprisingly the mastermind behind this little adventure, and she sets off to cause a suitable distraction. I don’t know what she came up with, that devious little imp, but I’ll not hesitate to take eager advantage of the opportunity. I have, after all, given my word. A reconnaissance mission, gathering intelligence about the surrounding vicinity and reporting back to my sisters about what delightful mischief we could get into together.
When there are no eyes on me, I slink quietly toward the shade of a large oak tree and shift into that quiet little crow shape, nearly panting with the effort. It is becoming a familiar form, a favorite that gets a little easier every time my body wears it. Muscles remember how to contract and reform, bones remember what shape to take, and how to hollow out for flight. Organs remember how to rearrange. Still, it is such work.
Good thing Halo’s so good at making noise and drawing attention.
When I am done, and even the stubborn little spiral horn has finally receded and my head is smooth and feathered, I pause a moment to catch my breath. When I can manage it, I launch myself into the air on wings not quite as steady as they will be with a little more practice, and take to the sky.
We agreed that I would go south to explore beyond the river, where it is harder for any of us to sneak away to on foot. Following the plan, I fly over the water, over forest all the way, though the mountains to the left are incredibly tempting. Sharp and craggy and glorious, but I did give my word. South, to the land beyond the river, to see what I can see.
Turn out what I can see is a curious splash of white that seems very out of place. Oh, there’s some on the tops of those mountains too, but this? This is surrounded by greenery, not by jagged rock and sky. Curious, I circle down to land at the edge of the drift, staring at the way it glitters in the light. Shiny. Ohhh, shiny. I peck at it, burying the black of my beak in white and playing with the tiny crystals of ice.
Oh! I. May have gotten slightly distracted by the sparkly pretty snow, and missed the fact that there is someone in the middle of it. Someone covered in those entrancing sparkles himself, even on his thick eyelashes. I tilt my head, my silver-grey eyes going wide with curiosity. A stranger? One little hop forward has me standing in the snow, and I let out a quiet little inquiring caw? Another hop, just a tiny step closer, and the snow whooshes up a little with my movement as my clawed feet pull out, and billows up just a little as I land in it again. Ohhh. I meant to focus on the boy and saying hello and all, I did. But it’s so pretty when the light catches it just so, and I can’t stop myself from rolling in it and wiggling ‘til I’m covered in sparkles myself.
Finally satisfied, I hop over to the boy and let out another quiet little caw? to say hello.