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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    should have flown south; Daye
    #1

    Winter had come again. It was Mazikeen’s first and she had to say, she did not care for it at all. She was cold all the time, unless she kept moving (which was annoying). She could curl up with her mom, sure, but that was only good occasionally and when they both felt like sleeping. Which was during the day, which wasn’t nearly as cold as the nights. And like her mom, Maze had developed a fondness for the stars and the night, making herself somewhat nocturnal - and therefore awake and grumpy during the coldest times.

    All in all, this season was very inconvenient.

    It was at least appearing to lessen up. Yesterday there had been no snow at all but this evening when she woke from her nap there was more! Falling from the sky like the rude, fluffy flakes they were. Definitely someone was making it snow just to spite her personally.

    Perhaps this was a good time to practice her shape-shifting. The sun was beginning to set, making everything chilly shades of blue and grey. She just couldn't make up her mind on what she wanted to turn into. A snow leopard would keep the chill out for sure, but a bird would give her the ability to fly far away from this nonsense. Stuck in indecision and hoping some inspiration would strike her, she began to wander on as her filly-self, glaring a little up at the sky as she did so but no matter how hard she glared, the flakes just continued to fall.


    image by Reitro


    @[dayé] @[Radar] just in case the tag system doesn't like that fancy e
    Reply
    #2

    when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,

    She cannot be contained and this fact is something the wolf-girl is rather aware of. Sometimes the wolf (though a separate part of her; a piece that is wholly herself yet works in partnership) and the instincts that come with it are much too strong for the equine part of her and she will find herself in the form of a dusty rose wolf more often than not. She is not lost within the shape, not at all; only giving in to the impeccable senses that come with the canine, satisfying both tooth and claw by taking to the cold mist of the forests. The frigid winter air seems to have called to her; wrapping around the thick scruff of the rose-gray of her neck, pants of breath leaving blackened lips in puffs of warm air around her shining black nostrils.

    Padded feet carry the large yet slender wolf through dampness of the freshly fallen snow and bitterly still pine trees. The sun is hidden beneath grey snow clouds as flames filter through the dark canopy, shedding a mystical white frost to linger on the forest floor. A mixture of dirt and snow cling to the underside of her belly and darken the once-ivory of her powerful legs - a disheveled appearance for such a majestic creature, though her fluidity and poise throughout the winding forest made up for that fact.

    Blood has dried to a dark rust on the bottom of her chin and around her snout, nearly as brown as the dark coffee of her inquisitive and intelligent irises that scour the landscape with each bound over fallen tree, smooth boulder, or large root. A sound - one that is minute and insignificant - catches the sensitivity of her ears and the wolf slows her quiet lope to a trot, lifting her head quizzically to sample the stillness of the air around her. Her nose twitches, the coldness of snow pooling across her back and haunches as she stands frozen, listening. Her brow furrowing slightly as the scent remains unfamiliar yet harmless. She huffs, the sound muffled in her closed lips but strong enough to break through her teeth and travel through the quiet, still forest to whatever may lay within the shadows.

    Curious, the wolf picks up a gentle trot towards the scent, the soft snow muffling her steps. 

    What she finds is a young filly as white as the snow that falls from the deep grey skies, with ink black markings across her skin. Daye halts within the shadows for a moment, merely watching her. The wolf’s black nose twitches, her keen sense of smell allowing her to decide that there is another shifter in front of her. 

    The silently wolf comes out of the shadows and begins to follow the white and black filly openly, her head tilted curiously at her.

    Dayé

    where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.



    @[Mazikeen] super rusty so I apologize! But I’m looking forward to them meeting Smile
    Reply
    #3

    There is not enough sense in this ink-marked filly to feel fear when she spots the wolf emerging from the shadows to follow her as she paces. Many of those who she has met in her short life have been other shifters and it is easy for her to assume this canine is no different from any of them.

    What will she do the first time she meets a real predator? Hopefully she’ll be a little older then because there is every chance she’ll attempt to fight her way out of any unsatisfactory situation.

    Now, though, she just continues on for a few more steps just to be sure that this wolf is following her - and then she shifts. It comes a little easier now with the practice she’s been getting (which is good - because she would rather keep her failures to herself). So in place of a filly, she is a young wolf. Still white as the snow except for four black paws and a few hairs on her face. And those eyes, still bright as ever as they shine with orange fire.

    She keeps her colours and markings by accident, but Mazikeen likes how it always turns out that way. Much like her mother who, no matter what form she takes, keeps her midnight blue eyes. And Maze’s eyes are just like her father’s - she would not give them up.

    “Hi.” The girl calls out, stepping towards the wolf a few paces. “You’re not here to eat me, are you?” She asks as a joke - there is no fear in her gaze and a light trace of laughter in her voice. Mazikeen is still learning so she does not know why she is so certain this is another horse in wolf's clothing but the slight wag of her tail makes it very obvious that she does.


    image by Reitro


    @[Dayé]
    Reply
    #4

    when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,

    The wolf huffs curiously as the filly shifts, halting her slow walk to watch the transformation take place. The shift from equine to canine is rather smooth for such a young girl and Dayé flicks her ears back timidly to inspect the now white wolf before her, framed with black. The older wolf lifts her chin, the wetness of her black nose sparkling as it twitches. The girl’s comment allows for her black-lined lips to curl, revealing yellowed fangs as a smile creeps across her dusty-rose face. “Not anymore,” she replies swiftly, flicking her thick tail once before deciding to move closer.

    Dayé comes to stand before the girl, halting squarely with a curious tilt of her head. The brilliant orange of her eyes are stark in comparison to the pale contrast in her fur; she finds them hard to pull her gaze away from. “It was smart to shift,” she murmurs passively, her eyes finally prying away to sweep the rest of her. “What if I was still intent on eating you?” The larger wolf asks this suddenly, her dark eyes flickering back to meet the shining orange of her irises. Dayé’s ears flick back thoughtfully as if debating that choice, looking down at her expectantly. “Merely shifting wouldn’t have helped then.”

    The older wolf lowers her head, the muscles in her haunches tightening as she lowers her body as well, as if ready to pounce. “How good are you with those teeth and claws, little wolf? Can you use them?” She smiles deviously and even in her pouncing position, the slight wag to her tail behind her shows that she does not mean to hurt her but to merely test her, much like Dayé had been at her age with her father and brother. Dayé waits a moment, letting the girl consider and perhaps answer verbally, before leaping forward to dully snap at her - if Dayé’s teeth hit skin or not, it would be fully up to the white wolf. 

    Dayé

    where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.




    @[Mazikeen]
    Reply
    #5

    The “not anymore” response that her question earns elicits a short bark of a laugh from the filly-turned-wolf - she so quickly assumes it was a joke. Hearing the wolf speak, at least, confirms her belief that this is another shifter, which she is delighted to discover, and if there were any guards in place around Mazikeen they vanish as she watches the larger wolf approach.

    Although Mazikeen can take the shape of any animal she wishes, she has not done much (yet) to study their behaviours. It won’t occur to her until later (or perhaps, immediately after this interaction) that it is not enough to just look like the animals. There are movements and instincts and even little ticks that she should and could learn to make her shifts more… realistic.

    Instead of just being a filly standing there in a wolf’s clothing.

    Her bright orange eyes watch the movement of the older horse-wolf, catch the vaguely-threatening words, but she is unfazed. She just blinks and watches as the other wolf moves into a position ready to pounce, and Maze is just utterly captivated.

    She can't even think of something witty to say back. Doesn't have the words to say 'no I don't know how to use them but I sure would like for a pretty wolf like you to teach me'.

    She is full of the bravado of youth, and even when the older wolf snaps at her - Mazikeen does not run away. She flinches a little bit, enough that the snapping jaws of the older wolf grasp her fur instead of her skin.

    For a moment, she is surprised - no one has ever attacked her before - but this feels so much like a game that she recovers quickly. So she does her best to copy the stance the other wolf had made a few moments ago, gathering her strength before she leaps - paws outstretched with their claws and her jaws snapping in a mimic of the attack she just received. There’s no force behind the actions, though - not really. Because she doesn't know how hard to bite, she doesn't know how hard to shove with her large paws. But maybe if she's lucky, this wolf will show her.

    Like a puppy learning from a parent.


    image by Reitro


    @[Dayé]
    Reply
    #6

    when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,

    She enjoys watching the young wolf’s reactions to her boldness; something that Dayé has never shied away from. The two were not even properly introduced yet, however the older wolf found it the perfect time for a lesson. She had always found herself drawn to other shifters, eager to fall into place beside them and mark them as kin, much like she is doing now to the white and black wolf before her. The other almost didn’t have a choice in the matter - Dayé allows her wolf’s instinctive pull to guide her as she ‘plays’ with the other, intent on teaching her the true wolf spirit.

    The girl is not expecting an attack, Dayé quickly notices, as she quietly peers up at her with an excited smile, but even then, she does not shy away. Dayé’s teeth clasp on the soft white fur around her neck, where it naturally grows thick for protection. A slight pinch would be all the young girl would feel before Dayé releases her, leaping backward and lowering her dusty rose head back to the earth, snarling from below. Without any words from Dayé, the white wolf mimics her posture and then leaps towards her.

    She’s eager - which causes a breathless smile to appear on Dayé’s face. The larger wolf allows her to make contact though, of course, it does little to actually affect her. Her young paws press into her - claws ready but uncertain - and Dayé rolls onto her side, taking the white and black wolf with her. Using her hind legs, the rose-colored wolf pushes the other away from her (not hard enough to hurt her ribs, but enough to understand the damage that could have been done with full power), and leaps back to her feet.

    “Good,” Dayé tells her, “stay low.” The older wolf demonstrates, bending so that she hovers above the ground. “Your goal is always to go for the underside of the neck.” Dayé snakes her head forward and snaps just below her throat, showing how attacking from beneath will give a better angle. “And never expose yours.” The breathless grin on her face stretches wide as she lifts her head and takes a couple of steps back, allowing the wolf girl to resettle and try again. 

    “Move quick enough to where I forget to guard mine - that is how you’ll win.”

    Dayé’s smile ripples into a snarl, growling as she invites the girl to attack her again.

    Dayé

    where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.




    @[Mazikeen]
    I couldn't wait to reply! Smile
    Reply
    #7

    It is a surprise to Mazikeen how flexible she is as a wolf, and how easily she tumbles along with the older shifter. Paws press into her belly and ribs, pushing her away, and Mazikeen continues to learn all the new ways this body can move. There’s a gentleness to the movements and although soon Mazikeen will want to know what it is to use full force, to find out what damage can be done, she appreciates the attentiveness of her teacher.

    There haven’t been many instances in Maze’s life where she has actually paid attention. She’ll listen to her parents, of course, but it’s a little more of an idle action than what she is currently doing with this rose-coloured wolf. She doesn’t even know the name of this other shifter but she’s absolutely captivated. Every single word, every single lesson, is being taken as gospel.

    Sharp orange eyes watch as the older mare demonstrates what she means by going low, and then when she moves forward to snap at the neck area. These are things Mazikeen has never thought about - her horse-brain has always been in control, overriding any hints of instincts that come out in the shifts that she tries.

    The young white wolf nods, her attention rapt on the older wolf, and she is already lowering herself to the ground when there is more space between them. She’s concentrating too much to smile, but she feels the warmth of the expression on the face of her new friend affecting her, encouraging her. The fur on her belly grazes against the ground and though this crouch feels a little awkward, she thinks it is because she is stretching muscles not yet accustomed to being stretched.

    For a moment she considers using another form to aid her speed but decides against it - she is learning from a wolf so she will learn as a wolf.

    Quick as she can (which is not very, but it is an attempt) she darts forward - clumsily keeping a low profile as she does. This form seems to recognize the crouch but again her mind fumbles with it. She launches herself towards the wolf in this fashion, attempting to twist her head low and nudge her nose towards the neck in an imitation of what an attack would be.

    After, when they have separated again, she asks in a thoughtful voice - “Is the neck always the best target, no matter what kind of animal you are fighting?”



    image by Reitro


    @[Dayé]
    Reply
    #8

    when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,

    The dust-colored wolf cannot hide the breathless grin that curls onto her black-lined lips; she didn’t care. Tussling with the young wolf stirs long lost memories - ones of her brother and parents - and even though the reflection of those memories are sad, it only brings about Dayé’s realization of her need for other shifters. Too long had she tried to be a lone hunter and survivor and a simple wrestling match is what it took for that realization to be had.

    The white wolf follows her instructions and Dayé is patient; she remembers when she was just first learning her wolf skin, too. It is clumsy and awkward, but it is good. Dayé allows contact from beneath, the cold snout of the younger wolf pressing into her neck. “Good,” the older wolf encourages with a snap of her jaws, playfully biting at the air between them as they separate. With a huff, Dayé lowers herself to the ground, her forepaws outstretched before her and her hindlegs curled as she relaxes. “You are doing better than you think,” she tells her with a grin, “trust your instincts, always, but make sure you are listening to the right one.”

    Dayé stretches a foreleg out to gently swat at the ivory and onyx wolf, attempting to tap her snout in play. Her brows prick curiously at the younger girl’s question, impressed that she is already thinking about other encounters she might have. Dayé’s face becomes somber for a moment, thoughtful and contemplative. “The jugular is where all life flows in all of us. Cutting off that flow, for any animal, means death.” Her coffee brown eyes deepen with something like concern, a soft snort leaving her black nostrils. “For you, too. So be careful.”

    The rose-colored wolf stretches out fully, her claws scraping at the dirt. “What’s your name, little wolf?”

    Dayé

    where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.




    @[Mazikeen]
    Reply
    #9

    There’s a flush of pride that she likes when she succeeds in pressing her nose to the neck of the older wolf - whether or not she was making it easier on her on purpose did not matter. It served its purpose and she had learned a little more about how to move, how to strike. She is still young enough that she does not totally believe that she will ever have to use these moves - though it makes her feel brave and grown to know them.

    Mazikeen settles herself down on the ground as well and her wolf nose crinkles in amusement after the rose wolf bats at her nose, her orange eyes dancing in growing affection. The encouragements do wonders to embolden her, bolster her confidence. Not that she was particularly lacking in any confidence to begin with, but this is something else - something more. She learned the fundamentals of shifting from her mother and maybe Agetta would have taught her to fight if Mazikeen had asked, but the subject just never came up.

    Now she knows that there is more than just taking on a shape. There are instincts she needs to learn. She just needs to practice more - practice moving in all her shapes and learning whatever she can about how the different animals move, and how they think.

    She still has not discovered a favourite snape to cloak herself with, but her fondness for the wolf is growing and she knows she’ll use this shape again.

    “Mazikeen - or Maze, if you’d like.” Mostly only her family uses her nickname but she doesn't think she'd mind one bit if this wolf would use it too. “What’s yours?”


    image by Reitro


    @[Dayé]
    Reply
    #10

    when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,

    The larger of the canines grins, her thick tail lazily thumping against the ground behind her as she sprawls out before the younger, stretching her forepaws. “Well, it is nice to meet you, Maze.” As she exits her stretch, Dayé’s pink tongue rolls through her sharp teeth, stifling a yawn. She tosses her head, the scruff that lays thick around her neck shimmering in the sunlight.

    “I’m Dayé.” Her black-lined lips curl into an easy and knowing smile, a slight tilt to her head. Mazikeen reminds the older wolf so much of her younger self; eager to learn the ways of the wolf and to really become one with her other skin. Being raised by her lion-mother and wolf-father, Dayé never once felt out of place as a shifter, and despite spending the past few years by herself, meeting this pup has caused a stirring to begin again inside her.

    As much as she hates to admit it, she is desperate for a pack - the loyalty and wildness that comes with it, and her gentle nutmeg eyes flicker with that desire. “Come on,” the wolf says suddenly, lifting herself onto her paws with a fluid movement and a soft grunt. She shakes the dust from her fur, her mischievous gaze on Mazikeen.

    “Where to next?”

    Dayé

    where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.




    @[Mazikeen]
    Feel free to reply if you'd like, but I figured this was a good little wrap up for them both <3
    We'll have to thread them again in the Cove, maybe a hunting trip??
    Reply




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