s t a r l e s s, whisper to me.

Ataxia D'Angelo · 04-29-2012, 04:50 AM

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Word Count → 458 :: creepy child invades your thread

Ataxia was in Seculi form, carrying a basket in her maw that had been 'borrowed' from her mother. It might have been easier to carry while she was two-legged, but she liked the raw power of her halfling form. Her lithe, feminine figure was hidden beneath dense fur and muscle, making her look larger and stronger than she was; something she liked, particularly when she was upset and feeling vulnerable. Such was the case now.

She was ashamed. The girl had lost control of her emotions and left her father's funeral before it had finished - and everyone gathered there had seen it. She was not sure which had bothered her more: the fact that that someone else had seen her weakness, or that she'd insulted her father's memory by leaving early. The former she could do nothing about, but the latter...

The dark hybrid's feet carried her from her mother's home. She fled from the ruins, and skittered across the rocky shoreline. She stopped only when her paws fell upon soft sand. The smell of the ocean filled her nostrils, and she knew she was where she needed to be. Carefully, the girl opened her mouth and set the basket down. The handle had a few perceptible bite marks on it, but was none worse for wear. Now that she was safe, she could shift to a 'weaker' form. Her back legs grew longer. Ataxia's front legs slowly became arms, and her forepaws became hands. The dense mane on her neck became longer, and the silver streaks in her dark fur became more apparent. Her figure became thin and girlish.

Once the transformation was complete, she stood upon her back legs and eyed her surroundings. The ocean, with its familiar and steady rhythm of waves, was crashing against the shore several feet away from her. The low tide had revealed a mass of wet sand, small rocks and a variety of seashells. The latter was purpose, her goal. She had given her father nothing when she had attended the funeral, and now she would fix that. She would find the perfect, most intact shell and place it upon his grave.

The girl picked up her basket, and began her search. Occasionally, she stopped and picked up a shell that while pretty, was ultimately too flawed to place anywhere near her father's grave. Those she would keep either for decoration, or to give to her grieving mother. She kept her eyes lowered, looking at the ground. She was unaware of any large obstacles in her way, or the fact that there was another dark female wandering in her direction. If the older woman was paying the same amount of attention Ataxia was, they might collide with each other.

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