01-02-2011, 01:34 PM
OOC: LONG! WC: 1009. No need to match - just pushing for SSWM and all. Hopefully it isn't all crap! >_< Thanks in advance for threading with meeeee! PS I plan on having her shift to Optime in thread, if that's all right with you, for length as well as for coolness - I've not written about that yet. 
IC:
It felt absolutely glorious to be in Lupus form again. It was incredibly unlike Saraqael, but she had gone an entire day without shifting back and it made her antsy for in many ways, though she had been born a Luperci, she was still feral. When the seraph wasn't sequestered away in the lonesome darkness of her room, she liked to be in the solitary shadow of the forest instead. Fortunately for her, the Forest of Nod completely surrounded the mansion where she had chosen to take up residence. At first, slipping out the front door, the trees merely peppered the lawn, rising up in all types, shapes, and sizes in a feeble attempt to touch the sky. No, she thought, not to touch the sky but to kiss the sun, as all plants did, coaxing pure light into nutrients and life, a marvel of the living world. The trees only thickened as one went further in, past the mansion, to the southernmost area where a stream – Frosthold, though that name was absent from her vocabulary – wound its way there. Earlier that day she had flown to the complete edge of the forest to extend her slim, bi-colored muzzle from the last tree line, watching the same stream cut a path to some place unknown, an area where she had yet to explore. Perhaps one day she would when she became more comfortable with the place she now called home. As things stood, she felt too vulnerable out in the open, and at her size in Lupus form, an eagle might have thought she made a pretty meal and swooped from the sky to clench the fourteen-pound coyote in its death-dealing claws.
Instead of such a harsh reality, she thanked the stars (who were hiding since it was noon) that no avian shadows crossed the dappled sunlight. Allowed her solitude as she had been all morning and into the afternoon, Saraqael felt calm, peaceful, and even relaxed. Tenseness was natural to the high-strung, young female. Normally it kept her spine rigid straight, jaw clenched, and tail up, but now she languished at the side of a whispering stream. Its music was fair, a sweet, far-away song. The Inferni member heard laughter in it that was soothing. Not only did she listen with her over-sized ears cupped, but Saraqael watched it, gaze unwavering as it sidled against the edges of its bed, not pressing to be free but taking advantage of all its available space. If she stared into a pool of sunlit water, the tributary's belly full of stones showed green and mossy, revealed by the warm light. As a tender of plants, she noticed that where the patches of sunlight rested at midday was a slightly thicker coating of dirty emerald, likely because the sun was at its highest point there and took more time to ascend. Water passed through it at an even pace, taking indistinguishable particles with it. Occasionally a minnow, or even a cluster of them, darted, nipping the surface and leaving tiny trails of bubbles in their pin-thin wakes. She had become almost entirely absorbed in the new world she had discovered which was fortunate because of its limitless wonders.
Boats ferried past with endless varieties of passengers. These drew her attention away from the depths by sheer force of crossing her field of vision. The one most recently passed was fiery orange. Even in its aged state, the tracks of veins stemming from the center were distinguishable and had looked darker. It was spotty with decay but delightfully curled, allowing it to remain afloat. Inside, a collection of snow melt rested, shiny and liquid, unafraid of capsizing since it would only join more of its own stuff. The leaf, she imagined, was resigned to whatever fate the wind would choose for it, whether it be whisked back to dry land to form detritus for bacteria to feast upon or make a nose dive to the bottom of the stream to melt back into the earth there. The vessel rocked as it was carried over miniature rapids, places in the pebbly bottom that sucked, pushed, and pulled the water into small currents. Saraqael kept her eyes glued to it until it was out of view, safely away, and in her mind, it would journey forever.
A yawn broke her vacant, blank expression. Her entire face peeled back into a yawing pink cavern with ivory stalactites and a sand-paper squiggle of a tongue. Her large, almond eyes crinkled to black slits and a squeak, high-pitched and brief, exited near the end, just before her maw snapped shut. Saraqael blinked, lilac and teal sealed by a film of saline that added extra shine to the colored marbles. All her languishing had made her sleepy and she was nearly drunk enough on it to actually take a nap. Nearly. Trees were no substitute for doors, thick wood and concrete walls, or even the husk of a hut or cabin. She longed for the free wildness of the outside desperately and went bonkers without it but growing up in confinement had taken its toll. Being a coyote, a creature thought to be dirty, hated, and feared, did not help. The sentiment was so ingrained in her breed that she felt it, or thought she did, despite never having been the victim of interspecies mistreatment herself. Her parents had somehow instilled thoughts and emotions not belonging to or experienced by her inside of her, forming a trait they likely saw as a blessing of protection. They had meant it to be caution but it had mutated into an out-of-control curse. Trepidation and suspicion were at times more powerful than armies, could defeat swaths of men without their enemies having to lift a finger towards their lives. Today, however, the tiny canine had vanquished it, even if only for a little while. It was a hard-earned victory but she had won herself the opportunity to lay untroubled in the Forest of Nod, a prize well worth the fight.
IC:
It felt absolutely glorious to be in Lupus form again. It was incredibly unlike Saraqael, but she had gone an entire day without shifting back and it made her antsy for in many ways, though she had been born a Luperci, she was still feral. When the seraph wasn't sequestered away in the lonesome darkness of her room, she liked to be in the solitary shadow of the forest instead. Fortunately for her, the Forest of Nod completely surrounded the mansion where she had chosen to take up residence. At first, slipping out the front door, the trees merely peppered the lawn, rising up in all types, shapes, and sizes in a feeble attempt to touch the sky. No, she thought, not to touch the sky but to kiss the sun, as all plants did, coaxing pure light into nutrients and life, a marvel of the living world. The trees only thickened as one went further in, past the mansion, to the southernmost area where a stream – Frosthold, though that name was absent from her vocabulary – wound its way there. Earlier that day she had flown to the complete edge of the forest to extend her slim, bi-colored muzzle from the last tree line, watching the same stream cut a path to some place unknown, an area where she had yet to explore. Perhaps one day she would when she became more comfortable with the place she now called home. As things stood, she felt too vulnerable out in the open, and at her size in Lupus form, an eagle might have thought she made a pretty meal and swooped from the sky to clench the fourteen-pound coyote in its death-dealing claws.
Instead of such a harsh reality, she thanked the stars (who were hiding since it was noon) that no avian shadows crossed the dappled sunlight. Allowed her solitude as she had been all morning and into the afternoon, Saraqael felt calm, peaceful, and even relaxed. Tenseness was natural to the high-strung, young female. Normally it kept her spine rigid straight, jaw clenched, and tail up, but now she languished at the side of a whispering stream. Its music was fair, a sweet, far-away song. The Inferni member heard laughter in it that was soothing. Not only did she listen with her over-sized ears cupped, but Saraqael watched it, gaze unwavering as it sidled against the edges of its bed, not pressing to be free but taking advantage of all its available space. If she stared into a pool of sunlit water, the tributary's belly full of stones showed green and mossy, revealed by the warm light. As a tender of plants, she noticed that where the patches of sunlight rested at midday was a slightly thicker coating of dirty emerald, likely because the sun was at its highest point there and took more time to ascend. Water passed through it at an even pace, taking indistinguishable particles with it. Occasionally a minnow, or even a cluster of them, darted, nipping the surface and leaving tiny trails of bubbles in their pin-thin wakes. She had become almost entirely absorbed in the new world she had discovered which was fortunate because of its limitless wonders.
Boats ferried past with endless varieties of passengers. These drew her attention away from the depths by sheer force of crossing her field of vision. The one most recently passed was fiery orange. Even in its aged state, the tracks of veins stemming from the center were distinguishable and had looked darker. It was spotty with decay but delightfully curled, allowing it to remain afloat. Inside, a collection of snow melt rested, shiny and liquid, unafraid of capsizing since it would only join more of its own stuff. The leaf, she imagined, was resigned to whatever fate the wind would choose for it, whether it be whisked back to dry land to form detritus for bacteria to feast upon or make a nose dive to the bottom of the stream to melt back into the earth there. The vessel rocked as it was carried over miniature rapids, places in the pebbly bottom that sucked, pushed, and pulled the water into small currents. Saraqael kept her eyes glued to it until it was out of view, safely away, and in her mind, it would journey forever.
A yawn broke her vacant, blank expression. Her entire face peeled back into a yawing pink cavern with ivory stalactites and a sand-paper squiggle of a tongue. Her large, almond eyes crinkled to black slits and a squeak, high-pitched and brief, exited near the end, just before her maw snapped shut. Saraqael blinked, lilac and teal sealed by a film of saline that added extra shine to the colored marbles. All her languishing had made her sleepy and she was nearly drunk enough on it to actually take a nap. Nearly. Trees were no substitute for doors, thick wood and concrete walls, or even the husk of a hut or cabin. She longed for the free wildness of the outside desperately and went bonkers without it but growing up in confinement had taken its toll. Being a coyote, a creature thought to be dirty, hated, and feared, did not help. The sentiment was so ingrained in her breed that she felt it, or thought she did, despite never having been the victim of interspecies mistreatment herself. Her parents had somehow instilled thoughts and emotions not belonging to or experienced by her inside of her, forming a trait they likely saw as a blessing of protection. They had meant it to be caution but it had mutated into an out-of-control curse. Trepidation and suspicion were at times more powerful than armies, could defeat swaths of men without their enemies having to lift a finger towards their lives. Today, however, the tiny canine had vanquished it, even if only for a little while. It was a hard-earned victory but she had won herself the opportunity to lay untroubled in the Forest of Nod, a prize well worth the fight.