(410) 8B JSYK the previous reply doesn't count for today, because I made it before I went to bed. IT'S A DIFFERENT DAY FOR ME. /rude (srsly though I can just not reply, just slap my fingers away or something >>)
Myrika is by Alaine!
For one brief and very awful moment, her apprehension was such that she wished the past had never come back to her. It was a terrible thought and one she immediately banished, but it had surfaced a moment, all the same. It was the same thought process which had initially given her over to thinking the first faint wisps of scent, so many weeks ago, were merely an illusion. Or perhaps she'd attributed them a similarly scented canine, or perhaps she was just fooling herself. Whatever deniability there had been was long gone, however, with the return of scent and sound both.
She might not have recognized the once-pale figure before her, if not for the scent. Outside of being taller and far more adult than Myrika remembered, her sister was no longer pale or white. It was clear from whence the scent of old gore had arisen -- it was caked over her, clinging to every visible inch, as if she'd just arisen from a bath of blood and guts. Yet, the tawny-furred hybrid could see even with the distance some of it was Cassie's own -- pink and red streaked from her shoulder, more colorful than all the rest. The bared and raw flesh seemed to scream against the rest of her, streaked off-white and gray-brown and even deep orange-red rust in places.
She tried to urge Cahal forward, but the big horse took only a few steps before he stopped, tossing his head and snorting with increased agitation. Her dismount was ungraceful, starkly contrasted to her usual easy slide in and out of the seat. She ignored the horse even as he turned unceremoniously and trotted off, happy to be released from the duty of advancing on the gore-slicked figure. For her part, Myri could only stand as if entranced, wide-eyed and staring. The tawny-furred woman stepped forward once, stopped, and looked down at the earth as if mildly surprised it remained unmoving and still beneath her feet.
The urge to go forth was too strong to resist, then -- touched with something far stronger than a mere velleity, the hyrbid advanced with fast steps. Cassie. Her voice was a half-whine, light years away from the commanding tone an Aquila ought to take. But then again, she had no need of that particular voice now -- and anyway, when had she ever sounded anything like she was supposed to?
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