Lacerate your lie

It's evening in the Miramichi Valley, and it's rather pleasant outside. Your character can see a wild horse in the distance.

Generosity couldn't help but notice they were running into a lot of canines in this land. While they hadn't been traveling especially far, it was the longest trek she ever experienced in her life. She wondered quietly to herself if they would ever stop walking or if this was their life now. She was too scared to ask her mother, or else she risked her ire; she knew she had a short patience. The white wolf had been less irritable as of late and the daughter did not want to disturb her from her thoughts.

The land had grown thick with trees as they walked eastward. They avoided the packs to Generosity's dismay. But she kept her disappointment to herself. As the sun began to set beyond the skyline they stopped and began the ritual of settling down for the night. Generosity went to go looking for sticks before her mother could tell her to do so. She was used to the routine now and hoped something as little as this would make her mother happy.

Luckily, it wasn't difficult to find sticks in the forest. Finding dry sticks was a bit hard though. The fire wasn't something entirely necessary for the wolves but the mother explained that it was to keep the bugs away. They couldn't risk the cow becoming diseased or infested. Gen could understand, if from a more empathetic standpoint rather than an economic one. She'd hate to see Milkie get sick.

She had a modest bundle of wood cradled in her arms. The sticks were jumbled and it was getting difficult to keep a hold of them as she bent over to inspect whether to add to her pile. It was then that she smelled something familiar that made her freeze for a moment. She couldn't really explain why she froze in that moment. Was it something bad? Should she run?

But when she recognized the scent and realized why she had such a reaction, it crept forward from a copse of trees. "Horse..." she murmured to herself and her tail wagged behind her. It was a beautiful thing, adorning a white coat that caught the sunlight and gave off a faint shimmer.

One of the wolves back home had a horse. Sometimes they had let Generosity brush its mane. They told her horses were easily spooked, even by someone as small as her. So she stood completely still aside from her wagging tail and watched as the beast walked through the forest. She wished her mother was there to see it.

The pain kept her irritable and she found that spending time with Brocade had her setting her teeth on edge. She had slept curled against his back, kicking and scratching as sleep failed to find her... And at last she had abandoned him for the cool night air.

Brocade slept soundly - oblivious to everything that happened around him.

It was strange, for there were times the man woke screaming or struggling for air... But since his time with The Boss he had proven to be peaceful as the dark crawled rampantly around him. Elphaba had a strange control over the man's heart that Etoile had yet to break. She had watched them from the shadows and felt her plan slip defiantly through her fingers like sand.

But it would work. It had to.

She thought of Ferdinand's smiling face and grimaced sadly as she cantered through the Northern Tides. He was her raison d'etre, the only thing in life that she had ever loved. Branches swept by quickly, her limping gate making her progress slow, her breath labored.

But she wanted to be away from Salsola.

She spooked the horse without thinking - the proud wild thing flaring it's nostrils and stamping its feet as it rocketed past her, trumpeting. The glimpse of it she had was beautiful like the moon, shiny eyes and a man's that rippled like cloud. But it was gone like a ghost - the only sign it was there a disturbance in the grass where it has kicked its way past her.

"Merde," She panted, dropping her head to inhale at the fresh earth.

There were other smells on the air and she suddenly pulled back her lips to reveal slick teeth.

:)

Gen’s concept of beauty was something simple. She knew nothing of pretty dresses or fine shirts or groomed hair. Such things were either unknown to her or made little sense in her mind. But the horse before her was certainly beautiful, she knew. She almost wanted to go up and touch it.

But before she could think to step forward, the horse started and began to stomp its hooves. Generosity shrunk back and dropped the sticks she was carrying to cover her head as she sank down to the ground in a crouch. It was dangerous—even if the horse was far away from where she stood, if it ran her way and struck her, she would be dead.

It whinnied loudly and thundered away into the shadows of the trees. She saw its bright tail, like a flag, disappear after it. Her heart beat was as loud as the beast’s retreat. There was no time for relief to settle in her chest. She saw the pearls of teeth glint from where the horse ran and the dark shape of a canine that owned them.

Generosity was not the one that scared the horse.

“Who...” she began, her voice small. She kept herself crouched, her knees against her chest and hands over her head. She peered at the fanged shadow with wide eyes. Fear from the horse’s sudden outburst morphed into a fear for the stranger before they could truly present themself. “Who are you?”

Being a Mercenary made it difficult for the dark woman to trust people. When she had travelled with her squadron their trust had been purchased with all manner of things, and this payment had made it easy to trace back their loyalty. In Salsola there was the same ritual of gift giving - and in the wake of the new Boss she had witnessed the way Brocade had toyed with the idea of his gift, slowly building and twisting the thing that he would soon present to the Mafiosi.

All of it made her want to retch, to curl her lips and snap at him.

You are a fool Brocade Valentine.

It was the phrase she whispered to herself each night as she slept curled against Brocades chest, her fingers tracing the dark scars that lined his shoulders.

She hadn't expected the smudge of brown between the trees to speak to her - a voice that was filled with innocent uncertainty. The hazel eyes were blinking frantically, and the secui woman breathed heavily, her teeth clicking as she stalked forward towards the woman - her tail held high. When she realized the woman was cowering, her hands clasped firmly over her chocolate ears she relented - her lips lowering as she hissed softly.

"What are you doing." She rolled her eyes, "Get up."

:)

It had not occur to Generosity that she perhaps had the ability to retreat without being notice. The horse caused enough chaos for things to be missed such as the presence of a diminutive girl. Or even if she was detected, she could have ran. She was not a fast runner, especially on two legs, but her mother was not terrribly far away. She could have perhaps made it back to her family before whatever imaginative fate could befall her.

But she was too scared. She didn’t want to turn her back on whoever this was. It was too scary. So she made herself small as the shadow approached her. Instinct told her to cower, to tuck her tail between her legs and her chin against her chest to protect her throat. She knew nothing of the world but her age-old blood told her what to do to survive. She heard the clicking of teeth and she squeezed her eyes shut.

When it spoke to her, Gen realized it was a woman. Wide eyes peeked at the other and, perhaps out of cowardice, the girl obeyed her and shakily rose to her feet. She slouched and kept her ears covered and her head down; even with their height difference she showed submission. “T-the horse,” she started, “It ran away.”

She would have given more explanation (The horse ran and I feared it would strike me, she wanted to say) if her mind wasn’t already in a disarray. The fear she had before was slowly dissipating, though. Generosity was given the opportunity to assess the other now that she was closer and her frightful imagination was fading to memory.

She gingerly peeled her hands away from her head as she looked at the woman. “Was it your’s?”

"I saw everything the same way you did." Her expression narrowed and she forced herself to resist the urge to scratch behind one of her silver-studded ears. Generosity was a nervous girl, a girl who appeared to take instructions well enough - she straightened beneath Etoiles stare, her chocolatey ears low against her skull. Her eyes were dolefully sad, her muzzle downturned... She reminded Etoile of someone but she was't able to put her finger on it.

She scrubbed a paw across her scarred muzzle, "Does it look like I'm fit to ride?"

Her four-legged form twitched as she shook out her thick secui pelt, and she could feel her patience wearing thin. Her brother had not allowed a moments weakness - and it was this steely outlook that had followed her through the rest of her life. She remembered Marceau and his leering mouth - the way he had been all too eager to cut her down while her other brothers teased and prodded.

She was impatient with most things - save for her plan to end Brocades life. She had forced herself into the Thistle Kingdom alongside Jacquard and had decided long ago that her plan would take as long as it needed. There was no use rushing murder. There was no use rushing this shy girl with the frantically blinking eyes and trembling hands.

The realization had her sitting amongst the thick undergrowth and sighing deeply as she gathered her thoughts.

There was no need to be cruel.

"What's your name?"

:)

Generosity’s ears flicked a moment in acute embarrassment when the woman stated that she saw the same that she did. Now she really felt slow. But she tried not to dwell on that. She wanted to gather her sticks and get back to her mother.

She did pout her lips a little when the stranger rebutted that she was not fit to ride in her form. That was true (and if this had been a lighter situation, Gen would have found amusement in the image of a four-legged wolf trying to ride a horse, but she dared not laugh now) but it still could’ve been her’s, she thought. Taking it for a walk or something. But at least now she felt a little better knowing that someone’s horse wasn’t running away. Maybe it was a true wild beast.

“No,” she answered her. No matter how rhetorical the question, it was only polite to answer straightforward and not give her reasons for asking the question to begin with.

She stooped down carefully to start gathering the sticks in her arms again. She thought that maybe the woman wouldn’t mind this. The girl peered up at her as the question was asked. In the dying light, she realized that the woman’s face was speckled white, as if someone had dusted stars on her face. It was rather pretty.

“I’m Generosity,” she said, then she was reminded that she never got the other’s name either. “What’s your’s?”

"Generosity." She said the name flatly and with a hint of disbelief - but reigned it in, biting her tongue with a shake of her sleek dark head. "That's... a nice name." She wondered where this girl had come from, named after such a virtue. She had bent to collect her sticks, gathering each one in the crook of her pudgy arm.

Her large ears fanned as she thoughtfully gaze upon Generosity, "I am Etoile."

She rolled her eyes, "Hold on, let me help you-" Without waiting Etoile spurred herself to shift, revelling in the heat that flowed through her as she rose from two legs to four. Her bones snapped and cracked like kindling, her hair falling in long dark curls along her shoulders. Everything bounced into place as she adjusted her pendant so that it hung just so against her collar bone.

"Hmph," She grit her teeth, "Anyone ever tell you your name is contagious?"

The Mercenary brushed her hands against her naked hips and crouched to pull the loose sticks toward her. Here, naked beneath the broken moon the crescents of scars along her arms glittered like frost.

Her lips twitched, "Where's your camp? You travel alone?"

<3

Generosity blinked in confused when the woman repeated her name like it was a question. That was her name—and despite knowing this for a fact, the woman's initial reaction began to make her doubt herself. But the compliment made her ears perk and she gave a nervous wag of her tail. "You think so?"

The woman gave her name in turn, and feeling obligated to, she echoed, "That's a nice name, too, Etoile!"

She paused when the other said that she was going to help her, and Gen straightened up with the few sticks she had gathered to watch as Etoile shifted. Her mane was long, longer than Generosity's, and her body grew even taller. The woman was her senior and the girl knew this, but the difference was made more stark as she looked up at the taller canine. The scars were also more noticeable the closer she was, and the girl eyed them curiously as the other began to pick up sticks.

"What do you mean, 'contagious?'" Was that a bad thing? Could names do that? She busied herself with plucking sticks as well next to the woman. It was strange—but it was nice. A nice little surprise, like seeing the horse.

"I'm traveling with my mom and our cow, Milkie, and my chicken, Primrose," she babbled. She made the distinction that Primrose was her's, for that was quite important in her mind. It made her feel grown up. "Our camp is nearby, if you wanna come visit. We're gonna start a fire so Milkie doesn't get sick."

Once all the sticks were gathered, Generosity looked at Etoile. Her tail twitched with the ghost of a wag.

Travelling was something that Etoile understood deeply - it was a necessary part of her life that had been passed down from generation after generation. Her brother's had all been plagued with gypsy hearts, all too eager to abandon home in favor of the great unknown that lay beyond. She had been like that too until she had found Ferdinand. He had been the only reason she had stopped moving at all.

Her scarred muzzle twitched and she glanced at Generosity.

"Well you know what your name means right?" She propped the kindling in the crook of her arm as she continued, "I am not usually so generous." She shrugged and offered the bundle to the girl, rubbing her hands across the front of her thighs to clear them of debris.

When Generosity explained her companions Etoile barked a laugh, raising an angled brow incredulously.

"Your cows name is Milkie?! She was grinning now, all teeth and dark hair, "Sure thing Generosity," she was still chuffing laughter through her lips, "Show me your camp."