an angel born in a bramble ditch

POSTED: Thu Feb 12, 2015 10:11 pm


It unnerved Pascal to be in a house that was not his own. The wooden floor felt odd under his feet, and the shape of the roof made him feel like the entire thing would cave in. He'd shifted into his four-legged form to try to stave off the feeling, but it was still there -- along with the scent of cat and the family here.

Shiloh's scent was strongly Stormbringer, with a clean and flowery smell that he liked and that reminded him of his mother -- just different enough to be uncanny and uncomfortable. The puppies smelled more like Abigail did, a mixture of Stormbringer and Sadira scents, but both smelled strongly of forest and earth, too. It reminded him of his own puppy days, but even bright memories couldn't shake the discomfort of being under a strange roof.

After a while, Pascal couldn't take it anymore. He flattened his ears and padded toward the door, glancing into the inky blackness of the window, and reared on his hind legs to open the latch with a careful motion of paws and teeth. The door opened, the cold rushing in, numbing him, and he quickly leaped across the threshold. The wood creaked behind him, and with ears down he trotted into the confusing wooded tangles of Jordheim, mismatched eyes flicking in unease to the shadows around him.

He shivered, and suddenly yelped.
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tale as old as time
misfit prince

POSTED: Thu Feb 12, 2015 10:20 pm


Myrkr stirred.

He couldn't sleep and, despite Shiloh's deep grumbles to be still, tossed and turned in the furs, his lanky limbs stretched out one way, then curled beneath him, then pressed into his mother's side. She grew cross at him at last, pushing him with a foot down at the end of the bedding, if gently, before turning over with a tired groan. The woman was tired enough to fall asleep quickly after, though, and Myrkr envied her for her soft, delicate little snores.

Then he was thankful, because when claws clicked on the wood outside the bedroom, and the door creaked, he heard -- and she didn't.

The dark Stormbringer glanced at his mother for a few tense beats, then rose and used all his feline stealth to muffle his paws on the furs then tiptoe where the floor was silent. Wilson had shown him all the creaky spots and taught him how to position his weight just so, and the wolf moved with the odd, awkward grace of a stork stepping through water.

Melting into the shadows, he wandered the main room and grinned at the door -- cracked open, though he'd learned how to open it for himself, too. He quickly stepped outside, shoving the door back closed with a paw, and trotted after the bulkier, uncertain shadow ahead.

Myrkr had only been briefly acquainted with his half-brother. Why he was only half a brother, he didn't know; Shiloh brushed off explanations while the Courtier had stared awkwardly down at his feet. But he said he was a prince and King Silvano was his dad, and so Myrkr thought he was a brother, all right.

"Hey, Pascal," the boy whispered, and brushed up into the male, before startling at the sudden yelp. He froze, and wilted down against the cold earth, whimpering.

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