vanity and pride are different things
#1
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     Aurèle was pregnant. That much she knew for certain. Not long after having left the black-eyed wolf she had begun putting on weight. While she was still early in conception the white-crème wolf used her lupus form to the full extent. She hunted regularly, and managed to keep herself fully fed throughout the days. Today, though, she had elected for the much rarer Optime form, one that Aurèle did not favor. It restricted her natural instincts, and forced her to think like a human—something that she did not fully understand.
     What she did understand was that her hair was becoming a nuisance. It had grown to about midway down her back, and tying it was no longer an option. So, with a knife in hand, Aurèle was seated on a large stone. Despite her own beauty, the she-wolf had no patience for such feminine or unnecessary things as vanity. She cut through her thick hair quickly, which led to a choppy, uneven look. Still, with her hair now at her shoulders, she felt much lighter. To her left, the pied crow watched silently. This still perturbed her, though she now accepted the bird’s presence. He began to pick at the hair she had cut, forming piles of the pale stuff. Rolling her eyes, Aurèle turned the blade over, studying it. Such instruments seemed unnecessary to her, as many of these man-made things were.

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#2
Oceane had been highly annoyed when her brother had been able to shift before her but it didn't bother her now because she'd found her her spirit guide before he had and no one had a guide quite like she did. The small chocolate and cream girl walked with a pounce in her step as she traced along the paths in the lands. She could see the dappled body of Ethador following behind her, a branch held proudly in his jaws as she tried to slink through the lands carrying the small basket of sand and the embers nestled deep within the comforts of the beach.

The young wolf had almost missed seeing her aunt she was so busy trying to get the flamelings to their next little home. She paused though when Ethador gave a chirp and turned towards the other wolf and after a moment moved to advance towards her. Oceane tried to protest as she was stuck carrying the embers that they weren't suppose to have but in the end she just sighed and followed her friend, knowing that Aurele had probably seen her already anyways.

Setting down the basket carefully and flexing her jaw to loosen the stiff feeling from carrying the container so long she turned towards her aunt, her head tilted to the side in confusion as she asked. "Aurele, what are you doing?" just now noticing that the woman was hacking at her long mane and leaving the pieces all over the floor in piles about them.
#3
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     It had been the raven that noticed the girl first—he froze and stared ahead. Though he was still peculiarly silent, Aurèle could sense his movement in a way that struck her as odd. The smell of fire was her second clue. Ocèan, as it seemed, had taken that scent into her own pelt. Of everything, this bothered her pale aunt most of all. The last woman who had smelled like fire had cost her a home, her family, and uprooted everything that the Aston’s had once been a part of. In a way, Aurèle was gracious. Mostly, though, she wanted nothing but to have sent that bitch to ruin.
     What approached her first was not her chocolate niece, but a spotted cat. Aurèle stiffened, unsure of the unfamiliar animal, but the tension left her as the girl came into sight. Putting down the knife and sparing a glance to the peculiar, silent raven, the alabaster woman snorted. “It seems rather obvious, pitoune, eh?” A friendly (despite the fact that she could not help but seem snide) smile broke across her face. Neon-green eyes trailed away from the girl and to the spotted cat again, still perturbed by its presence. “Who is this?”

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#4
Oceane had never actually watched on in their optime form perform duties that humans were known for doing like grooming. She studied her aunt as she waited to see what the woman had to say about her newest habit that Oceane had found her doing. The small girl pawed at the ground next to her basket, smoothing a nice spot out and nosing the basket onto the level surface she turned to see Ethador placing the large stick he'd been carrying onto the ground and study the older creamy hued female as she drew the knife from her hair.

Oceane frowned slighty as she commented on her doings and Oceane shook her head. "But why?" she asked, not understanding why her aunt was ridding herself of the long locks instead of keeping them like her mother did. Oceane would have loved to have had long silky locks of hair instead of her short thick coat in her lupine form. She'd seen how long Attila's hair had grown when he'd shifted and she wondered how she would look when that time came. Her mind almost wandered off into a million little childish thoughts until her aunt had drown attention to their feline company.

The mocha and cream girl turned then to spy on Ethador who was eying her aunt's spirit guide with interest as Oceane laughed softly at Aurele having seen Ethador. It seemed to her that the feline tried to stay out of sight quite often. Oceane moved to stand beside her friend, nudging him in the ribs with affection as she announced. "This is Ethador! He helps me lots.." With what he helped her she'd rather not say just yet but she didn't realize that it was already obvious to the other woman.
#5
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     Smiling in a peculiar, sad sort of way, the alabaster woman pointed the knife towards the girl. “It serves no purpose,” she explained, accented voice rolling from her deep chest. Even though she had not been home for nearly five years, Aurèle still sounded like she had been misplaced from some strange European country. Her accent was not French, not exactly—she had told a stranger from Europe once she had come from a place called Switzerland, and he had believed her. Not that Aurèle knew what that country was either, but it sounded like an appropriate lie. “Unless you are after a boy, you would do well to have short hair.”
     The spotted cat stared not at the wolf, but at the bird. A strange urge to protect the animal rushed through her, but was quickly ignored as she reasoned that it was a simple animal. After all, birds could fly. It would escape the cat, regardless of long-limbs or number of spots. “Ethador, hm? Where did you happen to find him?” The silent bird moved closer to the older woman, and she spared it a glance. “I think your spotted friend is making the bird nervous.”


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#6
Oceane frowned slightly as she aunt explained that there was really no reason for the things she did just now. There was another question that was upon the tip of her tongue but she let it melt away as Aurele went on to explain that short hair was best unless she was looking for a boy. Oceane couldn't help that her face wrinkled up in confusion as she asked. "But.. why would long hair make it easier to find a boy.." She really was utterly lost but at her age that was easy to do when the truth of the birds and the bees was the subject on display.

She shook her head as she tried to figure out what Aurele meant but softly in her head was the voice of Ethador who spoke in a more childish manner on things she could understand. Understanding dawned upon her maw but was almost instantly replaced with disgust as she stated to Aurele. "Ethador said that you would want a boy to do.. bad things with." The last words a high whisper as her ears folded back against her head.

Aurele then spoke of the feline and her own feathered companion as Oceane turned to look at Ethador as she asked him. "You're not gonna eat the bird are you? Tha'ts not nice." She commented as she shook her head, the cat obviously showing a little guilt at the idea before settling back on his haunches and diligently giving himself a grooming while attempting to ignore the canines and the avian life as well.
#7
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     The alabaster and crème woman eyed her niece quietly, and smiled thinly at the first question. How indeed would hair help a woman? She opened her mouth to explain in youthful terms but the girl seemed to gather this from her feline companion…despite him not making a noise. Peculiar. “It is not bad,” she said, smiling and putting down the knife. “Unless the girl says no, it is not bad.” A familiar and terrible hatred caught in her gut, but she swallowed the urge to vomit. He was dead. He could not hurt her anymore.
     She toyed with her now short hair and shrugged lightly. “Your mother has not yet explained where babies come from, eh?” Not that Aurèle intended to, of course. It was neither her place nor her intention. Without waiting for much of a response, she continued to speak. “I haven’t seen the rest of your family yet. How are they doing?”


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