10-17-2013, 07:15 PM
Charlotte is with Erich, her fur the luminous, gleaming white of the full moon framed with a hint of wintry haze in the sky. The air is sharp and cold and the skies dark and clear and Charlotte-wolf slips alongside her larger packmate, sleek and sure-footed on the broken ground, running into the dizzying thoughtlessness of the central bawn with a cheerful abandon matched to but different than her packmate's simple, eager, animal joy. The closer they get, though, the greater the pull and pressure. Charlotte-wolf stays close to Erich's flank, a wary silver shadow. She is alert, way and respectful of Desert Oracles, but quiet, tense, and not at all playful like her packmate.
That tension lingers in her as the right begins, but the wolf shakes her wariness more easily than the girl ever does. The voices of the Sept rise around them, jangling, eerie, soaring and sure.
Charlotte joins them, opens herself up, howls.
That tension lingers in her as the right begins, but the wolf shakes her wariness more easily than the girl ever does. The voices of the Sept rise around them, jangling, eerie, soaring and sure.
Charlotte joins them, opens herself up, howls.
But my heart is wild and my bones are steel
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula