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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
A beautiful shade of hurt and soul
Open Floating Key  Anyone!
Currently championing:
Whiskered brims press tenderly into the steamy heat of his flank; these paper-thin nostrils swell open, absorbing the pheromone that was masculine meat and rain. Taunting kisses move downward, cloying slowness. Creamy lips break apart to expose the pearl beneath and drag those flat ivories into him with massaging circular motion. Subtly, his firm, steel-like cords of rippled muscle start to tremble beneath his dripping, tawny skin. My gaze tilts upward, irises mischievous and partly hooded by lashes and forelock, to find his gaze attentive - mirroring affection, clouding...becoming simultaneously stormy and sharp. A hot wave of satisfaction crashes brightly over my expression.

Seductively, my swan-like neck dips against his hip -- rubbing, teasing. The corners of these lips dart upward, eager to continue...eager until a blood curling shriek rockets through the damp, stagnant air. Though it came from somewhere far off in the distance -- it's effect on my passion is startling and instant. In one fell swoop our exotic circumstance strangles lust and confidence. Gooseflesh bubbles to the surface; auditory sentinels tilt rearward, their blood soaked core is hammering anxiously. How foolish of me…what if our passion should kindle a child? Heat drains, leaving me cold…chaste. Helpless to ward against the unvoiced terror of vulnerability and uncertainty...


We travel in grim silence as he leads on, shoving past the undergrowth with remarkable ease and unapologetic strength. I follow, slightly hunkered…wary... Without previous warning, a twinge of hot restlessness slices through my head, pulsing, growing with insistent strength. Unlike lust -- this unserved sensation was demanding, aggressive. The she-wolf utters low in the back of her throat, creating a purr-ish rumble. 'Let me...' Heat flushes into pale crevices…and a cool sweat rises as my uneasy heart kicks into a gallop. The occasional transformation was as necessary as eating; I could hold it back...yet the appetite would always be present and only grew in need.

Surrender is pointless and quick, "Noah," timid, high and imploring, "I need to change." Patched legs stutter, halting...there was no time to say further before my twin is shoving forward, gliding center stage with one motion. These circular, doe-like eyes are traded for the harder caliber of a she-wolf. Flat teeth become sharp, elongated. Reality seems to tumble, growing, shivering -- creating a light, dizzying effect. Eyelids flutter shut, blanketing my reality with darkness.  Patchwork fur envelopes me, gliding from temple to rump in a painless wave. Fuzzy, triangular dials stretch upward, rotating as they adjust to the wet, strange noises around us.

Fangs glisten, their pink sheath is withdrawn, allowing my swollen tongue purchase to hang. These furred legs shuffle forward as their transformation climaxes. Unlike hooves -- they plop into the dampness with near silent effort. She (I) turn into the forest, nose high, quivering. Only in this form did I dare to venture a short way from him...and she (I) wouldn't stray far from those protective shrinking, skittish nature wouldn't stand it. The land moves alongside, effortlessly these two-toned feathers extend, eager for the caress of that flat, briny air. My patchwork fur glistens, the first layers have been dampened, wetted by the relentless drizzle.

OC: Nora changed into her wolf form! References here: Here & Here

Currently championing:
hold on to my HEARTBEAT
You want a change of scenery.

You want something else on your mind. Something other than the crumbling, white buildings, future obligations, and snow. You're homesick; you want the open sky, the gentle rains, you want to forget yourself in the brush of wind and drop faster than your heart can keep up with.

You want to outfly the darkness clinging to your haunches like a cursed wolf; you want to escape and shake the guilt. The shame. The questions.

There's no one you can ask. There's no one you can put against the wall and demand to know what had happened to your home, your Mama, your elders, your friends. You can only remember days of rain and fire, blood and iron, salt and sweat. Exhaustion and determination and confusion. The pride that became necessity that became desperation.

A story you don't know how it ended.

You glide in a drizzle over the ocean, black wings spread wide, golden eyes peering at the wave crests rising in uneven patterns below you. Just, this: an ocean. You hadn't seen anything bigger than a lake before coming here.

By the time the strange little tropical island comes into view your spirits are lifted, at least a little. You're out from underneath your ghosts, in a place that is a bit too different to remind you of home. Besides, you've been meaning to give it a proper visit for weeks, ever since you first saw it and discarded it as 'probably not holding any answers to your questions'.

And then, you just sort of forgot about it.

You touch down on one of the coastlines, peering around you with unmasked curiosity. You seem alone, but the forest ahead of you is so thick it's impossible to tell if there's anything there. You blink a little, before shrugging, and heading towards what seems a likely path.

You pass under the canopy's edge.

The world has swallowed you.

For a creature of open plains and unlimited skies, the sensation of stepping into the forest is somewhat claustrophobic. It is.. surprising, and disconcerting; you pause, peering behind you. You're no further in than twenty yards, and you already feel like going back.

And to make matters worse, you're dangerously close to a wolf you cannot see, but are slowly starting to scent.

[ @Nora ! ]
you’re a dreamer and you don’t know
that no story’s carved in stone
Currently championing:
While momentarily consumed with muffled familiarity -the complacency of travel and the exalted sensation of magic- I'm allowed to recline, to bask in the grim solace that was the rearward cavity of shared occupancy. There was pleasure in the assertion of a predator, the primal instinct of a confident hunter. Courage spurts into my introverted, skittish personality. The she-wolf offers her best smile; and the grin seems good-natured, even empathetic, at least until it widens and canines poke out in their unsettling way, 'call more often,' her tone slips, cascading into a murmur, 'I wouldn't force the change...if you did it willingly.'

The chasm of silence to follow her chide is reply enough. After all...we (I) didn't need to actually give voice toward  displeasure or unease, she could feel the sensations crawl over us (me). The she-wolf knew those fears; they were after plentiful supply. One heart, one body -- two alterations, two halves of the same soul. This power is unlike my other gifts. The she-wolf is me (mine,) as much as tail, legs or wings are. Her awareness isn't sickness...but addition. This magic was nursed - or more apt, sired - from the fractured slivers of personality which never matured to fruition. She was hand crafted - ligament, bone and folical - a beam of pure vitality amidst tragedy. The willful combination of raw will, instinct and magic.

I stretch forward, timidly abandoning comfort in favor of productivity. Nostrils swell greedily, but the persistent weather has bled out variety and there was nothing but wet, close...

'Something? Or someone,' she corrects, grinning wider and flashing those horrible, beautiful teeth.

This saturated environment irritably dampens our (my) canine senses -- still these nostrils suckle the moldy current uselessly; their inbred ability to distinguish and separate has been reduced significantly. Small, furred feet ease off their canter as another wave of uneasiness threatens to override that fresh sense of assertiveness. We (I) press through the grove of foliage, slowing, mindless of leafy fingers who leave memorable trails as they collide and are brushed aside. Rising from the span of stunted greenery, these predatory irises lift just in time to see the solid frame of a towering man. His charred body is faintly haloed by mist -- vibrant tattoo-like markings zig across his countenance. For a moment, she (I) are ensnared, suprised. Caught by the startling beauty of this exotic...

Panic rushes, uncontrollable! My ruffled hindquarters immediately stiffen and their rump shrinks into the damp litter. My tail flies upward, narrowly escaping entrapment. Caramel and cream feathers balloon from their lax hold, their violent swing rams into adjacent branches and unsettles a wild spray of cool liquid! The she-wolf thaws from transfixation and responses...taking rein  of our emotion and reactions. Her insistence is the wall which halts the tide of skirting emotion...countering those anxious, baseless shortcomings with strength! Canine lips withdraw, flashing those ivory needles - while a rumbling, warning snarl ricochets toward the humid sky. Feathers are tugged inward, gliding to occupy their span against our (my) carriage. I hunker in the corner of our occupied space, doe eyes becoming wide, childlike; intuitively letting the wolf run free.

OC: Nora is in her wolf form! References here: Here & Here