Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

The brightness that pours forth from her is the counterbalance to all that he is. Each outburst of brilliant sound makes own irridate; makes self feel light with their play. And nothing is wrong with the world in these moments; nothing else is of substance. Elsewhere, terrible things happen, consequences are sown, and much is reaped but here? Their sounds reverberate upon the airs but get far naught. Drowned by the waters and by the space, they are alone; for the waterfall is mighty. Fur is sodden with it, catching the droplets of spray and reflecting the scene in a thousand small orbs.

Eyes catch the way that she lunges for him, mirrors him, opposes him! Her small body all blur of motion cast in haze of white. A wraith, not a shadow, attempting to catch self. Surprise! Bark! Voicing loud as she slips, as footing is lost and the lightwalker slides toward him, leaping and limping. No pause is given. Heart is beating fast! Tail wags; nothing deters him! Out of some instinct, he wishes to play more. To elevate their play. (For play is nothing more than practice.)

Concentration. Darken! Conseal. Shadows to hide. And away, the light that falls around the black shuck from the orbs above scatters away from him as though marbles thrown. The cool of a perpetual dark falls over him and in this gloom, he is cast! No sound is made. Perhaps this is of surprise, perhaps not.

Quietly, he breaths. For he wishes to take her by surprise!

---

@Vyette

Still reeling from her recent slip, she looks up to be comforted by the shuck but he’s gone and there is only darkness! Curious ears prick forward and she leaps towards where she could’ve sworn he’d just been and, nose to the ground, she seeks out his scent. She barks: once, twice, and then — ! A third time, but the sound is distorted, twisted, and it comes from somewhere in the distance.

Two mysteries! She is enthralled, bounding around, wondering where he’d gone to. Coal nose to the ground again, she sniffs, scouring. Damp hair clung to her form and she shivered, the cold starting to take a toll on her small frame, but she continued to seek out his scent, determined.

@kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

At first there is pride in deceit; for it as though the black shuck has vanished. Surely the trail that once led to him has gone cold, at least visually. For a moment she falters, ears pricking - nose trying to sort out this latest concern. Oh, he is laying low, making sure to make naught a sound. By intention he concentrations with his all on remaining hidden from her until - ears flick. Concentration crumbles and at once own spell is broken; lost. For she barks - there! Elsewhere!

Frightened he had been. As voice is thrown across the cavern but still the wraith one remains standing before. Tail wags, low, as the black one rushes to meet the form of the other, intent on pouncing on her! With tail wagging and own nose sniffing, the void one aims for her and strikes, nearly missing (for he is still quite frightened by her tricks) but succeeding in bringing them both to the floor.

Nose is at once set to pressing to make sure that she is whole. Bark! Bark! Aware of the wetness of them; and too, the draft of the cavern. The roar of the waterfall more than mere sound. Pressing close to her, he pins her for a moment more before moving back, still wagging, mouth and tongue passing over cheek - lip licking - to make sure that no harm is done.

For all of this is instinctual, just as the growing hunger in form and the understanding of the cold. For there is a breeze in the cavernous mouth near the waterfall, and it is chilling to the bone. And they are so very small ...

---

@Vyette

There! He is there! She wriggles with joy! Elation! It is her, their, first experiences with their magics and it is exciting. It is a part of them and they are a part of each other.

And then he is at her, tumbling. An excited yip and a few barks to echo his — his nose tickles her. And then he is on her, over her, and she lifts her head, maw parting to lick at his chin. Lick, lick, yip! She flops back, a spill of hair, her own tail wagging against the floor as he reciprocated her licking.

She shivers, shakes. Teeth chatter! She moves to scoot closer to him, for he is warmer than the alternatives. Soon, her exhales are quiet whimpers, and her shivering intensifies. She scrambles to stand, still shaking, and presses against him even moreso.

@kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Danger. But coming naught in the form of hungry snapping carnivorous teeth or lurking shadowed forms. No, feeling fear in the way that the other shook; trembled. And he moves closer, pressing body to body, fur to fur, curling self around her in order to shield her from the vile cold. And yes, it is the cold. Not good - that is known. He presses his nose to her neck, to the top of her head, nuzzling there. But it will not be enough.

Instinct says that they must find dry and then they will warm. Nose raises. They will go away from the damp, from the mist, and the smell of the water. Here it is too much. Groan is voiced, low and soft, a noise to soothe. For he will make it better. He steps toward the edges of the cavern, where the rock is not so drenched. As he steps, he makes sure that she follows, that she presses near.

Heading for the Warrans, they move away from the main area of the cavern - making slow, deliberate distance from the waterfall. Gradually, the rock begins to roll into moss covered “hills.” Moon eyes look, searching for cover from the prevailing winds. There are many boulders, and with a press of snout to her, he directs her toward them.

For this is his duty. He knows this. She shall never want for a protector. In the way that he listens for her breaths, her heartbeats, and nose presses to her - again, again. So they can exit this place.

---

@Vyette

He is close, he is near. She is safe. She trembles, but his warmth radiates and she seeks him out. So as he moves away, she is quick to stand and follow, to exit their birthplace. She will be the ghost that haunts him, trailing after him through these long halls.

She stays by his flank, white face pressed to black fur, and she breathes him in. A curious eye watches as the scenery shifts, changes, and she can feel the chill come now from a wind. It is nice, she thinks, this feeling. It rustles her coat and, although it does make her shiver still, she enjoys the feeling.

She feels playful again, and expresses this with a chewing of his neck, but she needs time to dry, to grow warm.

@kazgut