04-13-2021, 06:59 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-14-2021, 01:54 AM by Ellinor. Edited 1 time in total.)
As luck would have it, I rolled Temperate for Ellinor's first starting thread. @Célnes if you'd like...
Protected by the high stone walls of Irongrove, nestled snugly in her beloved's embrace with the hearth gone to coals, Ellinor slowly surrendered to the thought of sleep. She felt Dieter's arms sag around her, and his breathing even out as soon as his head hit the pillow—a trait she could never fathom him capable of. He was always ready, always prepared at a moment's notice, and yet he wasn't wound so tightly that he could not sneak rest when the mood struck him. It was one of the countless things she loved about him. She carefully turned in his arms, and buried her nose against his neck, breathing deeply—her heart filled to burst with adoration anew as she succumbed to the peaceful dark with the whisper of his name on her lips.
"Mm," Ellinor stirred to the familiar trill of birdsong, and hushed conversation between the pines as they danced with the breeze. Her awareness came upon her slowly, as it usually did. Lady Holt was not known for her punctuality, or her grace, in the morning. She shifted, still caught in the paradox of conscious intent and subconscious deflection, curling in on herself to preserve the last vestiges of heat from Dieter's absence. It was early—he was out for his run, and would be back come breakfast. But gradually she began to sense there was something greatly amiss in her world—the wonderful smell of baked bread, and crisping bacon was conspicuously absent, but the smell of petrichor and pine were notably stronger.
Did he open a window?
But she could hear no one outside; no conversation, no knicker of horses, or hammering as the artisans of Irongrove worked their craft. The breeze rolled through again, skittering across her mistcloaked fur, and chilling her nose.
In a single move, Ellinor opened her eyes and reached for the covers to throw them aside—
"...WH—!?"
Only, there were no covers nor hands with which to grasp them. Only long, fur-covered legs, with paws attached at the end. Paws that responded the signals sent from her brain. Her paws.
Ellinor bolted upright with a strangled noise of alarm, but immediately began to teeter as she struggled to collect two legs not four under her out of factual habit. She frantically attempted to correct herself, but only succeeded in sending her shoulder first into the sodden ground with a squelch. Undeterred, she mustered the will to try again. This time she managed to plant all four legs under her, braced like a newborn foal with legs too long, and too wobbly, to carry her weight. But stand she did. Her ears twisted wildly as she scanned her surroundings for something, someplace, or someone familiar. It had to be a fool mage playing tricks, or the spirits of the whispering wood granting her a vision.
But wolves had never been her animal. They were—they were...
"...Dieter?" she said in a voice as small and scared as she felt. "Kjarlund...?"
A sob gathered in her throat, "... mom?"
the staff team luvs u