122 PW Spring
Kitan waited patiently in the house, having devoured the mouse that Gia had caught for him to eat. He wiped the blood from his chin and swallowed the last edible bit.
The little shifter picked up the knife and considered playing catch with it, like he had occasionally seen his father do. He quickly decided that was probably a bad idea no matter how cool it would look. Instead he stood and deftly danced across the old floorboards as if it were a stage. Their creaks of protest formed a disapproving crowd as he made his way back through the doorway to the dining room.
The werewolves he had travelled to this lonely little farm with were long gone, having left to hunt in the wilderness. Kitan was not a hunter; his father had never been able to teach him the patience required for the duty, nor the silence. To kind to raise a hand to his adoptive son, the old dwarf had quietly coddled him until he had gone to Marn to work as a messenger.
Everything had changed. Kitan was not a stranger to blood and guts, but violence between sentient creatures was something Kitan had never fully understood. Oh, his father’s stories of heroism had involved war. But the gulf between the reality of heroism and the way it was handled in stories was as wide as the gap between continents.
The shifter’s happy skipping came to a stop in the dining room. The simple brown table and chairs awaited his next move with held breath, only to be disappointed by its simplicity: Kitan looked at the side of the bloody knife as he stood with his other hand upon the cupboard’s knob. His faint reflection was buried beneath red lines. Memories seemed to flow from the knife, coming back from the past. Kitan was dragged down into that reflection to a rainy day.
Kitan’s pulse quickened and his heart beat like a drum. He hadn’t seen much. It was dark and the storm had obscured the battle. He had spent much of the conflict with his face to the mud. But his eyes were not his only sense. Kitan had heard pain and anguish from human throats, eerily comparable to the death shrills of the beasts his father tracked. He couldn’t hide or dull that sense. He heard the clash of metal on metal, the ringing of colliding blades...
Something white whirled before his vision, breaking him from his reverie. It took Kitan moments to realize he had been standing still before the cupboard, doing nothing, and but a few more moments to realize the delusion had floated above his head to wave its white shrouded arm in front of him.
Something was wrong though. He still heard the sounds, as if steel were hitting steel. Only that wasn’t wholly accurate. It sounded more like something was pounding on wood.
“Drayel? Drayel are you in there?”
Kitan finally noticed that someone had been knocking on the door. He jumped and took a couple steps backwards.
“We know someone’s in there!” A second voice outside proclaimed, while the first farmer’s fist proclaimed its intent to shake the whole house down. “Drayel’s a good man and we won’t see his family home overtaken by vagabonds, you hear?”
Once upon a time, Kitan might have tried to explain the situation. Now, he grabbed his ear and bit his lip, paralyzed. The white robed delusion floated over to the back door, left open by the werewolves, and pointed vigorously. Kitan was reminded that he promised to climb to the roof if anything happened.
He dropped the knife on the floor and scampered to the rear entrance. He did not bother closing the door. His bandaged foot hit the dirt behind the building, which launched upwards in a spray as he spun to climb the wall.
The delusion rushed from the building and continued moving. Kitan’s first instinct was to ignore it climb the wall, but just before jumping he was struck by hesitation. The shifter glanced over his shoulder. The figure in white was still pointing, this time into the woods. Did it think he should find the werewolves? It had helped him before, in a sense.
His ears told him the farmers were getting restless. Kitan made a split second decision to follow the delusion, sprinting the distance at a supernatural pace. His legs were a blur by the time he hopped an old fence separating the yard from the woods, vaulting over the old wood with one hand on a pole.
He landed with a thud on the other side and ducked into the underbrush, running low to the ground. His green tunic blended nicely with the forest as he followed the specter, though his movement would certainly betray him to any wandering eyes. Kitan considered taking to the treetops, but decided against it. For all his agility, he would remain more swift on the ground, and he had to keep pace with the delusion as it floated so confidently before him. Never once did it drop its shrouded limb, pointing to some unseen end.
By the time it stopped moving, a wind had begun to blow through the forest. It floated above a small creek that likely fed into the Ofriyu. Kitan would have been quite thoroughly lost if he wasn’t confident he knew which direction the road was in.
Since the ghost had stopped, Kitan brought himself to a stop as well. His abrupt halt tore up moss atop a fallen log, which then became his perch. His trek through the wilderness had left him covered in foliage, and his already rumpled clothing had a few new tears in it.
Kitan scratched his ear, cleaning it of leaves and twigs, as he waited for the delusion to do something. It was just floating there, looking away from him. He grew a little nervous, as his delusions were rarely so friendly after halts like this. Athough, they had never before relayed to him accurate information, such as during his card game earlier in the day. He did not understand what was going on, and the silent being was no great help.
After a few more moments of sitting in the wind, Kitan hopped down from the log. He was beginning to suspect the delusion had just been toying with him. The fox shifter began walking back to the road, expecting he had a good distance to travel.
The Kitsune's Legacy
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Beauty. Overcome with pride, Hakujoumi pushed her lithe, padded fingers through the fur-like hair bouncing on her forehead. She turned her head this way and that, letting out little coos to herself while she fanned herself with her other hand. In the water of the pond the fox fawned over her reflection as if just discovering it for the first time, reminded of the silly mortal logic that vanity was a crime.
"You are a petty thing," she whispered to the water, and tossed her head again. She brought one arm over her head and grabbed the back of her hair, resting her cheek on her other hand as if posing for a portrait. "Ah, but you are a pretty thing, and petty and pretty go nicely together, don't they?" Her voice, like snakes, made the animals near to her nervous. Her sensitive ears detected brushes of dirt and some commotion beneath the ground. Moles, perhaps.
The half-fox was sitting with her legs curled neatly beneath her. A dismembered rabbit lay in pieces beside her. A toad was bold enough to chirp in the center of the pond while its rivals slept soundly, waiting for evening. Daisies, bloodied with the fox's recent meal, drooped.
Boredom. Loneliness. Beauty.
Spring was a refreshing change from the dreary Thar Shaddin winter, but there was only so much to do in the forest. The occasional venture to kill men was quickly dulling for her. Its ease and messy execution were not stimulating to her magnificence. Her life had become routine, and she didn't like it. Opportunity surrounded her, of that she was sure; it was only a matter of finding it.
Luckily, fate was on her side that day. Cleaning a rabbit bone of flesh, the fox picked at her canine teeth with the claw of her finger, being careful not to slice open her gum. Then, the sameness of the hour was broken as quick steps approached. A creature on two legs ran. Her ears swiveled to face the noise as she decided on the fly whether or not to change. Instinct pushed the change, and her body became illusion, weaving a young human together in one swift movement. She took the form of Isis, twenty-eight years old and lovely as ever. Deciding against it as the steps moved closer, she was suddenly twenty.
Isis hid behind a tree, intentionally poorly. A boy, smaller than her, came rushing out through the trees. He was staring at something. His feet were bound in white bandages, sitting in a most familiar fashion atop a felled tree. For the first time in what may have been years, Hakujoumi felt her breath catch in her chest as she looked on, squinting. Fox ears.
Youthfully, her heart raced, and she cursed the new form for bending to excitement so easily. What to do what to do.
Of course!
A young woman peered from behind a tree at the boy. Her name was Isis, she had hair to her waist. From under her cream-coloured, silk dress were three orange and white tails. She looked fearful.
"Hello?"
"You are a petty thing," she whispered to the water, and tossed her head again. She brought one arm over her head and grabbed the back of her hair, resting her cheek on her other hand as if posing for a portrait. "Ah, but you are a pretty thing, and petty and pretty go nicely together, don't they?" Her voice, like snakes, made the animals near to her nervous. Her sensitive ears detected brushes of dirt and some commotion beneath the ground. Moles, perhaps.
The half-fox was sitting with her legs curled neatly beneath her. A dismembered rabbit lay in pieces beside her. A toad was bold enough to chirp in the center of the pond while its rivals slept soundly, waiting for evening. Daisies, bloodied with the fox's recent meal, drooped.
Boredom. Loneliness. Beauty.
Spring was a refreshing change from the dreary Thar Shaddin winter, but there was only so much to do in the forest. The occasional venture to kill men was quickly dulling for her. Its ease and messy execution were not stimulating to her magnificence. Her life had become routine, and she didn't like it. Opportunity surrounded her, of that she was sure; it was only a matter of finding it.
Luckily, fate was on her side that day. Cleaning a rabbit bone of flesh, the fox picked at her canine teeth with the claw of her finger, being careful not to slice open her gum. Then, the sameness of the hour was broken as quick steps approached. A creature on two legs ran. Her ears swiveled to face the noise as she decided on the fly whether or not to change. Instinct pushed the change, and her body became illusion, weaving a young human together in one swift movement. She took the form of Isis, twenty-eight years old and lovely as ever. Deciding against it as the steps moved closer, she was suddenly twenty.
Isis hid behind a tree, intentionally poorly. A boy, smaller than her, came rushing out through the trees. He was staring at something. His feet were bound in white bandages, sitting in a most familiar fashion atop a felled tree. For the first time in what may have been years, Hakujoumi felt her breath catch in her chest as she looked on, squinting. Fox ears.
Youthfully, her heart raced, and she cursed the new form for bending to excitement so easily. What to do what to do.
Of course!
A young woman peered from behind a tree at the boy. Her name was Isis, she had hair to her waist. From under her cream-coloured, silk dress were three orange and white tails. She looked fearful.
"Hello?"
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan heard her footsteps moments before he saw her. His loping movements came to a gradual halt as he inquisitively checked on the source of the noises. He tensed, wondering fearfully what other person could possibly have reason to be this far out into the forest. His mind leapt to horrible conclusions: as far as he knew, the guard had not yet caught that cannibal in the woods. He turned his head, its ears pointing as downwards as they could, just as Hakujoumi spoke her words of greeting.
His footsteps came to an abrupt end; the sudden force of his halt caused the dead branches and leaves beneath his calloused toes to snap in two. He blinked twice in silence, stunned. All the years of searching for another kitsune rushed into his thoughts, finding only other shifters with no real clues to his heritage. Now suddenly, the delusions he had feared all his life had led him straight to one. To say he was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
“Tails!” He blurted, pointing rather inelegantly. His arm wavered up and down while his mouth hung open. He looked back over his shoulder to try and see what his delusion was doing, but it had vanished from sight. The peaceful brook was the only movement aside from the trees, the tops of which waved back and forth in the wind. His arm lowered as he gaped. The delusion, or spirit, or whatever it was might have led him here specifically to meet this mysterious three-tailed kitsune.
Struck by the sudden sense that he was being very rude, Kitan turned around and finally noticed that she appeared nervous and scared. His voice caught in his throat, for he was largely unaccustomed to being the one who scared people. It wasn’t entirely true, but whenever he had made someone nervous, it had been the fault of his ears. He grabbed at them and pulled them downwards, tucking his tail between his legs. After tripping over his speech for a couple unintelligible syllables, he haltingly yelled out, “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry! My n-name is Kitan!” He took several steps forwards towards this new presence and let go of his ears. “I’ve never met another kitsune before! Don’t run away!”
Stuck by a sudden impulse, the little shifter abruptly sat down on the forest floor to let her know he was no threat. If he had checked, he might have noticed the small grey rock, smooth but slim, sticking out of the dense foliage. His features contracted upon contact in a toothy wince of pain, but besides a reactionary tensing of his limbs displayed no further signs of discomfort. Kitan closed his eyes, unable to face her. He assumed he was making a poor first impression.
His footsteps came to an abrupt end; the sudden force of his halt caused the dead branches and leaves beneath his calloused toes to snap in two. He blinked twice in silence, stunned. All the years of searching for another kitsune rushed into his thoughts, finding only other shifters with no real clues to his heritage. Now suddenly, the delusions he had feared all his life had led him straight to one. To say he was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
“Tails!” He blurted, pointing rather inelegantly. His arm wavered up and down while his mouth hung open. He looked back over his shoulder to try and see what his delusion was doing, but it had vanished from sight. The peaceful brook was the only movement aside from the trees, the tops of which waved back and forth in the wind. His arm lowered as he gaped. The delusion, or spirit, or whatever it was might have led him here specifically to meet this mysterious three-tailed kitsune.
Struck by the sudden sense that he was being very rude, Kitan turned around and finally noticed that she appeared nervous and scared. His voice caught in his throat, for he was largely unaccustomed to being the one who scared people. It wasn’t entirely true, but whenever he had made someone nervous, it had been the fault of his ears. He grabbed at them and pulled them downwards, tucking his tail between his legs. After tripping over his speech for a couple unintelligible syllables, he haltingly yelled out, “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry! My n-name is Kitan!” He took several steps forwards towards this new presence and let go of his ears. “I’ve never met another kitsune before! Don’t run away!”
Stuck by a sudden impulse, the little shifter abruptly sat down on the forest floor to let her know he was no threat. If he had checked, he might have noticed the small grey rock, smooth but slim, sticking out of the dense foliage. His features contracted upon contact in a toothy wince of pain, but besides a reactionary tensing of his limbs displayed no further signs of discomfort. Kitan closed his eyes, unable to face her. He assumed he was making a poor first impression.
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Hakujoumi would need to stay in character of her invention. She decided everything on the fly. Who was this girl? What was her temperament? What were her goals in life? All at once it came to her as easily as that, for she had been manipulating other people for far too long in her miserable life. A wonderful sense of pride leaked into her system, but she transferred this emotion to no more than a timid smile on the surface of her young features.
"Tails!" His shout made her hide her tails further beneath her dress. The outfit was simpler than Hakujoumi's other disguises in nature. It went down to her knees, covering her delicate shoulders and revealing very little of her small breasts. She tried to manage a blush as the boy tried to explain himself, but no blood surfaced on her cheeks and she was left standing by the tree, head down, eyes flicking up curiously.
Isis stared at the boy's ears. Cute little bits of him. They made her want to nibble them, and Hakujoumi wasn't sure if that urge was sexual or mothering. Either way, this boy would belong to her by the end of the day. Curiosity burned in her. She wanted to know everything about this boy. She was not letting him go before she was able to discover him. So rare were kitsunes, even half-formed ones, that such a spontaneous encounter made her crazed with a need for knowledge.
He sat, and she smiled. Isis tried to keep the smile thin and frail, but a sense of malice came to her and she could not hide her true expression. Hoping he had not seen this, she stepped out from behind the tree and walked toward him. She wore no shoes, like him. He was called Kitan.
"I'm Isis," said Isis. She pushed her long, wavy hair out of her eyes. In most of her human personas, she liked to keep her hair tied back or short, but long hair seemed to have a certain charm about it to boys. "You've never met another kitsune before? Wow!" It was unlikely to meet other kitsunes, but he didn't need to know that.
"Do you live in Shim?" Her nervousness seemed to evaporate as she closed the distance between them. Carefully, she too sat on the ground in front of him, tucking her legs beneath her so as not to show anything inappropriate. The hem of her dress was instantly dirtied, but she didn't seem to mind that or the pebbles pressing against her naked skin.
"Tails!" His shout made her hide her tails further beneath her dress. The outfit was simpler than Hakujoumi's other disguises in nature. It went down to her knees, covering her delicate shoulders and revealing very little of her small breasts. She tried to manage a blush as the boy tried to explain himself, but no blood surfaced on her cheeks and she was left standing by the tree, head down, eyes flicking up curiously.
Isis stared at the boy's ears. Cute little bits of him. They made her want to nibble them, and Hakujoumi wasn't sure if that urge was sexual or mothering. Either way, this boy would belong to her by the end of the day. Curiosity burned in her. She wanted to know everything about this boy. She was not letting him go before she was able to discover him. So rare were kitsunes, even half-formed ones, that such a spontaneous encounter made her crazed with a need for knowledge.
He sat, and she smiled. Isis tried to keep the smile thin and frail, but a sense of malice came to her and she could not hide her true expression. Hoping he had not seen this, she stepped out from behind the tree and walked toward him. She wore no shoes, like him. He was called Kitan.
"I'm Isis," said Isis. She pushed her long, wavy hair out of her eyes. In most of her human personas, she liked to keep her hair tied back or short, but long hair seemed to have a certain charm about it to boys. "You've never met another kitsune before? Wow!" It was unlikely to meet other kitsunes, but he didn't need to know that.
"Do you live in Shim?" Her nervousness seemed to evaporate as she closed the distance between them. Carefully, she too sat on the ground in front of him, tucking her legs beneath her so as not to show anything inappropriate. The hem of her dress was instantly dirtied, but she didn't seem to mind that or the pebbles pressing against her naked skin.
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
A leaf fell down beside them, plucked from a distant tree and carried down the brook by the breeze. Kitan felt every bit as overwhelmed as that leaf, carried along by forces it could not comprehend. A multitude of questions sprung to his mind and he hadn’t the faintest idea where to start. How does a kitsune shift? Why did she have three tails? Where could he meet more kitsune?
Kitan pulled his ear downwards with his right hand as he tried to decide. He shuffled off the rock he had sat upon so that his rear rested on a layer of grass and soft dirt instead and flicked his tail out to his left. No thoughts of hiding his own features crossed his mind, but it did occur to him as strange that she should hide her own. He was a kitsune too, after all. He had not called attention to her fox features with fear and superstition, but curiosity.
His counterpart’s visual appearance was fascinating to Kitan in other ways as well. Her beauty was too subtle, and he too innocent, for it to consciously affect him, but all the same Kitan could not take his eyes away. He noted their striking similarities; they bore a similar hair color, and Kitan drew no small amount of pride from the fact that she also did not wear shoes. To him, it was a small mark of destiny that he had remained true to the ways of his species despite having never before met them. As he exalted her as an ideal model of the kitsune race to which he should mold himself, he ironically missed the malicious expression which briefly decorated her features. His attention was drawn back when she introduced herself.
“Isis...” He mulled over the name. It sounded sort of familiar. Had he heard it in one of his father’s stories? He could not recall anything specific. It might have been held in a minor or distant role. “That’s a nice name. No, I live in Marn now. I used to live out here in the woods with my father.”
Rapidly losing interest in that train of thought, he again struggled to locate a question he would feel comfortable asking first. She was plainly embarrassed about her tails. Maybe she was somehow malformed? Well, if she was nervous about those he shouldn’t ask. Realizing that time was passing on and on, Kitan felt very pressured to speak. Vocalizing his words far too quickly to seem natural, he blurted out “Can you please teach me how to shift?”
Kitan pulled his ear downwards with his right hand as he tried to decide. He shuffled off the rock he had sat upon so that his rear rested on a layer of grass and soft dirt instead and flicked his tail out to his left. No thoughts of hiding his own features crossed his mind, but it did occur to him as strange that she should hide her own. He was a kitsune too, after all. He had not called attention to her fox features with fear and superstition, but curiosity.
His counterpart’s visual appearance was fascinating to Kitan in other ways as well. Her beauty was too subtle, and he too innocent, for it to consciously affect him, but all the same Kitan could not take his eyes away. He noted their striking similarities; they bore a similar hair color, and Kitan drew no small amount of pride from the fact that she also did not wear shoes. To him, it was a small mark of destiny that he had remained true to the ways of his species despite having never before met them. As he exalted her as an ideal model of the kitsune race to which he should mold himself, he ironically missed the malicious expression which briefly decorated her features. His attention was drawn back when she introduced herself.
“Isis...” He mulled over the name. It sounded sort of familiar. Had he heard it in one of his father’s stories? He could not recall anything specific. It might have been held in a minor or distant role. “That’s a nice name. No, I live in Marn now. I used to live out here in the woods with my father.”
Rapidly losing interest in that train of thought, he again struggled to locate a question he would feel comfortable asking first. She was plainly embarrassed about her tails. Maybe she was somehow malformed? Well, if she was nervous about those he shouldn’t ask. Realizing that time was passing on and on, Kitan felt very pressured to speak. Vocalizing his words far too quickly to seem natural, he blurted out “Can you please teach me how to shift?”
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan pulled one of his ears downwards, a curious expression of thought. Isis found it cute.
Isis tried to gauge him, tried to figure out if he was full blood, but his sense of curiosity and sheer innocence seemed enough to tip that he was not older than fifty. Then again, kitsunes had a knack for trickery, and Isis couldn't help but wonder if it was really some wise kitsune sitting before her, masquerading as a teenager half-breed. Even Inari herself had been known to do such things, if only to taunt her loyal followers and nasty enemies alike.
Kitan lived in Marn.
"I live out here!" Isis blurted, giggling at her own voice and batting her eyes bashfully. Deciding that was too much, she quickly resumed a listener's expression. "Sorry.." Her voice drifted. He did not speak.
Isis watched him in the silence, cocking her head in quite the canine manner. Shifting her weight so that she was not sitting on her tails and stones weren't shoved into her skin, she lightly dusted her dress. The tails curled around her body, one to the right and the other to the left. They were so large that they almost completely encircled her petite form. She watched his feet as he also moved in his seat, and noted the similarity between his fur and hers. Their hair was of nearly the same shade, and they were both naturally petite.
They regarded each other with equal, but dissimilar curiosity. Then, the boy broke the forest's gentle white noise with one, simple question.
“Can you please teach me how to shift?”
Isis had never met a shifter who was unable to shift. The very idea was laughable, and it took everything in her not to burst into impish hysterics. She glazed her amusement over with a crafty grin.
"You never learned to shift?" The grin fell away into a kind of wonder, like Kitan was the most interesting creature she had ever seen. Her lips parted. "Didn't your dad teach you?"
Unable to resist the urge to show off, she spontaneously changed her ears from human to fox. The shift was seamless; the ears simply melted together until it was done, with no sound or trace of effort from Isis.
Isis tried to gauge him, tried to figure out if he was full blood, but his sense of curiosity and sheer innocence seemed enough to tip that he was not older than fifty. Then again, kitsunes had a knack for trickery, and Isis couldn't help but wonder if it was really some wise kitsune sitting before her, masquerading as a teenager half-breed. Even Inari herself had been known to do such things, if only to taunt her loyal followers and nasty enemies alike.
Kitan lived in Marn.
"I live out here!" Isis blurted, giggling at her own voice and batting her eyes bashfully. Deciding that was too much, she quickly resumed a listener's expression. "Sorry.." Her voice drifted. He did not speak.
Isis watched him in the silence, cocking her head in quite the canine manner. Shifting her weight so that she was not sitting on her tails and stones weren't shoved into her skin, she lightly dusted her dress. The tails curled around her body, one to the right and the other to the left. They were so large that they almost completely encircled her petite form. She watched his feet as he also moved in his seat, and noted the similarity between his fur and hers. Their hair was of nearly the same shade, and they were both naturally petite.
They regarded each other with equal, but dissimilar curiosity. Then, the boy broke the forest's gentle white noise with one, simple question.
“Can you please teach me how to shift?”
Isis had never met a shifter who was unable to shift. The very idea was laughable, and it took everything in her not to burst into impish hysterics. She glazed her amusement over with a crafty grin.
"You never learned to shift?" The grin fell away into a kind of wonder, like Kitan was the most interesting creature she had ever seen. Her lips parted. "Didn't your dad teach you?"
Unable to resist the urge to show off, she spontaneously changed her ears from human to fox. The shift was seamless; the ears simply melted together until it was done, with no sound or trace of effort from Isis.
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan’s cheeks turned a brilliant red color. Her obvious interest in him was thoroughly embarrassing, especially on the subject of his ignorance about his own species’ most defining traits. He drew his legs up to his chin, hugged his legs and curled up into a little ball of pouting fox. The white bandages he wore were rapidly turning brown as they were dragged through dirt and grass. His tail also tightened around his feet, but its rebellious tip curved away from him.
“Yes, alright? I never learned. My father is a dwarf who found me by the roadside. We never found out why I was there.” He contracted himself more tightly as he sulked. “He couldn’t teach me and no other shifter he found could either. I figured there must be something unique about how kitsune do it.”
When she shifted her ears, Kitan reacted as if struck by lightning. He was abruptly jolted out of his balled up posture and had to throw his hands to the ground for stability. Right before him was the power he had sought all his life. He grimaced, and realized he shouldn’t be so surprised. Shifting was something every shifter but he could do and he had just recently left the company of two werewolves. Maybe he had always hoped that being a kitsune was different, and he was actually a regular example of his species.
He had an infinite number of questions he wanted to ask, but held his tongue. Shifting was his first goal.
“Yes, alright? I never learned. My father is a dwarf who found me by the roadside. We never found out why I was there.” He contracted himself more tightly as he sulked. “He couldn’t teach me and no other shifter he found could either. I figured there must be something unique about how kitsune do it.”
When she shifted her ears, Kitan reacted as if struck by lightning. He was abruptly jolted out of his balled up posture and had to throw his hands to the ground for stability. Right before him was the power he had sought all his life. He grimaced, and realized he shouldn’t be so surprised. Shifting was something every shifter but he could do and he had just recently left the company of two werewolves. Maybe he had always hoped that being a kitsune was different, and he was actually a regular example of his species.
He had an infinite number of questions he wanted to ask, but held his tongue. Shifting was his first goal.
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan's father was a dwaft? Impossible. No dwarf could raise a child of such magical superiority. The creatures were full of hatred and aggressive tendencies. Isis would be caught dead before trusting a dwarf of all things with a kitsune child, half-breed or otherwise. No wonder the boy had turned out half-formed. It seemed obvious to her now that such parenting would lead to what might be called 'stunted growth.'
The boy went on further to explain that other shifters hadn't been able to show him how to do it either, which was curious indeed. To her knowledge, which was of course unlimited and unbiased, all werefoxes shifted the same way. They shifted the same way all shifters did. They manipulated their literal physical forms. They simply had an instinct to do so, tied perhaps to emotion or focus, or even by phases of the moon. Hakujoumi had never known of a werefox who shifted in the way that she did.
Of course, she had admittedly not met many werefoxes.
This may have been the first. Or second. It was hard to keep track.
"There is something unique about us!" Her voice was full of eagerness and punctuated by chortles. Her tails wiggled with anticipation. She took one of the tails in her hands and stroked it with delicate fingers, like holding a stuffed bear. Hardly a few seconds of that went by before she spontaneously pushed herself onto her front hands, leaning toward him on all fours, and declared, "Okay, I'll show you!" Isis shook herself briefly, like a dog with an itch, and once again pushed her hair out of her eyes. She put her hands out like she was readying herself for some epic task.
Then, she paused, and peered at Kitan.
"Can you make illusions?"
The boy went on further to explain that other shifters hadn't been able to show him how to do it either, which was curious indeed. To her knowledge, which was of course unlimited and unbiased, all werefoxes shifted the same way. They shifted the same way all shifters did. They manipulated their literal physical forms. They simply had an instinct to do so, tied perhaps to emotion or focus, or even by phases of the moon. Hakujoumi had never known of a werefox who shifted in the way that she did.
Of course, she had admittedly not met many werefoxes.
This may have been the first. Or second. It was hard to keep track.
"There is something unique about us!" Her voice was full of eagerness and punctuated by chortles. Her tails wiggled with anticipation. She took one of the tails in her hands and stroked it with delicate fingers, like holding a stuffed bear. Hardly a few seconds of that went by before she spontaneously pushed herself onto her front hands, leaning toward him on all fours, and declared, "Okay, I'll show you!" Isis shook herself briefly, like a dog with an itch, and once again pushed her hair out of her eyes. She put her hands out like she was readying herself for some epic task.
Then, she paused, and peered at Kitan.
"Can you make illusions?"
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan straightened his back, elated at the chance to finally witness the transformation of a kitsune. He was certain that insight was just around the corner. As soon as she shifted, something would click in his mind and he would be able to run through the woods as a fox all nimble and small and... she was just standing there.
Kitan blinked twice, a little bit shocked. He had heard her, but the abrupt switch in topics simply did not register. The little gnometech gears in his head grinded together roughly and his thought processes halted for a moment. It wasn’t helped by the fact that, hunched over as she was, he had a reasonable view of her cleavage. His cheeks received a fresh wave of red.
He made another inelegant “Uh” sound and then proceeded to declare, “I can make illusions. They are only images though. There is no sound.” Kitan mulled over his many deficiencies, his face contorting. Was he really so incompetent? The way she said it, it seemed like it might be another thing all Kitsune could do. “They are very convincing otherwise though!” He claimed, in a desperate attempt to save face.
He considered showing her his aptitude for further proof. He thought of the white spirit. Would it be able to contact him if he did not cast again? He had learned so much already by following its guidance, but he wondered if he would be able to rely on it being the next to appear. He tugged his ear and turned his face to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
“Why?” He asked petulantly, sticking out his lower lip. He let go of his ear, which caught the wind and was pushed forwards toward Isis, to cross his arms. His other ear followed suit shortly after, and the little shifter shivered in response to the chill. It probably didn’t help that he had been sitting on the damp forest grass just moments ago. It did at least disguise his moody stance as a mere wish for warmth. “What does that have to do with shifting?”
Kitan blinked twice, a little bit shocked. He had heard her, but the abrupt switch in topics simply did not register. The little gnometech gears in his head grinded together roughly and his thought processes halted for a moment. It wasn’t helped by the fact that, hunched over as she was, he had a reasonable view of her cleavage. His cheeks received a fresh wave of red.
He made another inelegant “Uh” sound and then proceeded to declare, “I can make illusions. They are only images though. There is no sound.” Kitan mulled over his many deficiencies, his face contorting. Was he really so incompetent? The way she said it, it seemed like it might be another thing all Kitsune could do. “They are very convincing otherwise though!” He claimed, in a desperate attempt to save face.
He considered showing her his aptitude for further proof. He thought of the white spirit. Would it be able to contact him if he did not cast again? He had learned so much already by following its guidance, but he wondered if he would be able to rely on it being the next to appear. He tugged his ear and turned his face to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
“Why?” He asked petulantly, sticking out his lower lip. He let go of his ear, which caught the wind and was pushed forwards toward Isis, to cross his arms. His other ear followed suit shortly after, and the little shifter shivered in response to the chill. It probably didn’t help that he had been sitting on the damp forest grass just moments ago. It did at least disguise his moody stance as a mere wish for warmth. “What does that have to do with shifting?”
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Isis, showing some of her true colors as no more than a playful critter, giggled as she caught the boy off guard. She girlishly put her hand over her toothy grin, bashfully eyeing him as he waited for her to do something amazing. He was indeed able to create illusions, something she had never heard of before in a half-breed. Now she was certain she knew why he could not shift like other shifters. It was because real kitsunes didn't shift like that either. Perhaps all she needed to do was show him the right way, and he would just magically be able to do it.
There was always a possibility, and, of course, she could never resist the opportunity to show herself to someone so willing. Still, she needed to stop for a moment to think about what she would appear to him as. It was easier if he thought of her for now as a youthful spirit like himself, and not as a wise and all-knowing goddess. Obviously, she was the latter. Nothing short of it. She really deserved to have at least seven or eight tails, and not a puny three.
Isis listened to his explanation, and then his question.
Then, she shifted. She blended in less than a second into a red fox bearing three tails. She did it again, this time into a rock. Then, she showed something that was almost, but not quite, her natural form. A half-fox with a youthful face appeared to him, covered in a little white robe of silk. She had long, red legs dipped in black. Her feet had clawed digits on the ends and her heels had risen. She stood to show him, clasping her hands together and twirling left and right so that the skirt of the robe flared. The fox bounced on her toes, giggling like a nymph struck with puppy love.
"Because that's how I do it! It's like an illusion, only real." It was a hard concept even for her. Isis wasn't really sure how she was able to shift, she just could. It took practice. The human was the most difficult form, so it was surprising to her that Kitan held it so naturally. Perhaps he was broken, and would never be able to shift at all.
That would make him not a kitsune, but a freak.
"It's like an illusion that you can touch, and feel, and be. I'm still me underneath," she said. "Now you try," her voice spoke with almost a commanding tone.
There was always a possibility, and, of course, she could never resist the opportunity to show herself to someone so willing. Still, she needed to stop for a moment to think about what she would appear to him as. It was easier if he thought of her for now as a youthful spirit like himself, and not as a wise and all-knowing goddess. Obviously, she was the latter. Nothing short of it. She really deserved to have at least seven or eight tails, and not a puny three.
Isis listened to his explanation, and then his question.
Then, she shifted. She blended in less than a second into a red fox bearing three tails. She did it again, this time into a rock. Then, she showed something that was almost, but not quite, her natural form. A half-fox with a youthful face appeared to him, covered in a little white robe of silk. She had long, red legs dipped in black. Her feet had clawed digits on the ends and her heels had risen. She stood to show him, clasping her hands together and twirling left and right so that the skirt of the robe flared. The fox bounced on her toes, giggling like a nymph struck with puppy love.
"Because that's how I do it! It's like an illusion, only real." It was a hard concept even for her. Isis wasn't really sure how she was able to shift, she just could. It took practice. The human was the most difficult form, so it was surprising to her that Kitan held it so naturally. Perhaps he was broken, and would never be able to shift at all.
That would make him not a kitsune, but a freak.
"It's like an illusion that you can touch, and feel, and be. I'm still me underneath," she said. "Now you try," her voice spoke with almost a commanding tone.
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan’s jaw dropped as she rapidly changed. Not only did she change into forms with fox elements, but she also turned into a rock. This was an utterly astounding facet of the power of illusion. Even his father, to Kitan’s mind one of the most well travelled and learned beings on the planet, had never mentioned that kitsune were so different from other shifters. Small wonder he hadn’t mastered it on his own!
A pair of birds fluttered overhead as Isis danced in half fox form. They chased each other around the treetops, their chirps aggressive and talon’s barred, perhaps in a fight for territory or a mate. Kitan didn’t notice them at all, so enthralled was he by what he had just witnessed and was now witnessing. Kitan’s mouth only now began to close itself. His had yet to take it all in. Kitan tried to put his thoughts into words, if only so the delicate ship of his thoughts might find safe harbor.
“So... it is a sort of illusion that fools all five senses. And not just other people’s,” He thought about that, putting a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “An illusion so good that it fools reality.” He sat there for several moments as if deciding something deep and personal. One could tell that behind his eyes, connections were being drawn and insights acquired.
“That sounds really impressive!” He declared triumphantly, hopping to his feet and balling his little hands into fists. His stance leaned him forward slightly, as if he sought to confront something. Unfortunately, no challenger presented themselves and he quickly deflated in response to her next line, letting his hands fall limply to his side.
Kitan tugged his ear for yet another time when she told him to try to shift. He had not yet told her about the delusions, and if he couldn’t even make anything but images how was he supposed to make an apparition so complex as to overwrite some of the basic laws of Pal Tahrenor? That seemed to be the realm of Eyropan archmages, not some humble hedge wizard like himself.
And yet... Isis couldn’t be that much older than he was. She looked about twenty, and danced and laughed like he did. While he was aware that he and, he could only assume, all kitsune aged more slowly than humans, he still figured the distance between them wasn’t unreasonable. If she could shift with such ease, why couldn’t he?
Though Kitan couldn’t claim there was no harm in trying thanks to his delusions, he doubted he would be able to live with himself if he decided anything less. He couldn’t stress it enough; all his life had been leading up to an encounter like this. A second chance might well never present itself. There had only been one real choice from the very start.
Kitan’s chest rose as he took in a deep breath of the crisp forest air. The scent of pines and damp grass flooded his nostrils, which Kitan found calm and reassuring. He had grown up out here. He was home.
The fox shifter walked over to the brook, heard the croaking of toads, and dropped to all fours as he had seen Isis do. He had never cast an illusion on himself before: around him, on his clothing, sure. But he had never seriously considered modifying his appearance directly, not beyond a few pranks on his father which had lasted mere seconds. Maybe, just maybe, that was the key.
He exhaled and closed his eyes. The sounds of the forest were all around him, and his ears twitched slightly in response to each one. Using them as a starting point, he focused on the form he wanted: that of a werefox, halfway between beast and man. He decided to add some extra tails just to impress Isis. Finally, he entered the part of the process he already understood, letting the power of magic overtake his other senses.
He opened his eyes. Within a moment, he was overjoyed. He had a clearly visible snout. Within another moment, he realized something was off. He could still feel the wind on his real features and he still smelled with his human nose. He raised his hand to confirm his new anatomy’s intangibility, but before his fingers even reached his snout he realized he had failed—his hand had a paw in the middle of it, but his human limbs were still as full as ever. The paw was just an illusion on its surface.
He sighed dejectedly and turned to Isis, eyes cast to the ground. “I didn’t do it.” He shuffled his tails around, both the real one and the two illusive ones. They brushed against each other, creating a soft, melancholy shuffling.
Wait.
Kitan perked up and spun to look at his three tails. He waved them around frantically, one powered by physical movement and the other two by how he thought they should act. Sure enough, when they brushed each other, they made noise. He tossed his right hand down to grab one.
It passed right through the illusion. The tail was not real. That minor setback hardly mattered to Kitan at the moment. He had made sound! Illusions that produced sound! Relief washed over him and brought tears to his green eyes. He had failed to shift, but had learned what might well be the first step. “I made illusions with sound!” He reported happily. “I can do it! One day I’ll be able to shift!”
Kitan giggled and stumbled backwards a bit, beset by the emotional turbulence of the day. Smiling a big, toothy grin, he threw a hand to his face and sat down. He wiped his tears on his sleeve and started laughing happily. All the while, he delighted in the noise his tails made as they brushed the earth and each other. Had he been looking, he might have noticed that his lack of focus on their appearance meant the two tails were already hardly phantoms.
He probably wouldn’t have cared, though. He could make noise.
A pair of birds fluttered overhead as Isis danced in half fox form. They chased each other around the treetops, their chirps aggressive and talon’s barred, perhaps in a fight for territory or a mate. Kitan didn’t notice them at all, so enthralled was he by what he had just witnessed and was now witnessing. Kitan’s mouth only now began to close itself. His had yet to take it all in. Kitan tried to put his thoughts into words, if only so the delicate ship of his thoughts might find safe harbor.
“So... it is a sort of illusion that fools all five senses. And not just other people’s,” He thought about that, putting a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “An illusion so good that it fools reality.” He sat there for several moments as if deciding something deep and personal. One could tell that behind his eyes, connections were being drawn and insights acquired.
“That sounds really impressive!” He declared triumphantly, hopping to his feet and balling his little hands into fists. His stance leaned him forward slightly, as if he sought to confront something. Unfortunately, no challenger presented themselves and he quickly deflated in response to her next line, letting his hands fall limply to his side.
Kitan tugged his ear for yet another time when she told him to try to shift. He had not yet told her about the delusions, and if he couldn’t even make anything but images how was he supposed to make an apparition so complex as to overwrite some of the basic laws of Pal Tahrenor? That seemed to be the realm of Eyropan archmages, not some humble hedge wizard like himself.
And yet... Isis couldn’t be that much older than he was. She looked about twenty, and danced and laughed like he did. While he was aware that he and, he could only assume, all kitsune aged more slowly than humans, he still figured the distance between them wasn’t unreasonable. If she could shift with such ease, why couldn’t he?
Though Kitan couldn’t claim there was no harm in trying thanks to his delusions, he doubted he would be able to live with himself if he decided anything less. He couldn’t stress it enough; all his life had been leading up to an encounter like this. A second chance might well never present itself. There had only been one real choice from the very start.
Kitan’s chest rose as he took in a deep breath of the crisp forest air. The scent of pines and damp grass flooded his nostrils, which Kitan found calm and reassuring. He had grown up out here. He was home.
The fox shifter walked over to the brook, heard the croaking of toads, and dropped to all fours as he had seen Isis do. He had never cast an illusion on himself before: around him, on his clothing, sure. But he had never seriously considered modifying his appearance directly, not beyond a few pranks on his father which had lasted mere seconds. Maybe, just maybe, that was the key.
He exhaled and closed his eyes. The sounds of the forest were all around him, and his ears twitched slightly in response to each one. Using them as a starting point, he focused on the form he wanted: that of a werefox, halfway between beast and man. He decided to add some extra tails just to impress Isis. Finally, he entered the part of the process he already understood, letting the power of magic overtake his other senses.
He opened his eyes. Within a moment, he was overjoyed. He had a clearly visible snout. Within another moment, he realized something was off. He could still feel the wind on his real features and he still smelled with his human nose. He raised his hand to confirm his new anatomy’s intangibility, but before his fingers even reached his snout he realized he had failed—his hand had a paw in the middle of it, but his human limbs were still as full as ever. The paw was just an illusion on its surface.
He sighed dejectedly and turned to Isis, eyes cast to the ground. “I didn’t do it.” He shuffled his tails around, both the real one and the two illusive ones. They brushed against each other, creating a soft, melancholy shuffling.
Wait.
Kitan perked up and spun to look at his three tails. He waved them around frantically, one powered by physical movement and the other two by how he thought they should act. Sure enough, when they brushed each other, they made noise. He tossed his right hand down to grab one.
It passed right through the illusion. The tail was not real. That minor setback hardly mattered to Kitan at the moment. He had made sound! Illusions that produced sound! Relief washed over him and brought tears to his green eyes. He had failed to shift, but had learned what might well be the first step. “I made illusions with sound!” He reported happily. “I can do it! One day I’ll be able to shift!”
Kitan giggled and stumbled backwards a bit, beset by the emotional turbulence of the day. Smiling a big, toothy grin, he threw a hand to his face and sat down. He wiped his tears on his sleeve and started laughing happily. All the while, he delighted in the noise his tails made as they brushed the earth and each other. Had he been looking, he might have noticed that his lack of focus on their appearance meant the two tails were already hardly phantoms.
He probably wouldn’t have cared, though. He could make noise.
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Kitan's understanding that the shift was simply an illusion that fooled the senses seemed accurate. He was somehow able to grasp the idea more than she could. As a rock, she was blind, she was simple, and she was calm. As a young half-fox her senses were heightened, and she fooled not only other people but her own mind. Taking the form of a younger self made her more likely to make mistakes and fall prey to her own emotions; it was evidence that her brain was affected by the shift too, or at the very least was convinced that it was.
His impressed reaction to her show made a swift grin crawl across her vixen face. Kitan was too easy for her to prey upon. Isis could see that she already had him in the palm of her hand, and they had known each other for less than ten minutes. Her mind began to churn, trying to find a spot in one of her many plots for him to fill. She needed more. He must have had other skills apart from the illusion. She would have to wait.
Isis stopped dancing as the boy prepared himself to change form. It was at about this point when she felt near certain that he really was just a werefox, and not a true kitsune in disguise. Who had birthed this child of Inari? They looked so similar that for a fleeting moment she wondered if one of her parents had been untruthful to her. This curiosity was quickly pushed away, for many kitsune were colored as she was, and her parents had been native to areas much too far from here. That left the question of where he had come from open for debate. Considering his level of power, it made Isis wonder if he had been born of a powerful true kitsune. In her mind, this was the only way to explain his natural talents.
Those natural talents would be on display for her in moments.
He shifted, sort of. Isis could see the form come, and then go. Then, with as much of a start as Kitan, she noticed the three tails behind him. They made sound together, which he was far more excited about than she was. She stood, quite lost for words, watching the three tails move about. So excited was the boy that the tails quickly began to dissipate. Isis tried to smile, but it fell away quickly to awe, and then twisted itself into a sharp envy.
Inari, that fool of a fox. How could she have so blatantly given this child, this abomination the ability to simply give himself tails? The boy probably had no concept whatsoever on the significance of her own three. He had simply willed more into existence, and for a brief moment, he was like her to anyone without a sense of decency.
Isis had tried before to give herself more tails. The tails, the same as kitsune rank, were gifts by the Goddess Inari herself. Isis, one of Inari's enemies, would never again be gifted another tail except as perhaps a joke. It did not matter if she was the most powerful creature on Pal Tahrenor, she would always have three. Three chances. Three lives. Whenever Isis tried to will more tails into existence, it was as if Inari was staring down from the Astral Realm upon her. It was as if Inari herself willed the offending tails away, and Isis could never hold them for long. They were not so unnatural to her form that they should be so difficult to maintain. A human face was much further than her true form. So then, why were the tails so difficult?
More importantly, why then was Kitan able to create more for himself? It made so little sense.
"You mustn't make more tails!" Her voice lit the air like a screeching owl. Isis caught herself and adjusted for the part. She tucked her tails under her robe, as if in submission. "Inari will be angry with you," she said softly, moving quickly toward Kitan and standing over him as if to protect him. "Our tails are sacred things. To make more is to defy Inari herself!"
Isis had no idea if Inari would actually care about the tails. From experience, she knew that Inari had random things she did and did not care about. Sometimes Inari was male, sometimes female. Sometimes tails probably mattered, and other times they probably didn't. Kitsunes had never been known for being consistent; it made sense that their God wasn't either.
His impressed reaction to her show made a swift grin crawl across her vixen face. Kitan was too easy for her to prey upon. Isis could see that she already had him in the palm of her hand, and they had known each other for less than ten minutes. Her mind began to churn, trying to find a spot in one of her many plots for him to fill. She needed more. He must have had other skills apart from the illusion. She would have to wait.
Isis stopped dancing as the boy prepared himself to change form. It was at about this point when she felt near certain that he really was just a werefox, and not a true kitsune in disguise. Who had birthed this child of Inari? They looked so similar that for a fleeting moment she wondered if one of her parents had been untruthful to her. This curiosity was quickly pushed away, for many kitsune were colored as she was, and her parents had been native to areas much too far from here. That left the question of where he had come from open for debate. Considering his level of power, it made Isis wonder if he had been born of a powerful true kitsune. In her mind, this was the only way to explain his natural talents.
Those natural talents would be on display for her in moments.
He shifted, sort of. Isis could see the form come, and then go. Then, with as much of a start as Kitan, she noticed the three tails behind him. They made sound together, which he was far more excited about than she was. She stood, quite lost for words, watching the three tails move about. So excited was the boy that the tails quickly began to dissipate. Isis tried to smile, but it fell away quickly to awe, and then twisted itself into a sharp envy.
Inari, that fool of a fox. How could she have so blatantly given this child, this abomination the ability to simply give himself tails? The boy probably had no concept whatsoever on the significance of her own three. He had simply willed more into existence, and for a brief moment, he was like her to anyone without a sense of decency.
Isis had tried before to give herself more tails. The tails, the same as kitsune rank, were gifts by the Goddess Inari herself. Isis, one of Inari's enemies, would never again be gifted another tail except as perhaps a joke. It did not matter if she was the most powerful creature on Pal Tahrenor, she would always have three. Three chances. Three lives. Whenever Isis tried to will more tails into existence, it was as if Inari was staring down from the Astral Realm upon her. It was as if Inari herself willed the offending tails away, and Isis could never hold them for long. They were not so unnatural to her form that they should be so difficult to maintain. A human face was much further than her true form. So then, why were the tails so difficult?
More importantly, why then was Kitan able to create more for himself? It made so little sense.
"You mustn't make more tails!" Her voice lit the air like a screeching owl. Isis caught herself and adjusted for the part. She tucked her tails under her robe, as if in submission. "Inari will be angry with you," she said softly, moving quickly toward Kitan and standing over him as if to protect him. "Our tails are sacred things. To make more is to defy Inari herself!"
Isis had no idea if Inari would actually care about the tails. From experience, she knew that Inari had random things she did and did not care about. Sometimes Inari was male, sometimes female. Sometimes tails probably mattered, and other times they probably didn't. Kitsunes had never been known for being consistent; it made sense that their God wasn't either.
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
The shock of Isis’ vehement denouncement of what he perceived as an accomplishment almost immediately broke what little remained of Kitan’s focus. His tails dissipated entirely, vanishing like dust stolen by the wind.
Kitan hunched over slightly, distraught. His mouth hung open and his eyes peered up at her. He did not know these things she was talking about. Tails as divine blessings? Somebody named Inari getting angry at people with multiple tails? Was that why she was so nervous about hers?
“Who-” He stuttered, as was by now commonplace, “But- you made tails! If they aren’t illusions how did you get yours?”
He had thought he was starting to understand his heritage. Isis had seemed accepting of his thoughts on shifting, and he had unknowingly mimicked his heritage in many ways. He had dared to hope that he could learn all the answers he so desperately sought. Now he suddenly faced more questions, and was trapped wondering how long it would take to sort through these new issues.
“And who is Inari? I’ve never heard that name before in all my life.”
Kitan hunched over slightly, distraught. His mouth hung open and his eyes peered up at her. He did not know these things she was talking about. Tails as divine blessings? Somebody named Inari getting angry at people with multiple tails? Was that why she was so nervous about hers?
“Who-” He stuttered, as was by now commonplace, “But- you made tails! If they aren’t illusions how did you get yours?”
He had thought he was starting to understand his heritage. Isis had seemed accepting of his thoughts on shifting, and he had unknowingly mimicked his heritage in many ways. He had dared to hope that he could learn all the answers he so desperately sought. Now he suddenly faced more questions, and was trapped wondering how long it would take to sort through these new issues.
“And who is Inari? I’ve never heard that name before in all my life.”
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
Isis hovered over him, displeased with the whole situation. Apparently not all werefoxes were created equal. This boy had mysterious power within him. Perhaps it had come at the cost of his inability to shift properly. She began to wonder if he had simply received a higher dose of kitsune than the others. Now she was almost certain that he had come from either a very powerful kitsune, or perhaps a true kitsune mixing with a werefox.
Such pairings was something she found disgusting when they produced children. She would never do such a thing. Only males would ever commit that atrocity.
Kitan thought her tails were illusions. In a split second, she decided whether or not to fool him into thinking they were; there was no benefit to that lie. "These are real," she said. "Inari gave them to me." Here Isis realized she would also need to decide if she was to play a nogitsune or a myobu. Of course, myobu was always a safe bet. They were do-gooders and devout worshippers. Kitan could easily prove useful to her, but his innocence could only be preyed upon if he believed she was also innocent.
"Wow," Isis was calm, but surprised at Kitan's lack of knowledge. Just how much had he learned about himself from a dwarf? Apparently not much. "There's so much to show you. You're not in a hurry are you?" To explain an entire religion would take time. To explain shifting properly would take even longer. Such things were necessary to befriend this critter.
Isis batted her vixen lashes. She ran her clawed hand through her hair, and stepped back from him with a long gaze. Her lips were parted, and her gaze just sideways enough to hint at what could be read as mere curiosity, or much more.
"I have to show you my world." She smiled, and for a moment the cheese of that statement made her worry that he might leave.
Such pairings was something she found disgusting when they produced children. She would never do such a thing. Only males would ever commit that atrocity.
Kitan thought her tails were illusions. In a split second, she decided whether or not to fool him into thinking they were; there was no benefit to that lie. "These are real," she said. "Inari gave them to me." Here Isis realized she would also need to decide if she was to play a nogitsune or a myobu. Of course, myobu was always a safe bet. They were do-gooders and devout worshippers. Kitan could easily prove useful to her, but his innocence could only be preyed upon if he believed she was also innocent.
"Wow," Isis was calm, but surprised at Kitan's lack of knowledge. Just how much had he learned about himself from a dwarf? Apparently not much. "There's so much to show you. You're not in a hurry are you?" To explain an entire religion would take time. To explain shifting properly would take even longer. Such things were necessary to befriend this critter.
Isis batted her vixen lashes. She ran her clawed hand through her hair, and stepped back from him with a long gaze. Her lips were parted, and her gaze just sideways enough to hint at what could be read as mere curiosity, or much more.
"I have to show you my world." She smiled, and for a moment the cheese of that statement made her worry that he might leave.
shaam hai, jaam hai, aur hai nasha
Re: The Kitsune's Legacy
“No, I’m not really in a hurry.” Kitan replied. He stood up and moved over to a nearby fallen tree, where he sat back down. The moss which coated the log was soft but damp. His tunic was thick enough that he didn’t immediately regret it. “I was just run out of town with some friends, so we decided to hide for a little while. They are werewolves and decided to go out hunting. And hunting takes a long time if you hunt large game, my dad used to do that. My dwarf dad, I mean.” He held out an arm to stabilize himself, and his sense of balance saw his palm draw a little circle in the air before he was fully secure.
Some of the hairs on his tail had gotten caught under him, so he tried to wiggle them free as she continued. This proved fruitless and Kitan was forced to hop onto the log such that he was crouched flawlessly atop it. Only then did his full attention return to Isis.
“I want to see it! I want to know everything about our species.” He jittered excitedly about on the log, resembling an overeager spider. He whimsically sprung from the fallen tree to hang from a low branch. Dangling there, he turned his head to her and asked, “How should I start?”
Realizing he was getting overeager, he sheepishly dropped from the branch. “There sure does seem to be a lot.”
Some of the hairs on his tail had gotten caught under him, so he tried to wiggle them free as she continued. This proved fruitless and Kitan was forced to hop onto the log such that he was crouched flawlessly atop it. Only then did his full attention return to Isis.
“I want to see it! I want to know everything about our species.” He jittered excitedly about on the log, resembling an overeager spider. He whimsically sprung from the fallen tree to hang from a low branch. Dangling there, he turned his head to her and asked, “How should I start?”
Realizing he was getting overeager, he sheepishly dropped from the branch. “There sure does seem to be a lot.”