elements of a harmony

The evening air is cooler than the sweltering heat of midday, the smoke in the air seeming to dissipate with the receding light. Fires have eaten away at the forest all season, leaving behind patches of burnt earth and charred trunks. The smell of ash permeates through the woods, an ever-present companion to the inhabitants. It makes hunting difficult. Even if she hadn't nearly burned down the forest with her molten tiger shift, the acute sense of smell is useless amidst the overwhelming smell of ashen remains, and the wildlife has become skittish. 

Her boots pad silently down the bank, disguised by the low hum of water over rocks. Silver daggers in hand, she searches intently for the telltale chatter or splash of glotters, her bloodlust a dull ache in the back of her mind. It's just enough to perk her senses - to put her body on alert for signs of prey - but not enough to make her brazen or impulsive, an encouraging reminder of her needs and the urge to taste blood, one she's never stupid enough to ignore. 

Thal pauses for a moment, her head tilting so that the leaf speckled sunlight catches the blonde of her hair. Intense blue eyes search the river ahead while her tail stills behind her, waiting to pick out an incriminating sound between the melodic hum of water and the lilting dialogue of the forest around her.

we care so much until we don't

Thalassa

when rome's in ruins, we are the lions

Smoke hangs thin over the Stone Symphony, its haunted melody slipping through charred trunks and ash-dusted needles as evening cools the scorched earth. The forest smells of sap and cinder and damp stone, and through it moves a shape darker than the smoke itself.

Vesper prowls low in his tide jaguar form, black fur swallowing the fading light while rosettes glow faintly across his flanks like scattered constellations. Massive paws settle with careful weight, dampening the brittle crunch beneath him, shoulders rolling in a fluid, silent rhythm. Upwind, the air carries only river and ruin; whatever else stalks these banks is lost to smoke and distance; the world a strangely silent place without his telepathy filling in the gaps, lost as it is to him while shifted.

A flicker ahead catches his attention; the big cat stills, then surges. A fox breaks from the underbrush in a streak of russet, but he is already airborne, muscle and gravity converging as he slams it to the ground. A strangled scream cuts short beneath the river’s song as his jaws close around its throat, teeth finding pulse and crushing it. The small body kicks once and falls slack. He holds until the forest goes quiet again, blood dark against darker fur, rosettes pulsing softly as he stands over his kill, the river singing on as if nothing at all has happened.

free of the colosseums

The sound she hears isn't that of prey. A rustle of leaves and the crush of dried sticks snaps sharply to her left. Her ears pick up the quietest of dying cries, a life ended in an instant. There's no sympathy for the creature, although an ounce of respect and tampered jealousy for the predator flashes for the briefest of moments. 

Thal scans the surrounding area to ensure her cover hasn't been blown, noting that a few birds have gone silent in the direct proximity. The soft ruffle of feathers tells her some have chosen to find safer nesting areas. However, the right side of the river appears undisturbed and Thal adjusts her hunt to focus where the prey hasn't been startled. 

Slightly annoyed, her tail flicks sharply as she follows the signs of life across the singing waterway that glimmers in the fading sunlight. Her boots pick rocks that peak from the current, dancing soundlessly from foothold to foothold until she's standing on the opposite side. Tilting her head, she pauses for another second, fairly certain she can make out the faint splash of something up ahead. She adjusts her hold on her dagger, gaze flicking once to where the predator had been to confirm it hadn't mustered the courage to take on larger prey before sweeping her eyes back towards the river ahead. Looking past undergrowth and mossy rocks, she proceeds forward in search of her own kill.

we care so much until we don't

Thalassa

a cold shoulder at closin' time

The fox slackens beneath him, and once he’s certain the pulse has stilled entirely, the jaguar’s massive frame loosens and reshapes, constellations collapsing inward as black fur gives way to pale skin and moonlight hair. He straightens where the predator stood a moment before, breath steady, blood dark against his hands as he reaches down to gather the russet bundle by the scruff. He studies it with a slow, crooked grin, turning the limp body slightly as if assessing craftsmanship rather than carrion, and decides it would make a beautifully pointed offering left on Niki’s doorstep; tasteful, seasonal, and just large enough to amuse him.

He shifts his grip to sling the fox more comfortably when something brushes the edge of him—not a thought fully formed, not a voice—but the faintest pressure against the outer rim of his magic. Distant, diluted, like fingertips dragged lightly across glass.

Vesper stills. Blue eyes lift from red fur and arrow into the trees, narrowing slightly as he reaches without reaching, testing the perimeter of his range. The sensation fades almost as quickly as it came, thin as smoke, leaving him to wonder whether he imagined it, whether it was the mind he thought it was, or whether the forest’s restless mood has begun to echo in places it shouldn’t.

you were beggin' me to stay 'til the sun rose

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

A burst of movement reveals several Speaking Squirrels scrambling into view, tails flicking wildly as they shout with infectious enthusiasm.

“Come!” one cries, sprinting ahead before stopping abruptly. “Follow!” another adds, pointing in a direction that leads nowhere of consequence.

They repeat the routine endlessly, utterly convinced of their own helpfulness, darting just out of reach and laughing as though the chase itself is the point.

---

Speaking Squirrels Areas Found: Hollowed Grounds, King's End, Greatwood — Common Appearing like a slightly larger version of a common ground squirrel, the speaking squirrels - as their name suggests - can speak. Or they appear to. Their vocabulary is limited to "yes", "no", and "follow me!" Though it is entirely unclear whether or not they understand actually speech and the words they are saying, they nonetheless will answer questions and will lead wayward souls further astray. Calls of "follow me!" have led a number of victims to their death, as the squirrels have absolutely no idea where they are going. Challenge Rating: Easy HP: 38 | To Hit: +30 | Dmg: 9 Movement: Scurry 30 ft.; Climb 30 ft.; Leap 15 ft. SPECIAL SKILLS Limited Speech: vocabulary is only “yes,” “no,” and “follow me!” and it’s unclear they understand the words; Misleading Guide: will confidently lead wayward souls astray without any sense of direction; Chorus Echo: nearby squirrels pick up the cry, creating a misleading chorus from multiple directions; Gap Squeeze: slips through holes and hedge tunnels too small for most pursuers

TRAITS Slightly Larger Ground Squirrel: looks like an upsized ground squirrel with bright, curious eyes; Tree & Wall Climber: agile on trunks, ruins, and hedges; Hedgerow Local: nests in the twists and hedgerows, popping in and out of tiny gaps; Fearful but Curious: skittish at noise yet drawn to travelers and their shiny gear ACTIONS Chatter Reply: answers any question with “yes” or “no,” regardless of sense; “Follow Me!”: darts a few bounds, stops to look back, then scurries on, luring travelers deeper; Tail Flag: flicks its tail to signal others or draw attention to a false turn; Dart & Vanish: bolts up a trunk or into a hedge-gap, reappearing on a different branch a moment later

Her progress is halted by the sudden appearance of three rodents bursting from the treeline. Cursing quietly under her breath, she startles back into a crouch, teeth bared against the insult of their interruption - particularly as one has the gall to stop in her bath and squeak "Come!" They're not the large, meaty creatures she'd been looking for, but instinct has her moving. 

Thal throws a dagger to pin one in place and darts forward to reach for a second. Her hand snags at the fluffy tail, something that sounds like it was meant to be "Follow!" turning into a shriek that's silenced by the crisp slice of a blade. Blood splatters against damp stones, the Symphony streaked in red when she rises from her crouch, but the third squirrel is already gone, having vanished into the trees while she was busy. 

But the success isn't without its cost. The bruises along her face have long healed, but the scabs beneath her black sleeves crack, the exertion pulling at the wounds winding up to her back. She hisses out a breath, looking down at the new scratches the squirrel had managed to score along the back of her hand. 

Narrowing her eyes at the new addition, she sucks in a long breath to calm the burning of reopened wounds, licking her tongue along the shallow lines of blood before rising. Still holding her kill by the tail, she retrieves the second body from the bankside. Her boots scuff softly when she moves. Intentional stealth might be abandoned, but the natural quietness remains, the whisper of leather through water. 

She sheaths one dagger and pulls the other from the head of the rodent, blood oozing from the gaping hole when it dangles from her fingers. Warm satisfaction calms the restless urge to delve into the squirrels while Thal scans the forest around her. The fading adrenaline widens her vision to assess for other risks, taking in the silence that's fallen - not that she cares. Her eyes are searching for a place to enjoy her meal while pointedly ignoring the lingering ache along her arm and back, mouth beginning to water with anticipation.

we care so much until we don't

Thalassa

a cold shoulder at closin' time

The shrill chorus carries easily over the river’s melody, and Vesper’s head turns before the first word has fully dissolved into the trees. The mimicry is unmistakable—those insufferable little evangelists of nonsense—and he exhales softly through his nose before across the water, something sharpens.

Thalassa's mind finds him not in clarity but in contour, a familiar edge at the boundary of his reach; heat coiled tight beneath control, irritation pricked with satisfaction, and beneath it the faint, metallic sting of reopened skin. It isn’t subtle, but it never has been with her. Even diluted by distance, her presence moves through him like a remembered scar pressed by accident.

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly as he gathers the fox more securely in one hand, the easy amusement from moments ago thinning into something cooler. There is unfinished business threaded between them, dense and knotted, and the river would make a dramatic enough stage for it, but he has no appetite for dramatics tonight. He can already imagine the shift in her if she sensed him, mild annoyance honing into something serrated, thorned and deliberate.

Without announcing himself, without even granting the courtesy of visible retreat, Vesper lets the air fold around him. Shadow gathers at his heels, light bending just slightly out of true as he misty-steps away from the riverbank, reappearing deeper within the trees where the Stone Symphony’s song is softer and her thoughts fade once more into indistinct distance.

~FIN

you were beggin' me to stay 'til the sun rose

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3