Got the dreamer's disease
Happy to let the bloody argument fade, especially in favor of much more even keel topics like what dangerous creature you can transform into, Fern is all ears as Nova relays tide jaguar. She appropriately ooohs at this, proudly adding a touch of her knowledge. "One of the few big cats that can't rely on nighttime to help them hunt." An interesting problem for them, although they clearly get along just fine even without the benefit of darkness and camouflage. Sometimes, dangerous things don't need to hide to be successful.
As for herself, Fern doesn't need much time to consider, having thought about it often. "Probably, but I haven't met it yet." Not for lack of training, gallavanting around the house on her hands and knees, making all manner of animal noises as if this alone could summon it forth. Both her parents have done some manner of explaining how to tap into the sensation of shifting skin, but because I want to figure out how to write it for the first time it hasn't happened yet. She isn't worried, yet, because she thinks maybe it's just a bit shy, which she can understand. "But my mom's an Ancient, and I don't have horns or a tail, sooo since my dad is an Attuned, I probably take after him. He can turn into a dog and we play fetch!"
Pleasant conversation about shifts becomes impossible once the birds, and later the cat, are compelled to act against their own will. Fern leaps dramatically off the bench and whirls around, cheeks puffy with a red anger that's rising to color her whole face, small fists balling at her sides as she scowls back at Nova and the cat that's been yanked back to her lap in an obvious continuation of broken choice. "YOU'RE RUDE!" she fires back, all previous vocabulary lost to a child's sputtering emotional response.
A strange, hot sensation crawls up her spine and prickles beneath her hair, something shifting beneath her skin hard enough to make her stomach clench and churn. Adrenaline rises like its own shift inside her, pupils widening with the base instinct that exists in nearly everything that's living, fight or flight. "How would you like it if I controlled YOU?!?" One hand lifts like a small claw, palm up and fingers faintly curled, as she tries to do just that. She concentrates, hard, attempting to assert her will over Nova. She imagines the woman stiffening on the bench, head lolling back, bending into uncomfortable ranges of her body as proof of how awful it is. Except, nothing happens, and Fern is left grunting with mounting frustration as the cat remains trapped on her lap.
"You're THE WORST!" she declares suddenly, rushing forward to try and shoo the cat free by her own hand, since her will isn't enough, and then dash away back towards where Isla should still be nearby. Instead, Fern's assault turns into talon and wing, a shrill cry parting from a half-ajar beak as the osprey beneath her skin appears for the first time. It's an awkward shuffle of feathers and feet, the raptor's wings flared tall for balance and threat, one taloned foot clinging to the bench edge while the other kicks out at Nova, while wide and startled amber eyes stare at the woman.
As for herself, Fern doesn't need much time to consider, having thought about it often. "Probably, but I haven't met it yet." Not for lack of training, gallavanting around the house on her hands and knees, making all manner of animal noises as if this alone could summon it forth. Both her parents have done some manner of explaining how to tap into the sensation of shifting skin, but because I want to figure out how to write it for the first time it hasn't happened yet. She isn't worried, yet, because she thinks maybe it's just a bit shy, which she can understand. "But my mom's an Ancient, and I don't have horns or a tail, sooo since my dad is an Attuned, I probably take after him. He can turn into a dog and we play fetch!"
Pleasant conversation about shifts becomes impossible once the birds, and later the cat, are compelled to act against their own will. Fern leaps dramatically off the bench and whirls around, cheeks puffy with a red anger that's rising to color her whole face, small fists balling at her sides as she scowls back at Nova and the cat that's been yanked back to her lap in an obvious continuation of broken choice. "YOU'RE RUDE!" she fires back, all previous vocabulary lost to a child's sputtering emotional response.
A strange, hot sensation crawls up her spine and prickles beneath her hair, something shifting beneath her skin hard enough to make her stomach clench and churn. Adrenaline rises like its own shift inside her, pupils widening with the base instinct that exists in nearly everything that's living, fight or flight. "How would you like it if I controlled YOU?!?" One hand lifts like a small claw, palm up and fingers faintly curled, as she tries to do just that. She concentrates, hard, attempting to assert her will over Nova. She imagines the woman stiffening on the bench, head lolling back, bending into uncomfortable ranges of her body as proof of how awful it is. Except, nothing happens, and Fern is left grunting with mounting frustration as the cat remains trapped on her lap.
"You're THE WORST!" she declares suddenly, rushing forward to try and shoo the cat free by her own hand, since her will isn't enough, and then dash away back towards where Isla should still be nearby. Instead, Fern's assault turns into talon and wing, a shrill cry parting from a half-ajar beak as the osprey beneath her skin appears for the first time. It's an awkward shuffle of feathers and feet, the raptor's wings flared tall for balance and threat, one taloned foot clinging to the bench edge while the other kicks out at Nova, while wide and startled amber eyes stare at the woman.
Fern
This world is gonna pull through, don't give up
