charlie
Charlie waits as her daughter shifts, her fyrhund body still but not stiff, heat shimmering faintly from the dark red-black of her fur while her ears tip forward and her bright blue eyes stay fixed on Knell. There’s no rush in her, no nudge of correction, no worried yip to hurry the shape along, because this is Knell’s gate to open and Charlie would rather chew off her own tail than rob her daughter of the first glorious, ridiculous tumble through it.
When Knell lands in a heap and comes up all crackling fur, bright eyes, and astonished little paws, Charlie’s mouth parts into a toothy, wolfish grin that shows every fang she has to offer, pride rolling through her so hot and honey-thick that it almost feels like another kind of fire beneath her skin. Her tail gives one pleased wag, then another, sweeping loose leaves and bramble-debris behind her in a lazy arc as she lowers her head when Knell bounds close, accepting the nuzzle against her larger leg with the extravagant dignity of a queen receiving tribute from the cutest possible disaster. Bending down, she gives the kitsune an experimental sniff from ear to shoulder, nose twitching at the new-hot scent of smoke, child, demigoddess, and something wonderfully, wickedly wild threaded through it all.
A low woof rumbles under Charlie’s breath, warm and approving, and though the sound doesn’t have words in it, it has plenty of meaning as she turns her head to watch Knell bounce ahead with all that new animal grace rushing through her limbs like she’s finally found a body that knows how to keep up with her mind. Charlie lets her go a few paces, because what is the point of having paws and a nose and a whole world full of secrets if someone keeps you pressed neatly to their side like a decoration?
Then the fyrhund drops her muzzle to the ground, ears angling as she sorts through the storm of scent that had been invisible a moment before: damp bark, old leaves, cold earth, the sharp green bite of snapped stems, Knell’s smoky little trail blazing everywhere at once, and beneath it all, thin but present, the warm, nervous trace of blink hares where they’d slipped through the brambles. Charlie sniffs slowly along the path, circling once where the smell tangles around roots and thorn, then noses toward the direction where the scent pulls clearer, her tail lifting in a confident curve as she glances back with glittering blue eyes to make sure Knell is watching before she starts forward, quiet now, letting the trail teach what her mouth can’t.
When Knell lands in a heap and comes up all crackling fur, bright eyes, and astonished little paws, Charlie’s mouth parts into a toothy, wolfish grin that shows every fang she has to offer, pride rolling through her so hot and honey-thick that it almost feels like another kind of fire beneath her skin. Her tail gives one pleased wag, then another, sweeping loose leaves and bramble-debris behind her in a lazy arc as she lowers her head when Knell bounds close, accepting the nuzzle against her larger leg with the extravagant dignity of a queen receiving tribute from the cutest possible disaster. Bending down, she gives the kitsune an experimental sniff from ear to shoulder, nose twitching at the new-hot scent of smoke, child, demigoddess, and something wonderfully, wickedly wild threaded through it all.
A low woof rumbles under Charlie’s breath, warm and approving, and though the sound doesn’t have words in it, it has plenty of meaning as she turns her head to watch Knell bounce ahead with all that new animal grace rushing through her limbs like she’s finally found a body that knows how to keep up with her mind. Charlie lets her go a few paces, because what is the point of having paws and a nose and a whole world full of secrets if someone keeps you pressed neatly to their side like a decoration?
Then the fyrhund drops her muzzle to the ground, ears angling as she sorts through the storm of scent that had been invisible a moment before: damp bark, old leaves, cold earth, the sharp green bite of snapped stems, Knell’s smoky little trail blazing everywhere at once, and beneath it all, thin but present, the warm, nervous trace of blink hares where they’d slipped through the brambles. Charlie sniffs slowly along the path, circling once where the smell tangles around roots and thorn, then noses toward the direction where the scent pulls clearer, her tail lifting in a confident curve as she glances back with glittering blue eyes to make sure Knell is watching before she starts forward, quiet now, letting the trail teach what her mouth can’t.
so hey, let's be friends
I'm dying to see how this one ends
I'm dying to see how this one ends
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
