[Training] you are iron

DEIMOS

the resurrected sword

The tiger form was entirely foreign and new, alterations and adaptations all over again. Beyond the ears he hadn’t tried anything else – and that had been something out of his control – so on a whim, on a meticulous consideration along the rimes of winter, on the steps of his house, he altered. The shape was massive and broad, something he would’ve been accustomed to simply by the segments of his normal, human form, but this came with fur. His broken familiarity with tigers, however, had been accustomed to orange fur, this came with ivory and grey, patchworks of silver, nearly blue in some tips. He lifted a paw once or twice simply to study the stretch of unfamiliar hues and colors; reminders of frost, of mountains, of nostalgia pin-pricking its way over his mind.

So, out of habit, and because the morning had stretched into afternoon, he meandered down the lanes and streets, passing by in his form, unruffled and unrepentant by any bizarre insinuations of a tiger roaming its eaves and hills, straight to the bakery.

But instead of aligning himself at the front, he molded his way along the backyard, practicing either the art of stealth, creeping quietly, or out of pure amusement, knocking and chasing a few pieces of snow back and forth along the pads of his paws. Then, before he was distracted anymore by the tides of potential, he strolled towards Amalia’s back door, scratching at the wood.

still standing

not because you can

but because you have to