† Mave ❅ The Snow Leopard ❅ 26 ❅ Female ❅ The Catacombs (Beneath the Old Wooden City)
Tagged: Other Shifters
Mentioned: All shifters, rats(?)
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_____Besides the soft murmur of Misha to the towering dark form of Vasily, the cavern was quiet. Not silent, though. Mave's ears, more sensitive than a non-shifter's, could easily pick up on the soft sound of water trickling down the cave walls. They also picked up on the footsteps of her companions, which had started to grow familiar— a distinctly odd sensation, to be familiar with such things. She had begun to recognize the irregular, darting movements of Misha and the proud, striding walk of Leo. She knew that treading near Alex would make her partial to the occasional grumble, and she knew that if she made her way over to Vasily, she would be immersed in a pine-y, not at all unpleasant scent. She hadn't needed to be familiar with people like this in a long, long time— it felt invasive, almost, the way they had implanted these features in her mind over the course of a mere week. Cyrus was less familiar, having arrived so recently, but she suspected she would soon grow just as familiar with his steady pace and sharp scent. It made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn't quite identify, and she quickened her pace somewhat to draw ahead of them and the sense of group-ness, though not fast enough to openly broadcast her distaste— she was never one for making enemies.
_____Walking past the decorated burials, Mave felt her skin crawl. She wasn't one to judge another's culture, but personally she would never understand a desire to be separated from the earth in such a permanent manner. She wasn't a believer in the various gods— if each clan had one of their own she figured they meant about as much as an imaginary friend— but the idea of a nice, strong tree growing over her resting place was more appealing to her than strangers watching her cheeks leather for decades behind glass. She noted some of the others pausing to take a look, and feeling again uncomfortable with such unison, moved on as though she had never taken note.
_____As they traversed further into the bowels of the earth, the light from the entrance grew dimmer and dimmer, until she knew that even with her superior night vision, her weaker human-form eyes were only able to see clearly due to Vasily's lamp. She had tried to hold back from shifting, hoping to preserve her power as a last resort in the case of needing to escape her "comrades", but that little plan held minute significance in comparison to her revulsion at the idea of depending on someone else's firelight. She shifted smoothly into her leopard form and immediately felt a sense of... not comfort, but security. No, she wasn't more comfortable— in this form, she could hear the scuttling of a rat every so often as they passed a forgone pathway and the water which grew steadily higher with each passing step reached further up her body now, and those things didn't make her comfortable; but on the flip side, she could easily outrun any of her still-human companions, and her thick fur protected her from the chill of the meltwater. Most importantly, she could see. With the lamplight, it was like broad daylight for her feline eyes, and she finally allowed herself to fall back closer to the group, finding herself more secure now— both with her ability to evade any potential attack and with the division of species that now barred her from the sense of camaraderie she feared was developing in the party. As she padded alongside them, though, she found her leopard hearing made her privy to even more of their individual quirks. As they walked, the steady swishing of Vasily's cloak through the stream acted as a sort of marching beat, and she heard Alex's light steps falling behind every so often. But now they were the loud, clumsy sounds of humans, and they were not comparable to the perfect silence of her broad, strong paws sweeping gracefully through the water, her long, elegant tail keeping her in perfect balance— all wonderfully inhuman.
_____When they reached the crossway, she didn't hesitate more than a moment. She remembered the instructions clear as day— figured, since they were pretty much the only guideline they had received— keep going down. She wasn't crazy about this mission, but she figured that if the king wanted them dead, this would be a real complicated way of doing it, and it was better to trust a direction than to have none. Far more importantly, though, she was thinking in terms of survival, and she knew that if they always chose the path that lead most downward, then should she need to escape, she would only ever need to choose the path which went most upward. So, after her brief moment of bewilderment, she continued on toward the river. It hardly occurred to her to worry if her companions would be unable to follow. She didn't pay much mind to the rat flowing by her feet, either— she was no stranger to dead prey. But something else caught the attention of that 6th sense that her mother had cultivated into blade-like sharpness in her— that instinct for survival, and just as Vasily's steps slowed, she heard the clattering of claws. She opened her mouth to scent the air and immediately wished she hadn't— the smell was overpowering and thick— if she had been of a weaker stomach, she would have gagged. She turned to see Alex stiffen, and through the darkness behind her, she saw them all. Hordes of rats, wriggling bodies squirming over each other, white foam dripping from their pointed snouts.
_____For a moment, the chaos overwhelmed her. She watched Alex shift, eyes blown wide with panic as she raced up the wrong tunnel, heard Vasily's knife scraping against the stone as it pierced their first enemy, felt the deafening roar of the rodents growing closer, and her paws felt like iron posts anchored to the ground, the small river swirling around her paws as she sank her claws into the mossy floor.
"Whatever direction we're going in, go NOW."
The command reverberated off the cave walls, and she closed her eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
_____Such a short breath— not even a second, but her eyes opened, cold and green and focused. "Down." She announced in a clear, even tone, loud enough that all of these shifter-ears would hear her, and even if they didn't, her decision was made obvious as she leapt toward the river, accidentally meeting the eyes of the lynx as she launched herself forward, feeling the faintest twinge of regret. She had no qualms about continuing on her own, should she be left to herself— she was used to that— but choosing any direction other than down sounded like a death sentence to her, and she felt an innate connection to the fellow feline who had also clearly felt more comfortable as a snow cat than a person. It would be a shame to lose her to these tunnels. Not enough of a shame, of course, for Maveric to waste a moment in pursuing her own safety.
_____Walking past the decorated burials, Mave felt her skin crawl. She wasn't one to judge another's culture, but personally she would never understand a desire to be separated from the earth in such a permanent manner. She wasn't a believer in the various gods— if each clan had one of their own she figured they meant about as much as an imaginary friend— but the idea of a nice, strong tree growing over her resting place was more appealing to her than strangers watching her cheeks leather for decades behind glass. She noted some of the others pausing to take a look, and feeling again uncomfortable with such unison, moved on as though she had never taken note.
_____As they traversed further into the bowels of the earth, the light from the entrance grew dimmer and dimmer, until she knew that even with her superior night vision, her weaker human-form eyes were only able to see clearly due to Vasily's lamp. She had tried to hold back from shifting, hoping to preserve her power as a last resort in the case of needing to escape her "comrades", but that little plan held minute significance in comparison to her revulsion at the idea of depending on someone else's firelight. She shifted smoothly into her leopard form and immediately felt a sense of... not comfort, but security. No, she wasn't more comfortable— in this form, she could hear the scuttling of a rat every so often as they passed a forgone pathway and the water which grew steadily higher with each passing step reached further up her body now, and those things didn't make her comfortable; but on the flip side, she could easily outrun any of her still-human companions, and her thick fur protected her from the chill of the meltwater. Most importantly, she could see. With the lamplight, it was like broad daylight for her feline eyes, and she finally allowed herself to fall back closer to the group, finding herself more secure now— both with her ability to evade any potential attack and with the division of species that now barred her from the sense of camaraderie she feared was developing in the party. As she padded alongside them, though, she found her leopard hearing made her privy to even more of their individual quirks. As they walked, the steady swishing of Vasily's cloak through the stream acted as a sort of marching beat, and she heard Alex's light steps falling behind every so often. But now they were the loud, clumsy sounds of humans, and they were not comparable to the perfect silence of her broad, strong paws sweeping gracefully through the water, her long, elegant tail keeping her in perfect balance— all wonderfully inhuman.
_____When they reached the crossway, she didn't hesitate more than a moment. She remembered the instructions clear as day— figured, since they were pretty much the only guideline they had received— keep going down. She wasn't crazy about this mission, but she figured that if the king wanted them dead, this would be a real complicated way of doing it, and it was better to trust a direction than to have none. Far more importantly, though, she was thinking in terms of survival, and she knew that if they always chose the path that lead most downward, then should she need to escape, she would only ever need to choose the path which went most upward. So, after her brief moment of bewilderment, she continued on toward the river. It hardly occurred to her to worry if her companions would be unable to follow. She didn't pay much mind to the rat flowing by her feet, either— she was no stranger to dead prey. But something else caught the attention of that 6th sense that her mother had cultivated into blade-like sharpness in her— that instinct for survival, and just as Vasily's steps slowed, she heard the clattering of claws. She opened her mouth to scent the air and immediately wished she hadn't— the smell was overpowering and thick— if she had been of a weaker stomach, she would have gagged. She turned to see Alex stiffen, and through the darkness behind her, she saw them all. Hordes of rats, wriggling bodies squirming over each other, white foam dripping from their pointed snouts.
_____For a moment, the chaos overwhelmed her. She watched Alex shift, eyes blown wide with panic as she raced up the wrong tunnel, heard Vasily's knife scraping against the stone as it pierced their first enemy, felt the deafening roar of the rodents growing closer, and her paws felt like iron posts anchored to the ground, the small river swirling around her paws as she sank her claws into the mossy floor.
"Whatever direction we're going in, go NOW."
The command reverberated off the cave walls, and she closed her eyes.
Inhale.
- She balanced oversized, fluffy paws on the edge of a rock face, peering downward at the blue sheep below, her shoulder still sore from her failed attempt the previous week.
"You remember why you failed?" A firm, fierce, feminine voice.
A higher voice answered, almost unrecognizable as her compared to her current, alto tone, but with that same undercurrent of fierceness bordering on desperation. "I was afraid."
"Why were you afraid?" A teacher.
"I was thinking like a little girl." The right answer. An answer which brought equal measures of pride and shame— pride in knowing her lesson, shame in admitting her mistake.
"And what are you?" Eager, anticipating the answer with the same sureness that one felt in knowing the sun was still rising behind a cloudy sky. Belief in the unproven.
Breathless. "A snow leopard." Just as eager, but without faith, without security. Was this still the right answer?
A hum of approval; a pause. "And what does that mean?"
Ah. She knew the answer now. She knew it in her bones— it was at the core of everything she had ever been taught. She knew this like she knew the sun would fall and the moon would rise, like she knew winter would bring hot maple syrup and spring would bring young, tender meat to the table, like she knew her mother would keep her safe. "I am never afraid."
Exhale.
_____Such a short breath— not even a second, but her eyes opened, cold and green and focused. "Down." She announced in a clear, even tone, loud enough that all of these shifter-ears would hear her, and even if they didn't, her decision was made obvious as she leapt toward the river, accidentally meeting the eyes of the lynx as she launched herself forward, feeling the faintest twinge of regret. She had no qualms about continuing on her own, should she be left to herself— she was used to that— but choosing any direction other than down sounded like a death sentence to her, and she felt an innate connection to the fellow feline who had also clearly felt more comfortable as a snow cat than a person. It would be a shame to lose her to these tunnels. Not enough of a shame, of course, for Maveric to waste a moment in pursuing her own safety.
