on the outside [open]

[redwhaling]

Character(s): Billie + whoever else is lurking around the wilderness.
Status: Open
Location(s): Marshlands near City of the Free Peoples
Date(s) Early March
About: With tensions and fighting within the city on the rise, Billie's opted to keep Mr. Werewolf fed through somewhat more wild means.
Warnings: She's hunting, so animal death and potentially more violence.

With winter on the run and the snow and ice ebbing away, the marsh isn't necessarily the safest place to pick off rabbits and the like, but the point is that the animals know that, too. There's less foot traffic outside of the road that edges around the swampy parts out here, meaning creatures popping up to pick at what greenery has begun to show through are far more common.

It also makes it a good place to hunt through less conventional means. Why waste arrows when you can literally turn into a giant rat? Or in this case, a cross between a human and a rat. She's shed her coat and boots to go skulking through the marshland in her black-furred shiftling form. At a distance, it's easy to assume she's one of the beastfolk. Though, at a closer range, the much more wild traits of a wererat are obvious to someone who knows what they're looking at. She isn't a wererat in actuality but for lack of a better word...

All that aside, for whatever reason you're out here on your own, your trek is about to be interrupted by a hare bolting out of the rushes and across your path. This is followed immediately by the shiftling leaping after and landing directly on it with a sick, soft crack of bones underclaw.

Comments

[fuga]

Lauralae has lived decades alone in the wilderness; she knows how to hunt and she knows what it means to be hunted at the same time. There's something sharp and dangerous about her as she moves, her eyes dancing over the creature in front of her before she shifts forward, seeing it disappear. Magic, the kind she is not as familiar with, and she breathes in sharply before she begins to listen.

The voice in her mind alerts her - Behind!

Jerking forward, she presses herself down into the ground, pressing, burying herself into the dirt and the grass before she, too, transforms. The small, lithe shape of Lauralae transforms into a wolf, fur on edge, teeth bared as she turns, sharp, to twist and look back at the other creature.

There's no hesitation, at least, as she gazes back, growling. She manages to duck down enough to avoid the attack, she hopes, but she can feel how the hands almost scraped over her, leaving her wiggling to get herself back into a position where she will not be weak again.

[redwhaling]

That leaves Billie landing on the other side of Lauralae, immediately whirling back around to face the woman-turned-wolf. That, at least, gives her pause rather than launching right into another attack. If she's dealing with another shiftling, she isn't really inclined to pick fights, but what kind of shiftling stumbles around a marsh knife-first?

Even though she doesn't charge again, she does still hiss and prowl to one side, still on all fours as she landed, never taking her eyes off the wolf. Given the chance, she'll start circling, trying to get a better look.

[fuga]

Body pressed low to the ground, teeth bared, the wolf version of Lauralae stares forward at the creature in front of her, tense and uncertain as she keeps herself defended. It's clear that she cannot turn her back to this beast, that she cannot risk what might happen if she relents for even a moment, and above her the raven she calls her own squawks.

Slowly, she moves to the side, eyes gold and searching, stepping. Fur raised, she tilts her head, watching and waiting. She's not inclined to give up but it's clear that she has no intention of attacking either, no matter what Billie might do at the moment.

[redwhaling]

Which leaves the two of them circling for a long, drawn-out moment. When no attack comes from the wolf, Billie is left wrinkling her nose and lashing her tail in irritation. Not for the lack of attack but for the waste of her time. She has questions she can't ask and an unwillingness to reveal her human form. Though the raven overhead isn't completely ignored, there's no real tell between an animas, a familiar, and a pet up until it either rips someone's throat out or does something else wildly outlandish.

From a gnarled tree, leaning halfway into the swamp, her own bird — a tern — watches but hasn't been called on yet. That's a second pair of eyes that stay on the raven for now. Without further action, though, all that's left to do is for Billie to make a scoffing noise at Lauralae and rise up, though only to settle back on her haunches. She makes a few motions with her hands, some of them certainly rude, and ends with a shooing motion.

'Go away', she tries to get across. This isn't exactly her territory but she sure hasn't seen markings around making it some wolf's, either!

[fuga]

Lauralae is not inclined to simply give up; it seems silly for her to give into a threat in the middle of nowhere over nothing. There's a sharpness to the way her eyes narrow, something dangerous, something a little awkward - but she stops herself from lashing out, from wanting to rush forward and do something to defend herself. She will not put herself in harms way if it can be entirely avoided. She might be able to survive a fight, but it would cost her a great deal.

Slowly, carefully, she adjusts her weight and moves, wiggling just a little before she settles back on her own hind legs, careful. She cannot hold her form for too long and she knows that makes this all the more dangerous - that she might turn back into a person and be even more at risk. She cannot give this up, even as her head tilts, her eyes careful, unthreatening. More curious than ready to attack.

Above her, Rav'ahm caws, soft and sure, a warning - another bird, perhaps, or another animal. She cannot turn to look now.