Familiar Places {oPeN}

Crash, crash, crash, a constant pounding of the waters against the shore, calling to her, mocking her, reminding her of these she would have sooner have forgotten. She hated staring at the water, at this reckless, arrogant water; she hated the sand, hated the sun, hated the smell -- it reminded her of deeper memories, of the taste of salt as it slipped into her nose, burning, burning, of her lungs flexing, her body heaving. Looking at the water was not peaceful -- it was chaos, it was terror, it was hatred. The sun pulsed above her, sending waves of heat into her very skin, beads of sweat sliding down the narrow curves of her shoulder, the coiling along the underside of her hair.

Hot, so hot -- it made a person want to come to the maw of the beast, to submit to the danger of the water as the current pulled you out; but Rin knew better, Rin knew the truth, and she stared at it with dark, luminous eyes. She seemed a figment on the edges of this world, a creature of wood and moonlight come to the edges of sand and water. She was the cast off sea shell that could not find it's other half. She was the dying clam, the broken mussel. Unable to stand the stuffiness of her room, and unable to bear looking at a forest she could not run in, Rin had followed her feet without thinking, unconsciously pulled toward the sound that mirrored that of her heart.

While the sea bewailed it's separation from earth, constantly grabbing it in it's powerful arms, so too, did Rin try to hold onto something denied her. She imagined him then, under the vivid heat waves that swarmed her, enveloped her in a pitiful display of flushing skin and gathering sweat. He ran before her, always before her -- so she could not reach him, so she could not tangle her fingers in his hair and hold him close to her. In her heart he danced and laughed, he reached out hands for her to hold onto, but he was like her -- a figment, not belonging of this world. He was dead, gone, buried under a wealth of earth and lies and ignorance. Cast away like so much meat, he had been left to be picked apart by the ravens while she, monster, had been locked up -- drowned.

Her heart beat faster, faster, the world converging around her as if it would punish her once and for all -- No, no, her fingers raised as she knotted them in her hair, covering her ears. She would not submit to this, not this -- not when the Wolf had been sleeping, not when the Wolf was quiet. She was alone, lonely, and tempted to seek out Professor Dauthi, tempted to burn under his cold, cold stare. Anything, anything other than this -- this pain hurt her, and she accepted it because she did not have the strength to cast it away, did not have the willpower to ignore it. Instead she chased after it, while denying she ever did. In every bright splash of sunlight she imagined his sparkling eyes. In every smile, she saw his own reflected there. In the mirror, she saw his killer and wept from shame, from horror, from a grief that had traumatized her delicate soul. What power she had, was now solely the Wolf's for her strength fled her when she realized how monstrous she could become.

In one foul sweep of fangs and adrenaline, of blackness suffocating and dark, she had submitted to the Wolf as it ripped from her flesh, had chased him down, uncaring for anything but that horrific insatiable hunger slithering through her intestines. So she had sated it again and again, filling in a void that could not be filled. He had died in vain, and she, almost murdered for something she would have gladly killed herself for.

The water reminded her of this, the world laughed at her for her withdrawal, for turning her eyes away from it and seeing just the Wolf, only the Wolf. With the Wolf was safety, and though she slept, Rin reached out and touched that beautiful, feral creature, that wild, untameable spirit. She gathered that warmth despite the heat to her chest, called to her though the Wolf was in such a deep slumber. She wound her fingers in her fur, pressed her face to that neck and melted into that shape, her clothes ripping, slipping off shoulders, entangling in the powerful hind legs and shifting tail; her ears perked up as the wind turned to her, as the world shifted, altered, became clearer, focused -- it was a new world before her eyes and the black wolf tilted it's head back, inhaled the scents of fish and open sea, calling back to that ocean that so disturbed the girl. They linked fangs and teeth, claws and hands, hearts and minds and ------------- they ran. Brilliant, beautiful, a dark shadow slicing through the bright morning sunlight. She became nothing but a flurry of raining sand as she stretched herself out, as she gave herself over to this empowering strength, to the sounds and wonders of the world.

The sand and waters crashed on and on in her heart, stretching for eternity before her black paws, falling away behind her -- her jaws gaped open, tongue lolling as she panted exhilaration, as adrenaline coursed through her body and the soul awakened: fire coursed through her. She was alive, alive, alive, and it was a feeling she missed so terribly when the Wolf was gone, when she was simply her empty, heartfelt self.

Noise slowly soaked into her consciousness as her tail whipped up high in the air, as hackles rose with the strength of her conviction. Little yips of surprise -- a shadow lurking in the water; the wolf, full of curiosity, of burning need to know, slid to a halt, sand spraying beneath her paws as she righted herself, as she tilted her head back and began to chase the shadow, following it left and right, pushing past people with the wildness in her eyes, with the strength of her bearing. It became a game for her, though she doubted the other knew -- it didn't matter. Curiosity had sparked an easiness in the Wolf that was shared by the girl, and they raced from left to the right, turning back and forth as the creature swam, as their ears perked high over their head, as hackles raised and lowered, tail curved over her backside. Excitement pulsed in her head with her heart, but she would not touch her paws to the water.

It came and went with a fluttering of red sails, colorful against the onslaught of blue as ocean continuously pounded away at the shore. Mocking, laughing -- but the Wolf was not to be outdone; it ran in toward the waters, ears perked up, jaws gaping as her fangs unsheathed themselves from blackened lips. When it crashed, following her, she flicked her tail upward, hackles rolling, dashing out of the way. All that mattered was the red sail, constantly flickering, constantly shifting -- it moved with practiced ease, an instinct that she understood well, and could approve of. The black wolf panted laughter, tail swishing 'round and 'round in delight as the game continued, as it commenced with it's sudden realization.

She could tell the moment it saw her, could almost taste it on the salty air though it's scent was hidden under the flowing currents. It knew, because it paused, it tested her out -- and she ran full out, her body scything through the sand as she kept pace, as ears flicked down against her skull and her narrow, lean shoulders pushed her forward. The sand was not like the forest, and her claws slid harmlessly into it like a glove, forcing her to use more strength to attain equal speed; she grinned, she laughed wolfishly -- in silence, with the sound of her breath parting the air like thick smog. Happiness came in the form of sunshine, in the form of adrenaline and blissful simplicity as she ran, as she fully gave herself over to this little moment where both tested the other.

It swam; she ran. Testing her skills against something so perfectly attuned to the water, and she so out of her element ground against her pride, flared up that competitive streak that made her fangs flash in the sunlight, made her black gums expose themselves to those that got in her way. What did they matter, when there was something red, something brilliant-- something tasty -- just out of reach.

If only she could go into the water, if only she could take that step -- but whenever she rushed in, she quickly darted back out, the spray of salty water slipping under her guard hairs. Cold water startled the Wolf as skittered away, snapping at the drops of water that tried to fall on her. Comical creature, too frightened of the water, too frightened of the memories of --- don't think, don't think! and she folds it away, coiling her hind legs behind her and jumping forward. If she had been a dog, perhaps she would have barked at it-- but such imbecilic actions spoke of a commoners blood. It knew she was here; what point in announcing it?

Until it paused -- and she paused with it, her nose raising high in the air, forepaws pushing her up onto her hind legs, tilting her head back and sniffing at the air; nothing but ocean, but that salty, fishy scent that breezed into her brain. It almost burned, this scent, as those eyes pinned themselves on her, as she cocked her head, tongue lolling. Forepaws back onto the ground, tail raised high, she jumped a little to the left, then to right. Come, on, come on! Like a puppy finally finding something worth doing, something worth exploring.

Let's play? -- but it's eyes were at once judgmental and watchful, unable to take that - ah - step forward to meet her. Did it not want to continue the challenge issued with that vibrant smattering of color? Red, like blood, and her mouth began to water. Inching forward, she eyed the water, wondered how fast her heart would race the moment it engulfed her. Even the Wolf was wary of such fear. Wolves, by nature, were not meant for water -- not like this, when it deepened exponentially, when it pulled and dragged. Even rivers, rushing over rocks were dangerous to a wolf; to imagine submitting herself to this challenge was at once frightening and galling.

The fish moved, it's long sword moving out of the water and the black wolf grinned, fangs exposed, lips pulled back as her face contorted in a snarl of sorts: she rose back onto her hind legs with a powerful thrust of muscles and willpower: maw tilting back, she howled, long and loud, a declaration of challenge, commingled with the beautiful ferocity of being free and wild.

It was hard, so hard for her to be unable to take those steps -- to not plunge herself into those waters and go after what she sought. The Wolf was too aggressive, too easily persuaded to take what she wanted, to chase and chase, to wrestle it to the ground with her jaws. To have it out of her reach was unbearable, was terrible. Fangs flashed beneath the constantly shifting motion of her lips as she paced, as she danced, unsure how to tantalize, how to coax the fish into her maw, to take it into her jaws and run away with it.

She wanted to know what it was, to continue this fun game, of testing her strength against it's own. They were not of the same kind, but they had the same ability - to go, fast, fast, to fall into the mind of the fish, of the Wolf, to be able to lose oneself to that magical world of surety. While the fish shifted and twisted, while it moved and tested her, the Wolf was more than willing to follow, more than willing to trace it's steps in sand, while it made them in water. Who says she could not follow? A grin, Wolfish and violent -- frightening some of the others who thought her feral and diseased; but the Wolf was not paying attention to the outside world.

It was just her. Just Rin -- the Wolf, and the fish; those giant sails called to her, rubbed her confidence raw so that she felt she must push herself and find out if it was stronger than she was, to find out if it could survive what she has survived. Would she taste victory at the beach? In the water? Or would she drown, like she had almost drowned three years ago?

Would it hold her down under water, coil that fin about her body and keep from reaching her goal? Amusement sizzled through her, nearly sparking the air. Yes, let's play - for sure, for sure. This game, this test would be fun indeed; it moved, and she moved with it. It was a dance, just another type of dance, and much like singing, she loved the feeling of her body as she gave in to it. So the black wolf shifted down the beach, racing after it as it spun and spun, as it leapt up into the air, she jumped high, her eyes approving, appreciating the gesture of strength for what it was: beautiful.

Water splattered her, and she skittered away even as the fish squirmed up the bank -- curiosity fed the fever in her veins, and she darted forward as it raised it's sword; her fur bristled, tail curled high aggressively, but the tilt of her ears was all curious, the gaping of her maw lolling exposing her for what she was: light-hearted and whimsical. From anger to happiness, she was content with whatever emotion as long as it was genuine, as long as she was fiercely, and perfectly free. And who’s this?

The sound startled the Wolf, startled Rin who had never been able to talk in her wolf-shape. Black eyes sparking with light, with a fascination that went bone-deep, she darted forward, her nose snuffling around its fins and scales, lifting up to touch it's magnificent red sail. A deep urge eviscerated her; the need to bite down on it, to draw it tenderly with her jaws and open it up ---- but Rin hauled the Wolf back from that. Selfishly, she merely snorted, ears flicking down as she pranced back, whining experimentally at the fish. Nosing the sword, the black wolf licked the tip, making a face at the heavy taste of ocean that clung to her taste buds. Face squeezing inward, the black wolf sneezed; Come play?

Acting much like a dog, and less like a wolf, Rin circled the fish, a playful growl rumbling out of her throat -- cut off quick when the ocean slapped at her black paws. Quickly she yipped and retreated, away from the ocean, from what it reminded her of.

Mischief. Madness. Delight. Sadness; she feels them all in her heart at one point or another. She knows them all, can distinguish one playful mask from another vicious one. Deceit is the implication, the ability to shift from one being to another, to hold onto one mask as if that is her whole, and then to become another entity all-together. She is the self which constantly shifts, the wildness that cannot be contained with one word, with one shape and emotion. The sun pulls at her energy, sucking it up with each wave of heat that courses down and wraps it's fingers in her fur. She is the blackness, the spot of sin in the midst of brilliant light and sand. On the edge of the nightmare, on the blissful side of the dream world, she is hopping back and forth, she is constantly retreating, her fangs flashing as she snaps at the water, as if she could willfully make it bleed with her anger.

Anger. Love. Loyalty -- were these too not part of what she was? Could she not be coy and haughty at the same time? Could these adjectives not fit so wonderfully on her skin as naturally as the others? Must she be confined by one word, one mask, one being? Too complex, and yet far, far too simple, she is a whirlwind of emotion, feeling things deeply in her heart, from the very root of who she was. While others felt love and sadness and wore the depth on her face, she felt the fierce fires and the cool numbness of it in her fingers, fluttering at the edges of her heart. So why be stuck to one shape?

Why give in to one cliche, when there were so many original thoughts waiting to be made, thriving in a world of emotion, and tongues and eyes; the black wolf was indeed frightened of the water, and the water was a vicious thing to her: it recalled burning salt, air gone, gone. It made her seize up with trauma, but that is just one darker image of herself. The water also inspired her. Thrilled her. Terrified her. So many emotions, too many to name, too many to understand, but the heart is made for these things, blood written in a language as primal as the feelings which dig deep into her bones. Writ in the fat of her marrow, it is not something she can hold back.

Rin shifts between happiness, between the glorious, brilliant light of delight that comes from being around this mystery, this enigmatic existence; red sails remind her blood, stirring her heart to heated flashes of blood. The taste of it on her mouth, makes the fierceness turn of her maw ripple with remembered victory. Feral beast; and the fear spikes through her -- the water at her toes. Springing back tail held up haughtily, for she is not one to fully give in to just one emotion, Rin prances around, her nose working at the air.

There is no one in her world but this beast, this fish that is at once fascinating and delicious; she imagines the taste of it's flesh on her tongue, filling up the void in her stomach and parts her jaws, tongue lolling as she pants laughter. Hah-hah-hah, she cannot contained the dark humor, as it's fins twitch, as the sword of it's nose swings toward her; it does not like her closeness, and again she is amused by it, her heart thrumming in her chest. She reaches out with her jaws -- but the water is coming, coming, and she darts away, the water flicking over her backside, raising the fur on her hips. Gurgling comes to her ears as she flicks them forward, swings around to see the fish become human, become man -- What game have you in mind? she thinks, her ears perked forward, the furry rim of her auds dampened from the spray of salty water. He reaches out, his eyes dark, familiar. Tilted like a cats, the Wolf recognizes something of home in his gaze, and she comes forward, lured by the entanglement of his hair, the salt on his fingers.

He is joking, teasing her, but her heart is thrashing around in her scrawny chest, her eyes black and emotionless, the delight dying as her head tilts as those fingers come fearlessly into her fur, touching her nose, her jaw. She shifts forward like a dog wanting the comfort of human comfort, of the girl inside yearning for a home she had thought she had finally, finally forgotten. But she had not forgotten, could not forget -- and there is a ghost of Taro lurking in those tilted eyes, those dark...dark... it was a brief contact -- but it felt as if it had gone on forever with her ears flicked down against her skull, tail lowered, tucked between her legs.

Hackles raise when he's gone, when the salt on his fingers is left on her maw -- she flicked her tongue and licked her lips, tasting it. She is entranced as he falls back into the water, and she steps forward, almost following, almost dying, dying, her paws soaked as the water comes rushing forward eagerly as if it would destroy her, devour her; he comes splashing upward again, his hair plastered to his face and she does not realize the change, does not realize the moment she lets go of her body, of her shape -- the Wolf overcome by the sheer intensity of the girl's yearning. Fur melts away, the body seeming to fall from her very skin like water sluicing over pale, pale skin; so small, this girl, this woman, kneeling on the edges of reality with water surging up along her thighs, her knees, her toes; sand follows, covering her, masking her nakedness as she lifts her gaze; black hair frazzled and damp flies to to the side, slashing across her face as she stares at him from the water. "Who are you?" she asks, her fingers clenching in the sand; the knee bent before her covering her nakedness, shoulders rounded out.

There is a strange intensity in her gaze, even as emotions shrivel, die and are rebirthed. Again, and again, those emotions. Love. Grief. Sorrow. Want. Yearning -- why one? Why only the one? She is everything. She is human, after all. She holds those complicated emotions, that need to touch his face, to hold him close and demand to know, demand that Taro would somehow be reborn in this boy. Little brother! -- the thought, shattered before it can be fully recognizes fades before she can utter anything more stupid than she already has. What was the point in being intelligent when it hampered the freedom of the heart? Her fingers clench in the sand, her voice coming out harsher, the Wolf snarling under it. "Have you always been at the school?" But the question she wants to ask cannot be asked, because she already knows the answer. Of course not, how could he be him? Little brother!

The heart will forever grieve for the dead. The murderer will forever be haunted by love.