[SOLO] Extinguish Loneliness (ane's kin)

[anemosagkelos]

A collection of obtainment and breeding
prompts for familiars and pets.

[anemosagkelos]

Sometimes, it's pain.

Fangs puncture, sink and slice into his skin. He is voiceless and immobile as the pack tears him apart. Fur flutters through the air as blood spreads in the snow. And he's dead, fading, lost.

A yelp sounds as he wakes from a dream within the dream. A foot slams into his cheek and he shifts until he falls comfortably between his sisters. Recall's snout pillows on his tail as she dreams, paws twitching against his back. Cherished is a ball of fluff, curled tightly, as his face burrows beneath her neck.

There are other wolves here. A mass of warmth and family. It'll hurt that much worse when he wakes... And he doesn't care about anything but being here. Ensconced and safe, like he was a lifetime ago, he has a piece of happiness that smothers the feeling of want and need, of loneliness and heartache...

He's afraid that he is not enough wolf. That his sisters will turn on him. That he will never find another wolf, one like him, that he can serve and love.

Another yelp; he struggles to his feet and snaps his teeth at his sister until she releases his tail. He whines, pitifully, until his sisters seem to notice. Recall, the biter, sniffs at him before launching at him like a mountain. She's all action and he ends up sprawled out, indignant, at her absurd happiness.

Cherished only watches; she's far too refined for this nonsense.

And so it continues on. Heritage pined, still not quite right in a wolf's body. Still missing something, someone.

Breeding: ??? x ???

[anemosagkelos]

As a rule, Glumcloud was not given to panic. Emotions, on him, were a muted tone. Ones such as excitement or fear boiled the blood and his was lightly frosted with ice to warm that much. So the sight of a massive bulky creature, covered in fur and wielding piercing red eyes... He'd nodded faintly. It seemed about right for something that might exist in the swamp. And, as he had seen it, well, it did exist. That didn't mean he knew what it was or that he thought he should follow or befriend it. The steps he would have to take, the smiles he would have to make, the quickness he couldn't fake... He shook his head; no, he would let it be as it let him be.

Still, the image stayed with him the rest of the night. At each shadow, each sound, he wondered if it around. He shivered a little, the swamp was turning colder with the leaves dropping down...

---

He wakes in a sea of red and every muscle in his body tenses. The tentacles of the jellyfish rake over his back and up his cheeks but there is no pain. It's a dream, he knows, because in any other world this would hurt. Instead, there is a mild warmth and a gentleness like an affectionate caress that he instinctively tries to press closer to. All around him, red jellies bob and rise and float. It's the closest he's ever seen to the odd red object that sometimes floats about his dreams. And he doesn't like it, not quite, because it's missing the ragtag group that is usually holding on to its tail. For all its beauty, it is hollow and he rises from his spot with a hollow throb between his ribs.

The feeling, homesickness, has haunted him since birth though he has no idea where or why or even when this home might be. He isn't a wistful sort and so he has always just assumed that was a feeling kin had. A motivation to move forward, he supposed, instead of sitting stuck in the mud. It would have been easier, sometimes, to stay idle and do nothing. And he did, at times, indulge in that listless melancholy by sprawling out on his side. Others may have derided him, scorned him, mocked him, but he had no shame in his feelings. He might have been different with his mood never cresting higher than an anthill but he was still kind.

He puffs out an amused breath, mouth turning up. Here he is in dreams and he stands here thinking. He chuckles wryly at himself and walks forward. He knows the way, somehow. This trodden path with a log over running water and the sticks that fit neatly together to make his home. Usually, he finds it empty but in this dream...

Apparently, he is host to a party. Somewhere inside he knows these are not his friends but their spirits taking familiars form. It's enough and it's always welcome. He trudges upward to his house of sticks and peers inside. Often, he finds a rabbit or pig inside. The owl is usually perched atop. It's the jerboas and striped cat that tend to be running wild. The younger jerboa anyway. Usually the fluffball is climbing trees but not this time.

Glumcloud looks at the golden furry minibear. It has bits of honey stuck in its fur but it doesn't seem to mind. It rocks upwards and lumbers, sweet drunk, towards him. He kneels down to meet it and--he doesn't remember the last time he cried, he isn't given to tears. But as he feels the fluff greet him, curl up next to him, rivers down his cheeks. This is apart of home. This fluff and these sticks. The animals. He should enjoy it now because it won't last when he wakes.

---

The minibear rumbles a waking call and Glumcloud is bewildered but pleased to find it has seemingly followed him to the swamp. He smiles and knows that it's time for honey. Maybe this is home, too.

Obtainment: Buddy Boy Minibear

[anemosagkelos]

She hates these dreams and the further, the longer, she is from home the more frequent they are. They always start the same: she is a wolf and in front of her stands the wolf that looks so much like her mother. Totem's gold eyes are hopeful; she wants nothing more than to play. And Ashborn wants to play but she is not a wolf. She has never been nor will she ever be a wolf and to be forced into this body, she cannot help the growl that bubbles aggressively in her throat. The lips of her maw curl back to reveal shining white teeth and then everything goes to hell.

Totem's ears flatten back and she whines. And then Ashborn is ambushed from every angle by wolves. She knows them for who they are as kin but for now they, too, are wolves.

Keepsake's teeth sink down into her back right flank. Heritage makes no hesitation in going for her throat. Lightning Strike forces her to the ground. And then her siblings join the feast that is her dying body. It's always here that she walks into the clearing, still a wolf, still beset, but knowing that she is soon to die she briefly accepts the form the dream has pushed her into. And with death awaiting her arrival, she gives in to Totem's desire and they begin to play.

They catch fish in the stream, their entire heads soaked because they are having too much fun to do a good job at it.

They try to catch fireflies and butterflies in their mouths, but always end up romping in piles of dried leaves and pinning one another with paws.

They even venture beyond the swamp. In the desert they run beneath the moon as they howl, paws leaving tracks in the sand. In the mountains they chase Totoma and roll for miles in the snow. In the caves they listen to their barks and yips and howl echo like an entire pack is made between the two of them. And on the plains, they flop and bask in the warmth of sunlight.

Eventually Ashborn can take it no more and they return to the clearing. She becomes herself, a kin, and wakes.

Breeding: Totem x Bygone

[anemosagkelos]

Sylph smiles as he parts ways with Nightmare and his entourage of owners. He's satiated from all the fish he caught and shared with the quintet. And he knows that he's likely somewhat expected at the tribe but as he pauses in his tracks, he feels sleep drape a warm weight over his body. It seeps into his muscles and down into his bones and he yawns. There's no harm in a nap, anyway, he thinks and he imagines he'll have some company or someone (make that five) watching over him for a bit if he drifts to sleep now.

He nods, decision made, and turns into circles to stomp the grass down lightly before he sinks into a graceful and pretty pile of pelt and feather.

---

He dreams for one of the first times of who he is: a fork-tailed hummingbird, a sylph. He flutters faster than the eye can see and drinks nectar from a beautiful flower. He is, for once, content in his own world and his own actions. Peace, however, does not last and soon a loudness erupts nearby.

Voices are arguing back and forth. He recognizes one and his blood freezes, wings stopping in mid-beat. He begins to fall and soon he collides into the body of his kin form. He blinks up at the stranger who is no stranger and knows the story too well to be afraid. This is his captor and he refuses to let things play out as they have for however many eons he has had this nightmare.

"Nightmare," he whispers to himself and grins wildly at the totoma with bloody horns. This is a nightmare but it does not need to remain one. And with the memory fresh of the minibears in his mind, he opens his mouth wide and roars.

The bones in his body crack and mend. Muscles lengthen and gain mass. And soon there is no more kimeti. Sylph is no minibear.

Instead, standing before his captor, he is a big bear and he rears up on hind legs with all the force of a great oak. He watches the creature before him go wide-eyed and begin to quake and he swipes it down with one mighty paw. The power is astounding and he knows he has the ability now to end this creature altogether. And yet he has no longer the paranoia overlooking his shoulder or whispering in his ears. He has a clear mind and he has no fear of this totoma. Instead he feels sad that it feels it must own others and he decides that blood is uncalled for.

"You will leave kin to live as they please. You will own only yourself and should I hear that you have strayed from this new path, I open before you, I will take you to be mine," he threatens. And, somehow, that is enough to ease the pain that remains from being owned. From being a captive. From a dream that has named and defined and left him a mess.

He watches the totoma leave and with a nod towards the red eyes in the forest, he borrows the four minibears. He romps with them in the leaves of fall. He teaches them to fish and watches with joy as they fail and succeed. He retrieves them honeycomb and runs hilarious through the woods to avoid the angry bees that threaten to sting him. He even takes to grooming them and trying to talk to them in bear. That latter fails and he hopes that Nightmare will forgive him for being unable to teach them that the shaggy kimeti is not a pet. But then what would he do without his four little friends after all this time? And he doesn't feel so bad that the bears will not change their behavior.

---

Sylph wakes with a chuckle in his throat and a sneeze. He blinks as a grumble reaches his ears and he looks down to see a cute mini bear of his own nestled between his forelegs. He smiles, turns to thank the shaggy buck but finds that he, for now, is alone. He will thank him later then.

"Come on,  little one. Let us find out who is pet of us," he teases his new friend before lifting it up gently and resting it on his back.