[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright][imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgright]

It was a bright morning when Kismet set out, initially. The sun had been high, the clouds nothing more than white wisps on the horizon.

Now, though, the wind has picked up, and the waves slap against the shore, foaming like rabid beasts. Thunder cracks in the distance, raising the small hairs on the back of her nape, even as her long, curly, mane whips about her face. Where in the world had the storm come from, she wonders?

But then again, it is Summer time. She shouldn't have stayed out so late into the afternoon, when the rains usually come this time of day.

She'd lost track of time, daydreaming about the small creatures beginning to stir in her belly. It's been so long since she's had a brood of children running underfoot, and while she doesn't look forward to the birthing process itself - the work, and pain, the swollen ankles that come before for days on end, the jabs of small hooves which always feel like they're aiming right for her ribs... That part of it is rather un-pretty.

But... still, there's something nice about the after. And she has no doubt they'll be beautiful. Their father is a beautiful acha with such colors  that fairly match her own, though his blues are a little different.

Another crack of thunder, this one much louder and closer, jolts her out of her reminiscence. Misfortune screeches and then chatters wildly in reaction, tightening its long body about her neck, eager, no doubt, to escape the rain as much as she.

Right. Best to find some shelter.

A copse of mangrove trees up ahead look promising enough, their large, gnarled, roots should offer decent enough shelter from the elements until the storm calms...

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... ncert4.png[/imgleft] Most birds wouldn't be caught dead flying in a summer storm, but the brilliant-eyed eagle was no mere bird. She soared above the swamp, circling and diving and riding the pressure front like a salmon swimming upstream. The wind was picking up as a storm welled. She wasn't worried- the weather never bothered her. Not... ever, actually, since her eyes had started glowing. It just didn't.

But it bothered others. Perhaps that was what she was seeking? Someone who shouldn't be out, or who had gotten caught up in the storm? Her golden eyes scanned the ground, looking for the little things out of place, looking for the thing she was drawn to.

There, down in the mangroves, near the water's edge. They might be sheltering between mangrove roots, but the brightness was unmistakable. Tucking her wings, she dove, navigating through the trees with thoughtful deftness. She landed on an old cypress knee and gazed upon a kimeti doe and a brightly colored furbody. She cried a chattering call to announce herself, then just observed for a moment to see what the pair would do.

@Owlsomniac

Misfortune curls itself around a root and seems content enough, if not exactly happy, to remain there until the storm passes. It gives the bird a cursory glance, and then closes its eyes, huddling down further into itself to conserve warmth - and promptly ignores them both.

Kismet, however, finds herself caught by the strange glow of the bird's eyes. She can't recall ever seeing an animal with glowing eyes quite like that, though she supposes it's possible she's simply never noticed before.

"I suppose you were wanting to get out of this weather, too?" She asks, though she doesn't really expect a reply. "Not that I can blame you."

She grimaces as another bolt of lightning cracks across the sky, thunder rolling across the water.

"Ugh.... my hair is going to be a disaster to sort out after this." Indeed, her hair has been thoroughly soaked, sticking to her body in wild clumps and flyaway strands, the salt spray not really helping matters, much.

"I bet you'll be alright, though. Feathers dry pretty quick, don't they?" She smiles faintly. "Though, in this weather, I think I'd rather be a fish!"

@Scaramouche Fandango

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... ncert5.png[/imgleft] "I can do that, too!" said the bird, before slipping out of her feathers and into a shuppy's shape. She gamboled about in the slowly-moving water of the river, turning a flip as she bottomed out and came up with mud on her nose. With a huge yawn, the shuppy skin sloughed off of her and a Totoma stood dripping on the bank. She winked a still-glowing eye. "So, who have I fished up today? I'm Real Big Fish, and something tells me it's not just the weather on your mind."

@Owlsomniac

Kismet lets out an undignified yelp as the bird speaks, and then transforms before her eyes into another creature.

She's still staring, wide-eyed, when it turns back into a kin-shape she recognizes as one of the mountain kin - a totoma. It's eyes are still glowing the same bright yellow, and she blinks as she realizes she was asked a question.

"Ah... er, no - not exactly -- That is -- sorry, I think you surprised me a little. I've *heard* of kin who can take the shape of the swamp's creatures, but I've never seen it myself. That must be... useful."

She contemplates that for a second before shaking her head and scooting back further against the relative cover of the mangrove tree.

"I was out for a walk when I realized I'd stayed out too long, but the storm had already broken before I could get back to my den. I suppose I got lost in my own head for awhile. Thinking about the little ones I'll be having, soon," she says, nodding down at herself, and the clear swell of her belly - though she's not so round, yet, as to make walking too difficult.

"It's been such a long time since I've had a clutch, you see. I'm actually.... looking forward to it, I think."

@Scaramouche Fandango