[Today Wei Wuxian doesn't stay for Jory's training with Lan Wangji as he sometimes does. It's a good day it would seem, as both of them showed up with some idea of what they were doing. That's become rarer these days. Rarer still that Wei Wuxian remembers to join them. But today he isn't here to watch Jory train or offer unsolicited advice that makes Jory frown and Lan Wangji almost smile. Today he is here with a purpose. He carries with him a small paper-wrapped box that he leaves with Jory's other things so that she will find it when she is done.
He'd left a note for himself with instructions on how deliver it to her—including a reminder not to leave the note with her—and he tucks it away now, proud of himself for remembering. There is a hastily scribbled address on the paper wrapping with her name and a silly cartoon scribble of his own face. He does not stick around to watch her open it, instead retreating back to his condo because there's something he has to do...he's pretty sure anyway.
When Jory does open it she will find a carefully carved wooden wolf. It's a simple piece carved from a solid piece of wood, undecorated, but intricately designed and large enough to take up most of the palm of her hand. Aside from the address on the paper, there is no accompanying note.]
she considers that she may have forgotten it, and dismisses it. she forgets things often now. but the box has a feeling like new, especially when she picks it up, listening to the crinkling of the paper as she turns it over, and sees jory's name along with the drawing. a present for her, she smiles.
she rips off the paper and opens the box. carefully, so carefully, she takes out the figure inside, raising it to the sun. a wolf prowling over her palm. delicately she traces the shape of its pointed ears, the detail of the scruff, the powerful legs and robust body, the elegant drape of its tail. turning it back around, she studies the fine face. its head is turned up, jaws parted. she can almost hear it howl…
…then she is. the cave is dark and cool and has a pool where she likes to rest when the heat of the day turns oppressive. she is not in the pool now. she cached a little of her previous hunt, but there are only strips of meat left on the bone, which she pushes aside. a hawk on the tree watches her before dropping down to steal the meat. she thinks of biting it out of the air; it will taste warm. but she ate well the night before, and she leaves it be. the wolf pads over dead leaves and green shoots fighting for sunlight. this deep in the forest she treads uncontested: no humans, especially not recently, and none of her little grey cousins. she had a pack once, and brothers and a sister before that. they are long gone, and the woods she knew, and the prey she preferred. but she is not alone. jumping atop a large flat stone, she turns her head up and howls.
when the girl catches the last ferry back, she holds the little wooden wolf in her lap. in the green house, she greets elizabeth and her belly grown big, and gendry building his forge. when night falls, she lies in the grass listening to the breeze sing through the weirwood’s red leaves, sticks of citronella burning behind her to keep the mosquitoes away. she can feel the tickle of the grass against her skin, and smell the salt-tinged breeze blowing in from the sea. but her eyes see the trees fly past as she races on four legs through a warm forest. when she throws her head back, girl and wolf howl.
the little wolf standing on her belly howls with them. ]
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He'd left a note for himself with instructions on how deliver it to her—including a reminder not to leave the note with her—and he tucks it away now, proud of himself for remembering. There is a hastily scribbled address on the paper wrapping with her name and a silly cartoon scribble of his own face. He does not stick around to watch her open it, instead retreating back to his condo because there's something he has to do...he's pretty sure anyway.
When Jory does open it she will find a carefully carved wooden wolf. It's a simple piece carved from a solid piece of wood, undecorated, but intricately designed and large enough to take up most of the palm of her hand. Aside from the address on the paper, there is no accompanying note.]
no subject
she considers that she may have forgotten it, and dismisses it. she forgets things often now. but the box has a feeling like new, especially when she picks it up, listening to the crinkling of the paper as she turns it over, and sees jory's name along with the drawing. a present for her, she smiles.
she rips off the paper and opens the box. carefully, so carefully, she takes out the figure inside, raising it to the sun. a wolf prowling over her palm. delicately she traces the shape of its pointed ears, the detail of the scruff, the powerful legs and robust body, the elegant drape of its tail. turning it back around, she studies the fine face. its head is turned up, jaws parted. she can almost hear it howl…
…then she is. the cave is dark and cool and has a pool where she likes to rest when the heat of the day turns oppressive. she is not in the pool now. she cached a little of her previous hunt, but there are only strips of meat left on the bone, which she pushes aside. a hawk on the tree watches her before dropping down to steal the meat. she thinks of biting it out of the air; it will taste warm. but she ate well the night before, and she leaves it be. the wolf pads over dead leaves and green shoots fighting for sunlight. this deep in the forest she treads uncontested: no humans, especially not recently, and none of her little grey cousins. she had a pack once, and brothers and a sister before that. they are long gone, and the woods she knew, and the prey she preferred. but she is not alone. jumping atop a large flat stone, she turns her head up and howls.
when the girl catches the last ferry back, she holds the little wooden wolf in her lap. in the green house, she greets elizabeth and her belly grown big, and gendry building his forge. when night falls, she lies in the grass listening to the breeze sing through the weirwood’s red leaves, sticks of citronella burning behind her to keep the mosquitoes away. she can feel the tickle of the grass against her skin, and smell the salt-tinged breeze blowing in from the sea. but her eyes see the trees fly past as she races on four legs through a warm forest. when she throws her head back, girl and wolf howl.
the little wolf standing on her belly howls with them. ]