First Step [Video; public]

[dogwalksyou]

Hello? Hello, yes.

[The dog comes into focus at an odd angle - the communicator is on the floor, between her forepaws as she peers down over it. Apparently satisfied that it's working, she yips in delight, rushing out of view in a close-up whirl of paws and tail and glimpses of an old timber ceiling as she spins in a circle. Then her face reappears, tongue hanging out slightly from her canine grin.]

Hello! I'm the Disreputable Dog. Or the Disreputable Bitch, if you want to be technical. Who wants to go for a walk?

Comments

[ukan]

[He cracks a smile, the equivalent of wagging his tail--the cautious wag, still, because wolves simply don't make friends, you're pack or you aren't. But she's an improvement over the last dogs he spent time around.]

Dog, then. My name is Lark. I'm a lycanthrope--a 'werewolf'. Do they have those where you're from?

[dogwalksyou]

No.

[She tilts her head, pondering him, and the new words.]

Tell me.

[But it's more eager to understand than peremptory.]

[ukan]

It means I can turn into a wolf.

[He moves over to a bench, where he's stashed one of his tennis balls. He normally uses them when he wants to play fetch with Chris or Lisbeth, but look at Dog. She needs a toy.]

Here you go.

[dogwalksyou]

[She considers him and the tennis ball, head tilted slightly, and it's not puzzlement; it's something more searching and precise.]

A good mage can make a charter-skin and turn into any animal they like.

You mean something more than that, I think.

[ukan]

...Yeah, I do.

[He's quiet a moment, tapping the ball thoughtfully from hand to hand.

Then he moves forward, using simple body language to indicate she should follow. He takes her to the showers, where he strips and changes. As a wolf he's slightly bigger than her; he's smaller than most lycanthropes, but they're all bigger than most dogs.]

[dogwalksyou]

[After a quick inspection, eyes and nose, she nods, clarifies her thoughts and airs them for confirmation, though none of it is really a question.]

It's not something you wear. It's something you are.

[Something he always is, she doesn't feel the need to specify.]

[ukan]

[He wishes he could still speak in this form, but failing that he hopes she understands canine body language as clearly as he does.]

Yes.

[dogwalksyou]

[She does well enough. It's terribly exciting, meeting someone else who is an animal and also a human, as opposed to an animal and a formless blaze of magic (like she is), and more importantly is not a cat. Her own posture is unmistakable.]

Wanna play?

[ukan]

Yes. Yes, let's play.

[His tail wags furiously now, and he bounds forward, stops, hops to the side.]

Chase?

[dogwalksyou]

[Chase is her favorite, and it shines off every line of her as she bounds after him.]

[ukan]

[He hardly ever gets to play with someone who can keep up, so he races as hard as he can, for the sheer joy of running.

It's been much, much too long.]

[dogwalksyou]

[She never flags. She pants hard, flanks heaving, sweats like a normal animal, as though she tires, but she is always, always close on his heels.

She is joyous too.]