A heartbeat is not something that can, generally, be tampered with; it moves and reacts to it's owners senses. The undead it lays rotting, for humans in this time it's kept accelerated and alarmed constantly pinning itself against the spine and rib cage with every fluttered pulse. Kyra, was human in the kind of way a wolf is a four year old's puppy. When you place an undomesticated animal into the confines of the human realm there are, [i]accidents[/i], of sorts. Flooring you agonized over, which way the grain should go, oak, cherry, maple? All these trivial things seem so [i]fucking[/i] important but, either way that dog of yours will scratch it up you say, we need a carpet. Changes you make to fit this creature into your lifestyle, daily walks, feeding, attention.
The wolf does not require your thoughts it does not reflect on them, it's tail remains stationary held slightly erect as if waiting to strike. There is no warning rattle on such an animal; nothing but the crimson staining that lovely pristine white shag carpeting. Screams remained trapped in vocal chords, jaws secured against the wind pipe. As your child sits, eyes glazed over, heart beat, erratic, the animal raises it's gaze, remains calm and still. It does not belong. It's steps are pronounced, each muscle flexing in time with it's pace. Head lowering but a fraction of an inch regarding the scent of fear, of absolution, and of a stale peace.
A wolf can not [i]feel[/] the way we perceive our childhood pets did; pets that listened to stories or worries, to your tears, ever vigilant these hero's of our youth. The wolf is no Hero, Kyra, was no hero and had not heeded any call to be one, if there had been one to begin with. Her gaze carries a depth in which souls have been lost on their mission to try and redeem some shred of her former humanity. She houses these souls, perhaps as banners of warning, or maybe a slight sense of showmanship. Her body remains relaxed as the damp rock face digs in against her spine. Eyes closed as a huff of air brushes against her collar bone, goosebumps raise out of the contrasting temperature shift.
"Hello Beautiful."
Her tone of voices fits the way she pushes off against the wall; there's no bones involved but as if her entire frame is only under the law of the air itself. There is no gravity needed, her lower half twists one ay as her torso raises but an inch to bring her face to face with lilac eyes. She does not care about the rest, the hulking uncountable weight of pure muscle and death, this does not affect her. She takes a step back, her foot placement methodical and graceful, a brush of summer breeze there, a dash of springs caress. She slowed however, neck leaning to the side causing her entire posture to shift, emulating the jaguar like animal before her.
"Sh, don't be afraid"
She spoke as if it understood but it didn't and neither did she; it was all one relative stream of awareness at the better parts of the situation. There was a brief pause of silence before the animal exploded all of it's force moving from it's hind quarters propelling it into the air. The transition was smooth, but Kyra moved quicker, her knees pushing outwards as her back dipped behind her, knees fully lowering the plank to the ground, palms touching that slick earth. She could feel the heated mass arch above her and had the urge to reach out and graze the underbelly but remained motionless, heartbeat, still, calm, poised.
There was a thud on the other side of her and she rose as if invisible strings brought her up for air. She did not bother to look behind her but let her hands catch onto the railing. It was cool under her palms, knuckles whitening, sweat beading the surface of her skin. Something dragged and shifted behind her as she copied the earlier seen movement. Her knees bent and the force built un her legs before propelling upwards. One hand lifting to cross the other and shift herself sideways pitching her over the thing metal structure. She smiled, soft and distant, somewhere someone was screaming as her hands caught hold of wire and she spun riding it down, feet touching onto another level, gaze shifting upwards to see the flash of scales, those lilac eyes. She saluted, there was nothing here for her, but there was nothing anywhere else either.
At least here she was know for what she was, there were sheep, lots of them, and sometimes she was starving. If only because they had learned to keep their distance from the [i]inhuman[/i] girl. Her palms rested flat on molded rock, still slick from the water collecting, or maybe blood it didn't honestly bother her either way. She hoisted upwards and reclined into a position she could lay down in. Contorted slightly so she could see over the lip of the structure, ever vigilant Kyra.