The Shifter Wolf Festival

[Polly]

The harsh wind blew as snow fell gently to the ground. The world sparkled with white beneath the powerful moonlight; it was the light from a moon that had been full only days before. The stars were hidden behind snow and clouds, though the gathered shifters could almost feel them trying to shine through. The valley they reveled in was blanketed in thick mist. It was winter. And it was cold. Too cold. Even dressed in warm wolf skin and covered in fur, the shifters were shivering and their lips were turning blue. Those who could, played loud, happy music in order to inspire the others to dance and get warm.

Polly wished she could watch from the shadows. It would not be expected of her. Those knew thought they knew Polly believed her to be a sweet, social woman. Not even those in the Network knew how sadistic she truly was. Polly was there to make an appearance, make friends, and prove to the world that she was one of them. The truth was, she was far more dangerous than the wolves this festival hoped to keep away. Well, perhaps not in this setting. Polly detested the cold. She hated snow.

Instead of mingling as she had planned on doing, Polly sat on a wooden bench near the table loaded with food and drinks. She was huddled inside of her cloak; a beautiful thing made with white wolf fur. Deer hide boots peeked out from beneath, lined with more white wolf fur. While a lot of shifters were kind and took the fur from wounded, sick, or already dead wolves, Polly had the pleasure of killing her own prey. It was satisfying to wear the skin and fur of something that died in your own arms, from your own poison.

The werecobra stared out at the revelers with dark, unhappy eyes as she shivered in the cold. Her long pigtails were tucked inside the hood of her cloak, offering her neck what little protection they could. She wished she had a scarf. Instead she was there, alone and cold, while she watched everyone else dance. It was almost time. As soon as the wolves began to howl it would start. The elder Jonah had looked into the fire and chosen Lilvina to do the dance this year. A shadow sprite would dance around the flickering flames of the fire and scare away the wolves.

Polly did not want to admit to anyone that such a thing might be pretty. That would involve complimenting the woman. Polly did not compliment anyone for anything. She only murdered. Ice cold fingers searched for the comfort of her blades; four poisoned daggers strapped to her waist. Their presence comforted her even though she knew she could never use them there. Polly would not be so foolish as to act anything but friendly and personable, not around so many powerful people. Not that she looked very friendly sitting there with a pretty pout on her face, glaring at the world as though it had personally decided to betray her happiness.

She couldn’t help it. The cold! It was so damn cold! And she was hungry. The food behind her smelled delicious. So many kinds of meat! Oh how she longed for a bite of…anything! But that would mean pulling her fingers from the safety of the cloak. Polly was not yet willing to do that. Her skin was too sensitive. If she got any colder, her body may shift from the strain. That would make things worse. At least in human form, she was warm blooded. In cobra form, her body lost that inner part that kept things regulated.

Her attention was stolen when someone wearing a wolf mask jumped over the fire with a loud whoop. The fire roared and people laughed. Jonah really was amazing when it came to keeping the fire burning through the snow. The land around the fire was dry…and probably wonderfully warm. Polly bit her lip and processed her chances of being kicked in the face by dancers if she ventured closer. In the end, it probably wasn’t worth it. She would be dodging legs and feet only to be cleared away when it was time for the Honored Dance.

The only way Polly could get close to the fire, was join in the dancing. That would mean removing her thick, heavy cloak. Polly did not believe she could do that. This debate went on for quite some time in her head. If she did shed her cloak, then she might as well grab something to eat as well. It would be killing two birds with one stone….But at what price? If Polly shifted, it would be all bad. Then again, the phrase “killing two birds with one stone” sounded better than “waiting around like a damsel in distress”…

[Aila]

Aila loved the festival. Everything about it: the food, the dancing, the cheery faces... well, almost everything. She could definitely do without the cold. It was exceptionally bitter this year she decided, pulling her white wolf-skin jacket close to her face. She silently breathed her thanks to the spirit of the wolf who had died to keep her warm in this ridiculous cold. She looked around at her people, a small flicker of joy rising in her chest. Though they were facing a grave situation and a harsh winter, they had made time to stop and smile. She enjoyed the company of other Shifters, even when all they could do was glare at her with disdain.

They all blamed her for the alliance with the Mortals. She had met only a handful of her own kind who actually respected the royal family. To her surprise and eternal delight, she had even met a human who respected her. Not that it mattered to her. They could continue to think what they would. Someday, maybe even soon, she would prove them wrong. They would all think differently of her in a years time: this she vowed silently into the bitter cold.

She eventually decided it would be best to get something to eat. The wonderful scent of cooking meat had wafted under her sharp nose a few moments ago, and only then did she realize how hungry she really was. With a sigh, she heaved herself up from her seat on the ground, relatively close to the fire. She longed to drop this form and hide beneath the warmth of her wolf form, but she felt it would be innappropriate at the moment. But why? There were only other Shifters here now: why should she feel uncomfortable about it?
'Too much time around humans,' she thought grumpily to herself as she made her way over to the source of all the wonderful smelling food and drank in the delicious scent.

//Question: do I pretend like they never met each other? Like they did in the guild? Or do we keep that part?//

[Polly]

The shifter’s hungry eyes fell on Aila, their Alpha. It was interesting to watch her move about the festival. So many people hated her, but they all followed her. She was the Alpha. Her word was law…Unless they wanted to challenge her. So far, this had not happened. Civil unrest rippled through their people. It was only a matter of time before someone would try and take control. Polly envisioned her own fangs sinking in to the alpha’s skin. She imagined paralyzing her, making her completely helpless but aware of everything around her. And then she imagined the pictures she could carve into her leader’s skin as her blood slowly but steadily drained from her body…

And all of this was imagined with a serene look and graceful smile. Polly was the enemy nobody expected to see. Maybe her alpha would be her next target. Then the question would arise. Would Polly take the position as alpha leader? It was an interesting thought, but one she quickly dismissed. Polly had no use for power. Then again, it would be an entirely new game. No. Polly did not wish to get tangled in politics. She was happy with her life and had no desire to change it.

As though that thought strengthened her resolve on all matters, Polly flung her cloak to the ground, grabbed a stick with some kind of meat on it, and moved towards the fire. It was a very fluid transition. Her teeth tore into the meat with ravenous delight as she sauntered over towards Aila. “Enjoying your evening, Alpha?” Her demeanor was nothing but friendly and casual. Without the cloak, her long, waist-length pig tails were free to blow gently in the wind. They gave her an air of sweet innocence and easily counteracted the eeriness of her cold, black eyes.

Without her cloak, Polly was dressed in a strange style. She wore a white silk gown with cream colored trim and fur lined sleeves. Bits of crystal sparkled when it caught the light of the moon or the fire. It was belted around the waist with a brown leather belt. From there her daggers hung. There was nothing unusual about them; Polly was not the only shifter there with many weapons. Polly’s outfit was a more masculine cut. The gown was slit far up the sides and when she moved it was clear she wore matching pants beneath.

ooc:: Yes, I am playing Polly as though none of that happened. She knows you as shifter alpha and nothing more. You know that the Network suspects her of many assassinations but has no proof. She was invited to join but refused. She still does not know you are the leader of the Network.