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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, TRISH UNA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 867.53.099.99 * Zigazigah has joined 867.53.099.99 <Zigazigah> Don't talk to me. <Zigazigah>** Thanks.

Main Username: < Zigazigah >

Public Appearance UN: < Western_Horizon >

Anon: < sharpdistance > , < kidcharlemagne > (not actually anon now because of Hinata)

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[Perhaps surprisingly, Mukuro's tail is wagging again. Seeing Trish actually agreeing to try is a big deal. Mukuro's honestly a little surprised Trish is giving it a chance at all, rather than insisting on never allowing her front paws to touch dirt. It's exciting, having this chance.]

It's not so bad, right...?
Feels sturdy.

[Mukuro stays on all fours herself, taking a few bounds through the snow to one of the brittle dead trees nearby. She sits, looking expectantly back at Trish, eyes gleaming as they reflect the ambient light - eerie, probably, except for the fact that her tail is making a little cone-shaped divot in the snow.]

Bears are a lot stronger than wolves, too.
I bet you could smash this.

[The big mitts are useful for something! Powerful slaps! This tree is doomed if Trish can tap into her monster strength - Mukuro moves slowly, demonstrating the motion necessary.]

Move with your whole body and follow through.

[It helps that she's feeling more energized, and that she's already damaged her pride by belly-flopping into the snow, only for Mukuro to say nothing about it. They're also a ways out from the house, meaning Trish can either try in the safe bubble of privacy Mukuro has created, or walk back home with her tail between her legs. And Trish Una is many things, a coward among them, but she can't be that in front of Mukuro. It's simply not allowed.

Admittedly, it also helps that testing the snow reveals it stays when she puts her weight all onto one paw, instead of letting her sink entirely through to muddy ground below. That may change when she tries pounding the earth with her paws in a run, but for now, she stays grounded. In response to Mukuro meanwhile, she makes a small noise. Whether it's agreement or not is up in the air, however.

But Mukuro seems...happy, so Trish isn't explicitly complaining.

She lumbers after the werewolf, comparatively slow as she continues the "on all fours" endeavor, and she can't hide her surprise when Mukuro changes trajectory again. First run, now smash? But she's already failed run, so why...? Trish pushes herself up off the ground to rest on her haunches, looking to Mukuro with fuzzy brows raised as she looks from the werewolf to the tree and back again.]

I understand what you're saying, but I think I'd do as much damage to myself as I would to this tree.

[Trish is picturing bent and broken claws, splinters. She knows Mukuro is a seasoned monster and wouldn't say this if she didn't really believe another monster could pull this off, but it's a lot. Mukuro's confidence will only be misplaced as it was mere minutes ago.]

[Mostly it's that here in the woods, they have trees and no witnesses. If they run too far and end up closer to town, they may end up with nothing but cars and mailboxes. Mukuro's generally down for random petty destruction, if it's the thing to do, but Trish might benefit more from a private demo first.

On that note, Mukuro hums, selecting a thick, sturdy fallen branch.]

You have a lot more strength than you realize.

[In more ways than physical, but now isn't the time to get overly mushy. No, it's time to be a cool senpai. She opens her jaws wide, all her gleaming teeth on display, a faint blue glow emanating from the interior of her mouth - and then snaps them shut, shattering the branch effortlessly. It looks about as easy as biting a carrot stick in two. With one satisfied thump of her tail on the ground, Mukuro then hooks one finger into her mouth for a moment to show her dark blue gums, totally unharmed. Obviously putting a stick in her mouth is beyond finicky Trish, Mukuro would never ask that of her, but it's the best example she can offer - her strength is much more in her jaws, not her limbs.]

It's better to get to know your limits now, so you can rely on yourself when you need to.
...And it's fun.

[There's no need, no, because Trish is struck by the poignance of that statement enough she blinks and tucks a paw against her chest.

She certainly doesn't feel that way most times, least of all when she's still a sixteen year old girl piloting a body she hardly understands. She's strong enough to pick someone up and throw them now, but to be fair to Steve, he's person-sized, and he turned into a little bunny rabbit mid throw. That's like throwing a wig or something.

Anyways, she's watched Mukuro move and jump at an impressive pace, but she's never seen the werewolf demonstrate her raw strength. She's about to obliterate that branch, Trish knows, but she still jumps at the crack! of wood as it's split by Mukuro's bite. Sure enough, Mukuro's teeth are unbroken and her gums are completely unharmed. She's blue on the insides of her mouth too, which is interesting.

And honestly? She sounds like Bruno with that statement, and Trish makes a face. Not a rude one, a thoughtful one.]

I don't know about fun, but I won't disagree that it's practical.

[Okay. So. This tree has been chosen by Mukuro, who handily demonstrated wood is nothing in their wake.

Trish pads a little closer, reaching to touch the tree with a broad paw. It feels plenty sturdy, and she glances to Mukuro again. Mukuro is smaller than her, she knows, so it should follow that she's at least as sturdy as her fellow monster.

She remembers the motion Mukuro showed her too, and rears her paw back like she's going to do it, but stops. Apparently Trish has to close her eyes first, since if this works there'll be shrapnel, right? Also, she may or may not be nervous, her other paw coming up reflexively to shield her muzzle further. Here she goes again, properly now, and she puts as much force behind it as she can.

It's hard to describe the feeling of wood giving way to her bare bear paw, but there's a crash and oh, God, what the hell. Hopefully Mukuro moved away! Trish peeks out from under the paw she ultimately ended up clapping over her eyes the moment her paw struck true, looking to make sure Mukuro is still there, instead of focusing on her handiwork.

The tree, meanwhile, lays broken in two, the branched upper half laying at an odd angle to signify this very much was not the work of a bored person with a saw.]

[Mukuro has to bite her tongue watching Trish prepare herself. It's just - it's so funny, seeing a huge bear act so hesitant and nervous. Funny and cute. Oh my god, look at her. But she keeps it together, because she knows the second Trish even thinks Mukuro is laughing at her, this entire day will be over - for all she knows, so will the friendship. This is important, and Mukuro really wants to help, and she's thankfully had years of experience keeping a straight face despite whatever internal situation she had going on.

And it's so worth it, because Trish finally does snap the tree like a toothpick, and Mukuro's clapping as soon as Trish looks up.]

That's it. Look--

[She bounds closer, drawing Trish's gaze to her own handiwork.]

It's totally separate halves. You barely felt that, right...?

[Mukuro had noticed a flinch, but it seemed more closely timed to the sound of it all, rather than the actual impact. There's no way Trish is hurt from this unless she got a very unlucky splinter in one of her paw pads.]

[Honestly, Trish would be so sad if she thought Mukuro felt that way? That laughing at her would end their friendship, specifically. Trish isn't a patient person, but Mukuro has been nothing but kind to her, and ending their camaraderie on such a petty note...she wouldn't dream of it!

That being said, Mukuro is correct in her estimation Trish would be too humiliated to continue with this endeavor. Her baby pride can't handle giggles at her expense.

Trish meanwhile is relieved to see Mukuro totally fine. No wood dust or shrapnel on her wolf-person. As for the tree itself...]

Oh.

[It's dead, Jim.]

You're right...I hardly felt that.

[It sounded far worse than it felt, frankly, and Trish looks from the fallen tree to Mukuro again, ears pricked forward.

Okay, so. She can knock down a tree without thinking. Trish looks down at her paw, which is a little dusty, and she shakes it off. She's still Miss Una under that fur, after all.]

I don't know if I should be happy or mortified.

[Trish can't fathom what she'd even do with strength like this??? Bleph.]

[Ohhhh, look at her little ears, all forward and interested. Mukuro breaks into a very genuine smile, picking her way closer to briefly touch her nose to Trish's paw in a show of support. It's pretty likely Trish won't really feel that much either, with her thick fur, but still.]

Happy.

[She sounds very sure, when she says it. Why shouldn't she be?]

See how strong you are...? I don't think I could shatter it like that, even.

[Knowing Trish, though, too much praise will make her shy. And it'll sound dumb and weird coming out of Mukuro's mouth anyway; she's not the type to layer it on like that. So instead, Mukuro turns away, glancing over one shoulder with her tail swaying slowly.]

Wanna see how fast you can run...?

[Seeing Mukuro smile is turning into a common thing, isn't it? Trish realizes they haven't had much cause to hang out, casually, and it's really because they live in two different worlds. She can't imagine Mukuro at Nai'a as a regular, and neither can she imagine herself as a bear lurking in the woods, watching the mist of her own breath and drinking in the cool, calm air.

But this is Mukuro's ideal world, and now that they're exploring it, she finds...it's not awful. She has warm food in her belly, and she just downed a tree like it was nothing. That power and total control over the environment and her body...that must be a huge contributor to Mukuro's seemingly unshakeable calm.

And she seems so happy to share it, that Trish doesn't wipe reflexively at her fur when Mukuro pulls away her wet, doggy nose.]

Happy.

[She echoes, still a little unsure. Mukuro was in some ways raised to enjoy this sort of physical power, she remembers. Trish emphatically wasn't, and it shows, but they get along despite that. Maybe there's a common thread here, other than the fact they're both weres.

She rubs at a furred forelimb.]

...Sure, I can try again. But if I fall down one more time, I'm done.

[The expression on her face about this matter is very serious in it's teenager way.

Still, she carefully drops to all fours and plods over to Mukuro's side. Having a goal helped, so Trish scopes out the stretch of snow across the horizon and considers various finish lines. Potentially Mukuro is doing the same?]

How far are we going?

[Yeah, that's fair. Mukuro would feel bad for her if she tripped and fell again, after all that. She stretches, first, unnaturally long forelimbs stark black against the snow, tail curling over her flexible spine. She is absolutely comfortable in this strange, unnatural form. It's hers, now, as much as her human body was before. Maybe even more, with how well-connected it is to the world around them. Peering forward, she makes an easy selection.]

That huge old tree on the hill.

[It's an obvious landmark, and it's far enough away that Trish will have time to get up to top bear speed on the way. Which is much faster than most people realize, and she's looking forward to Trish realizing how much further her limits are here too. She flexes her paws in the snow, then crouches, coiled and ready to spring forward.]

Three, two, one - go!

[And she's off, bounding through the drifts.]

[It's sort of fun to watch Mukuro be so naturally doggy. Trish can only appreciate as Mukuro shows off just how lanky she is, her fur speckled with snow, and against the winter backdrop, it's like the sky has come down to earth in the shape of a wolf.

She flexes her own extremities, not enough to be visible to Mukuro but just enough to experiment, and it startles her a little to watch her claws extend, if only because in this form, they're much, much longer. Her day forms seem so small when she thinks on them. But they both seem to be of a semi-retractable sort.

Mukuro picks their goal in the meantime, and Trish watches her crouch low, and...should she do that as a bear? Fortunately or unfortunately she doesn't have much time to think on it, and takes off after Mukuro in a bound.

The wolf ahead of her makes it look effortless, but it's apparent now that she's watching just how weird Mukuro's gait looks to her. Trish slows down long enough to watch what her paws do on their own, and there's a leading paw, but the gate is smoother, almost like they're moving in concert. Not quite, but her bulk means she needs front paws firmly on the ground to propel her forward, the same for back paws.

She's going to fall far behind Mukuro while she's analyzing herself, sure, but she's determined not to go ass over tea kettle. And what she finds is that there's...a rhythm to it. If she pretends, she can picture her hindpaws as a backbeat. Maybe it's silly to bring it back to music, but it helps her find her footing. She lopes after the werewolf, and plumes of snow rise up every time she lands on her paws.

It's...fun. Exhilarating when she thinks less about how odd it is, and more on doing it. She doesn't realize how fast she can go, either, but to Mukuro it goes from a dawdling pace to a swift, bounding run. Not as fast as Trish could go, but it's something. She's doing her best to catch up to the other were, still.]

[It's true, her proportions are off, which makes the way she moves on all fours strange compared to an average canine. She's clearly an unnatural creature, stretched-out and eerie - but there's unmistakable confidence and joy in how she moves, too. While Trish needs well-planted paws, Mukuro spends a large portion of her gait suspended in air, practically flying over the snow when she's pushing herself. But she's not, or at least, not all the way. She's not going to just roll over for Trish to win, that's insulting, but it's equally unfair to give it her all when Trish is only just now getting used to moving on all fours.

But it doesn't seem like she needs to just give up, either. Trish manages to find her rhythm, keeping pace with the more experienced werewolf, and Mukuro can't help a brief grin from spreading across her muzzle. This is fun. It's nice to show Trish just how fun being a were could really be, and the simple joy in the speed and freedom itself is something Mukuro's been well-acquainted with from her very first night shift.

She'd made sure to pick something far enough away that they'd need to run for a bit to reach it, but not so far that it'd leave Trish entirely worn out. They still have to make it back after this. As the tree comes up, Mukuro adjusts, slowing slightly and leaning into the turn - and reaches out one gangly arm, catching the trunk and using it to swing back around in one smooth wheeling motion. With a little spray of snow, she skids to a stop on two paws, tail swishing behind her as she beams at Trish.]

You kept up really well.

[Oh, Mukuro's so comfortable in her body that even as odd as she looks, there's no part that looks awkward or miserable. Her nearly serpentine body is fluid in motion, and she sails through the snow without a spray of snow to match, whereas Trish is practically plowing through it, the snow upended and tossed aside with each not-quite-mighty bound.

It's a fun contrast, and if there's a contest, Trish isn't thinking about it. It's clearly not the point. The point is the experience, the joy of moving in concert with a body she's refused to get acquainted with. The challenge aspect is a smart move on Mukuro's part, changing it from a game to something that requires focus.

All of this is a small step, in many ways, but it is a step. More than Trish has made in months on her own.

By the end though, she's definitely huffing and puffing, and when she stops, it's with a slam of her paws on the hillside, a plume of snow raining on the side of the tree that Mukuro thankfully isn't on. The werebear reaches up to paw some of the residual snow off her – person? no, off herself – looking to the grinning werewolf across the trunk from her with a rare, open expression of wonder.]

And here I thought I'd never see you again once you really got going.

[Said dryly, because it's Trish, but she can't help but look over her shoulder, and...wow.]

...Oh, we covered a lot more ground than I thought. You can see where we started.

[Because...there is a winding trail drawn in the snow by her. Bears will never be subtle, huh? But at least bears will also never get lost?!]

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