[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.]
[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?]
[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.]
[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.]
[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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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.]
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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.]
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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...?
no subject
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?
no subject
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.]
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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.]
no subject
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.
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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?!]