No_Creative_Name
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Chapter 83
🕑 Added 2024-03-31 16:05:45 +0000 UTCMy hopes of an all-magical pack were swiftly dashed as I cycled through every member of my brood. Other than the early discovery of Solia as one who, as far as I could tell, would evolve when next she rested, there were precious few new magical keelish. Etra and Cree both needed only a couple of easy hints to finally evolve to acquire their magic, which seemed to be a more limited and generally weaker version of Sybil’s. Percral gave me the feeling that he might develop some magic later, but he wasn’t close enough to evolution for me to do anything other than give some general advice.
Took, Treel, Brutus, Ilne, and Katre, who I’d had high hopes for, showed no magical aptitude at all. The rest, though I’d not cultivated as close a relationship with them as I had with my closest advisors, I’d still thought that I’d get more magically inclined keelish out of my focus on evolutionary guidance. When I thought about it, though, I realized just how lucky I already was.
My pack numbered fifty in total and, counting myself, there were eight keelish that could already use magic, those being myself, Sybil, Vefir, Foire, Shemira, Etra, Cree, and Solia. In addition to those, Percral would probably gain some magic well before reaching adulthood. If there were no changes in our numbers by the time Percral qualified for that evolution, then there would be nearly one in five of my pack that were magical in some way. Compared to the Viertaali tribe, where only one or two were magically gimped, it did seem unimpressive. However, in all the hunts I’d ever conducted of keelish, and in all those that the Viertaali had ever participated in, I’d never seen or heard of a magical keelish.
Sure, there had been legends of them, but I’d never heard of a magical keelish as anything other than a warning of why you couldn’t let the swarms grow unchecked. In those tales, a magical keelish was like… a High Speaker in every one of the Callings, and even my mother, accomplished and powerful as she was, was only a true High Speaker in Earth and Flamespeaking while bordering on that level in Soulspeaking. She was the strongest Speaker I’d ever known personally, and could be considered an anomaly. Still, someone like her was more common than a magical keelish, and here I was, wanting four dozen of them obeying my every whim, only one moon after hatching.
I shook my head at my foolishness, and, having thought so much about my mother for the first time in so long, I was suddenly gut-punched by how much I missed her. Of course I didn’t miss Viilor, and I hadn’t been too close to most of the rest of the tribe, given how I’d been raised to be their ruler from a young age. But my mother… had been my tutor, my parent, and my greatest supporter, all in one. I’d kept myself completely busy from the moment I awoke until I collapsed to sleep at the end of the day since my rebirth, but here, where I took a long stretch of time to think about the future and made comparisons to my old life… I felt a fierce knot begin to form in my throat.
It burned my throat and kept me from swallowing, and though keelish have tear glands to clear their eyes, they don’t cry and aren’t made to. Instead, I felt my body cool, my arms beginning to darken to my perception as I felt myself withdraw into a moment’s misery. The Stone thought I was dead. Even if I eventually found the tribe, I could guarantee I wouldn’t be shown any sort of leniency, even if I could speak in a way that they could understand. Maybe, if I was such an interesting specimen, one of the tribe would try to form a Soul Companion’s bond with me, and from there I could try to communicate–
I cut the thought off there. It wouldn’t happen, not for a variety of reasons, and I didn’t need to list them to try to convince myself of it. Instead of thinking of a way in which I might survive by submitting myself to a superior force, I needed to become an equal, if not superior force, myself. Then, I might be able to communicate with some humans. But how? I hadn’t tried to speak any language beyond the keelish since I’d been reincarnated, except for once I’d tried to Call. Another thing to practice within my quarters before I rested, I supposed.
Thus far, I’d given all of the pack individual guidance, with the exception of Shemira and Sybil, Sybil who I somehow felt wanted to be last, and Shemira who still hung onto Sybil’s every word and deed, though she was beginning to mellow from the blatantly facetious to less agonizingly teasing.
“Shemira.”
At my call, she immediately approached and, after just a couple steps of her flouncing, Shemira transitioned to her “real” walk, stepping confidently forward before taking a neutral stance and standing stoically before me. For a moment I observed her, looking not just at her physical beauty, but the strength that she willingly hid behind her overtly sexual facade. She had almost always been involved in hunts, and until this ambush with the wolfstags, I’d never seen her wounded. Looking at her now, I didn’t see a single scar, and that served, more than anything, as a testament to her competence.
Those observations came to a head, and I finally spoke to her. “Shemira. You are more than your beauty, and more than your manipulations. You can be strong and beautiful. You must better meld them. Redouble your efforts in developing your strength, and it will fuse with everything else that you already are into something more than you’ve dreamed you dare be.”
For a moment, Shemira cocked her head and observed me, then, with a gentle nod, she accepted my words and retreated. After a gentle bump of her hip against Sybil, who nearly didn’t recoil, Shemira approached Took and began to speak with her in quiet tones. At that, I turned to the final of my pack, Sybil. She waited for me to call her name before she stepped forward, just as the rest had.
As with Shemira, I observed my Beta. She had a couple of small scrapes and injuries from the wolfstags, but nothing noteworthy. Compared to Shemira’s obvious and overwhelming beauty, Sybil was plain, far from ugly (whatever that was in a keelish), but wholly unnoteworthy. Regardless, looking at my steady, powerful, and immensely competent supporter, I desperately wanted to give some sort of wonderful advice that would allow her some immediate and new power or evolution.
I could feel Sybil’s willingness to grow, to listen to sound advice. And suddenly I knew that there really wasn’t much I could offer her now. She was on her own path, and she knew where she needed to be and to go. I let the barest hint of a smile crack my face, and I swore I could see the same in Sybil’s.
Before I could say anything, she bowed her head slightly before wordlessly stepping away. I could hear speculations abounding in the pack, but all I could pay attention to was keeping myself from chuckling in front of the curious and taken aback pack.
Comments
No_Creative_Name
Not entirely sure I understand. Is magically gimped not a correct term here?
Tsula
two were magically gimped, Poor things, insulted by a typo.
