try to guess / open

[cyantist]

[align=center][div style="width: 540px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]"Go ndéana an diabhal dréimire do chnámh do dhroma."

The curse comes out as an irritated hiss, the Cu Sith watching as her prey slinks away and out of her sight down the rabbit hole. She has half a mind to start digging, but the rabbit will still be long gone by the time she finishes trying to dig it out, so she might as well just give up. If she was better with her magic, perhaps she could smoke the bastard out. But, she is not in the realm of the Fae so her powers are distant at best, like trying to grasp and form fine sand into something useful and powerful.

The magic here is faint. Perhaps Titania made her come here to learn how to fight and hunt without her powers - it wouldn't shock her. She may have been mortal with mortal parents, but Caithe remembers nothing of them. Her first memories are the days of endless summer, the warmth of a never-setting sun. The smile of a Queen, with her delicate features and eyes as bright as the summer sun. The Fae are her family and she is to act as her Queen's servant. And she wants Caithe to train amongst the mortals, then she will.

It doesn't mean she has to like it.

She huffs, throwing a paw down the hole and trying to see if she can catch anything. Unfortunately, all that happens is that she gets her paw stuck, huffing and muttering curses underneath her breath as she comically attempts to yank her paw out. When it finally does come loose, she skids backwards with the force, landing flat on her ass and scowling the entire time.

She didn't have to like it one bit.

[Beatles.]

[align=center]

—-  & As if from out of nowhere, a voice broke the silence. "I think you'd be better off catching yourself a deer or somethin'."

Along came Bones, his brown and vaguely (yet normally) judgmental stare focused on the fae as she sat back on her haunches, obviously having exerted physical effort. He noticed her paw smudged with dirt, and although he hadn't witnessed the whole thing from the start, he pieced it all together. A rabbit had made its escape, huh? Bones had caught rabbits before, though he had mostly lived off of dog kibble for most of his life. Rabbits and other rodents were fresh and meaty, as long as they weren't diseased. "At least those can't hide in holes." He muttered and took another step forward.

The German Shepherd proceeded to ask her, "Is your paw okay?" He knew that she had gotten it wedged into the rabbit hole and that some effort had been required to yank it out. As someone who was medically inclined, he felt the need to make sure that she hadn't sprained it or hurt herself by doing so.

[WINTERWOLF]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]To say that Winter believed in magic might sound foolish to anyone else's ears. He was stoic and irritable, everything about him screaming that he kept his feet solidly on the ground. And the powers people displayed — those were hardly magic, right? They were rarer here than they were back home, but people still threw fire like it was nothing. Perhaps it was nothing. He had never been able to do it himself, even under duress. No, he was normal. Boring. Magic was something else entirely and even though Winter doesn't have the experiences that Caithe must, to speak of mortals, he believes. Not in fate, or destiny (his choices would always be his own to claim, as would the consequences), but something more elegant than both. Was he a spiritual man? No. Some things, however, were difficult to deny. In this case, the lion is simply reminded of luck. Unlike Bones, he had been close enough to lift his head and see the struggle with the dirt, attention drawn to prey and muttered curses.

Unforgiving amusement makes his expression seem both softer and harder than usual, yet it's cleared entirely before he steps closer to the group. Neutral, that's what's easiest. "That would be an embarrassing way to injure yourself," he remarks dryly, tone anything but a gentle jest. "The rabbit won."