Calliope

w a n d e r l u s t

Soft threads of golden light danced through the scattered foliage and a gentle breeze scattered wistful whistles of nearby avians. The satin lyrics of those more aged fowl carried a heavier song, laden by those burdens of life and love through which they endured. More melancholy and plaintive of that which lain ahead of them. Contrary to their younger counterparts, whose melodious warbling brought forth a sense of journey and joy. Light hearted and content with what life had so easily handed them. With no care to what came next they carried on in their dream-like chorales. Cocoa drizzled pinnae swiveled effortlessly to catch each varying sound that touched against her sensitive tympanic membranes. The vibrations translated into those melodic fables of avian life, to which her canid mind would never fully understand. Only the tones, range, and pitches conveyed their stories and anecdotes of life, but still she listened. Calmed by their candid chronicles, because it was all she knew.

Not one of her own specie had intervened in the lady’s life. She was an epitome of free will so to say. A saga unwritten in her own language.

Claws clicked against stone as Calliopē tapped in rhythm to the sound of her pulsating heartbeat, breaking the flow the feathery winged creatures music. Creme lids remained draped over limpid oceans, not wanting to break the serenity of the starless skies behind her lids. The steady tick of her nails against the stone set a tempo. Steady, strong, and slow. And quietly a song began to emerge from within her petite and youthful frame. A delicate lilting tune carried on ribbons of breath so tender and delicate, it seemed as though the slightest gust of wind might wash this voice into the voids of time and space. Unstable yet untamable by natural forces or otherwise. Calliopē, meaning beautiful voiced, could not have been a more fitted name. And though she knew naught who had given her this title, she thought herself fitting of it. Calliopē was not a talker nor did she speak in words that were centered in beauty. The babe hardly spoke at all. Nay she had conceived a voice like no other. Angelic by design and lethal as a siren’s song, should she so choose one day. For now, the little lady was content to sing the songs of her avian company, without lyric, only melody.

Paws shifted steadily to support the babe’s weight as she rose, continuing to click a singular toe in rhythm. Hardly pausing in song to shake the debris from her pelt, her vocals rattling with untrained vibrato. Finally resolved of the contaminants, sleek and rich cremes and blondes mingled with brindling like chocolate syrup that was drizzled amongst the froth of whip cream. Soft lids lifted to reveal her crystalline cerulean orbs set within a porcelain face, whose cheeks were permanently blushed by a roses petal. Above all else though were the glittering Brazilian rainbow scales that decorated her limbs. Slated in perfect with each other, they slid with ease at each step. None pinched at the skin from which they sprouted or blistered below from friction. And to Calliopē, the ensemble that adorned her frame was normal. She had no interactions with other wolves and had only faint memories of other canids which she might have once known. None of them a clear picture. A heritage which she could not trace, but knowing no different she cared very little. It never crossed her mind that this londeristic lifestyle was not traditional; especially not at this age.

The young princess stepped tentatively forward from the cocooning duskiness that enveloped her homely hole. Trickling lackadaisical streams quenched her thirst and quieted her songs as she listening ever intently on the natural melody. Impossible to mimic she concluded, but nonetheless soothing. Rising she wandered alongside it’s banks, absently humming her own melody. A soft and haunting tune that echoed away from her being into the near silent shrubbery. Until a cold ringing howl broke the air with its dissonant waves. Calli twisted her pinnae away from the harsh vocals to deflect its bereft sounds. There was now one of two choices: to leave and forget the loneliness which the sound had stirred in her or to face to body of that disembodied voice. There seemed to be no ulterior motive that was inadvertently inflected into the howl, so the little dove thought herself likely to make a friend rather than foe of this being. Calli continued her stride without fault and hummed away her own song absentmindedly, until her own visionaries fell upon that now embodied voice. Her song faded away quietly. Her bright azures meeting the incandescent sapphires of the femme opposing her. Their brightness striking her as compellingly odd. The vibrancy of your eyes is rather striking, for I know the sun would not cause such a thing. It did not occur to Calli that this lass was unnatural or different, because she knew naught was normalcy was. What she perceived in these moments was, like for any other wolf, the meeting of a new friend. I hope my presence is no intrusion upon your own, I only thought to respond because of the...mixed vocal inflections in your howl. You sounded lonely, frustrated, yet determined. A mixture I’ve yet to hear before… Calli paused intermittently in her speech, her words being sidetracked by the thoughts in her head. I’m Calliopē, by the way.

Child of Kirastasia | Wild at Heart