Who is Silver?
Tw: Exotrauma including child neglect and murder
If I were to create my ideal body, I would start with a twink: thin with smooth skin and pretty features. I would stretch that body until it was tall and angular, then I would add small, firm breasts. I would replace the head with that of a hound; with a long snout and pricked ears. The hair would become a mane of grey fur, cascading wildly down the back. The body would be covered in a fine layer of the same grey fur. As for hands, I guess I appreciate manual dexterity enough to not completely transform them into paws. However, I would still need claws. How else would I defend myself?
With all that in mind, I am still half wild fey. The ability to change my shape is inherent to who I am. Yes, my forms are limited, but I am still as able to run on four feet as on two. I am not surprised to fall asleep with human features and wake up fully canine. And small alterations are easy enough. Mending wounds is simply a matter of understanding how the body works. Hiding my pointed ears takes the easiest of glamours. While it’s annoying to look fully human, it takes no energy to maintain the form.
In my days as a hunting dog, I was not considered breeding quality. Therefore, sex is not something I’ve put much thought into. The few experiences I have had were nothing compared with a meaty bone. I do, however, enjoy an occasional fuck. It’s a good bonding activity and the sensory input can be fun. That said, I am glad that surgeries have progressed to the point I don’t have to risk producing pups. I have no desire to raise them.
For partners, I prefer an alpha. I don’t mean this in terms of a human man who has got too big for his britches. I’m talking about a solid leader who can manage their pack. That is to say, I look for someone knowledgable, caring, and brave enough to defend the group. What they have between their legs doesn’t matter much to me. I am also quite willing to be this leader if I must.
I love my pack, my friends and chosen family, wholeheartedly. Likewise, I am happy to have multiple partners and their partners also gain my loyalty. I don’t differentiate much between romantic and platonic partners. I love all of them equally. My affection doesn’t diminish with time. It would be hypocritical to care about how long it has been when I, myself, forget time passes regularly. So I feel the same love towards my first girlfriend as I do towards a high school acquaintance who I’ve recently become close to. As long as harmful actions are not taken, my loyalty is forever.
I am a witch and a sorcerer. In my current life, in our current body, most of my magic isn’t possible. It would simply take more energy than this body possesses. In short, it would kill the body. This is very annoying.
As mentioned, I am used to shifting between bipedal and quadrupedal locomotion. Being stuck in a short, fat, weak body is a nightmare. Not that this is a bad body. I just feel trapped. So I use witchcraft.
Witchcraft is, to me, the art of tapping into the energies of the world around you. I use herbs, rocks, and candles to power spells directed by my intention and actions. I draw sigils and design collages that capture that energy and guide it down desired paths. In this small way, I can shape reality to fit my needs. I still miss the bigger magics that I accustomed myself to. That said, it’s probably a good thing I can no longer stop people’s hearts with a touch. I am too traumatized for that to go well.
This body’s trauma isn’t mine to share. But my trauma, before this body, is enough. Being a bastard in my first life who didn’t live up to the roll I was created for was bad enough. Maria ignored me for the most part, but what child wants to know they are a disappointment? At first the wild, fey god who fathered me resented me too. But my half siblings on both sides helped. Elizabeth taught me witchcraft and Stag (Hi!) taught me how to be one with the woods.
Then there was the whole incident that led to me being sent to boarding school. I don’t really remember it, except that many people died. I was told it was my fault. So that wasn’t fun. And, of course, being trained to kill was horrific.
School, in itself, wasn’t terrible. I was a good student, even then. I worked hard and learned discipline. The teachers were nice. I think Grandmother might have been there, keeping an eye on me. I liked working my body and mind. But having to stay away from the other students, for their safety and mine, wore on me.
I don’t have a good way to end this. So I’m just going to invite anyone who sees this to ask questions. What do you want to know about me? What about my story intrigues you? Should I ask the others to write up their histories? Stag (Helloooo!) probably would.