#molteon

Clarigosa looked across the room at her brother. No one had to tell her that she and Molteon were related; when she’d looked at him she knew it. It just made sense. He was either sleeping in the depths of his lava cavern or ignoring her entirely. Earlier he’d stolen one of their human girl’s earrings and refused to give it back. Their girl had closed the door to the rookery and told him he couldn’t have dessert if he didn’t give it back.

The black whelp had hissed and Clarigosa felt bad. He was a good boy! He was very fun and he did lots of air loops with her and he only chewed on her tail every once in awhile! And sometimes he filched sweets and snuck them to her.

In a show of solidarity, she had flapped into their bedroom and hid in her cave. At the back was her own small hoard. Shiny buttons, sparkly sequins, pieces of candy, and one pretty necklace made up the majority of it. The real gems of her hoard she wore as many females did. A few wrappers from candy she’d eaten laid in the snow of her ‘cliff’ and she whimpered.

Hungry.

She was hungry.

Clarigosa squawked and there was no answering cry from Molteon’s caves. Another squawk and still no reply! The blue whelp flapped her wings and did a lap around the room in an anxious, needy way. While the door was not locked it had a handle she couldn’t manipulate as a whelpling. Their ‘punishment’ was one that, if they so wished, they could walk out of the room.

Maybe that’s what their girl Amavia wanted!

Clarigosa squealed and landed on the floor. Whelps could easily adopt a humanoid form but she’d never tried. At the party they’d went to she’d seen Amigosa (Lovely, fun, pretty sister Amigosa!) as a girl! She could be a girl too! She had to try! Shifting back and forth on all fours, Clarigosa squinted her eyes shut and tried to imagine herself as a girl.

There was a hissing laugh from the corner. Molteon wasn’t busy! He was ignoring her! Mad as a little whelp who was treated like a beloved child could be, she turned to look at his area and stick out her forked tongue!

She could do it! She could she could she could!

And she did!

A short, black haired girl stood where the whelpling had seconds before. Her hair was in two pigtails and as sleek and shiny as her scales had been. Some of those blue dots colored her tanned wrists and elbows, giving a very strong clue about her origins. Squealing, she spun in a circle and closed her bright blue eyes in delight.

She’d forgotten to conjure clothes.

Molteon hid away in his burrow, ignoring her as she opened the door and stuck her tongue out at him again. He could hear her tearing down the hall all but shrieking.