#wizardspells

furries are on thin ice around me at all times thats all i have to say on the matter

For now, though, he tips his head back, letting the gentle flakes settle against his warm cheeks. The cool touch was almost soothing in a way

“JACK—”

A grating voice cuts through the quiet, followed by the heavy crunch of hurried footsteps against the snow. His ears twitch before he can stop them, a scowl forming instinctively as he turns toward the disturbance—kids from his class, he notes. Rowdy. Irritating.

“Jaaack~” A boy sings, his tone light and airy.

The group, he recognizes, were the rowdy sort— not enough to draw the teacher’s attention, but enough that he had learned to keep his distance. As far as he remembered, he had barely even spoken to the group in class, let alone outside of it.

What could they possibly want?

"Y’know… you're sooo strong–" The boy leans closer, as if he was letting him in on some kind of grand secret.

"Like, freakishly strong!" A different one interjects. He doesn’t quite recognize this one— though apparently, they know enough about him to have an opinion.

"Do you think it's because you're an animal?" A girl from his homeroom— he thinks— tilts her head up at him, eyes wide with an exaggerated innocence.

The question, much to his own confusion, sends the rest of the group into a fit of laughter.

He's a beastman. That much was obvious— it wasn’t like he was trying to hide it.

"What do you want?" He cuts in, his voice rougher than he intended, a low growl slipping into his words.

They flinch, drawing away from him. His ears twitch at the quiet whisper that follows. "So scary…"

He doesn't think he's scary. Sure, his Mom always says he could stand to smile more, but she never looked at him like she was afraid— nor did any of his family. If anything, they only ever teased him about his serious looks.

"You don't have to be so rude!" A drawn out whine. Did these kids have to be so noisy?

“We didn’t even finish!”

Their voices overlap, quick, defensive, and harsh against his sensitive ears. He’s reminded, faintly, of why he always kept to himself.

"We just wanted to know if you'd get a ball for us! We kicked it into the forest--"

"No." The answer leaves him before they even finish. The forest wasn’t a place for pups like him– a fact cemented into him by his Mom before he even learned to walk. She’d told him countless times: the woods were bigger than they looked, and even the most experienced wolves could lose their way if they weren’t careful. … Either way, he didn't like disobeying his mom much.

A beat.

"…Huh?"

"But why nottt!"

"Why would I? I don't like you." He really didn’t. They were loud, childish, and could barely keep up with him when they played games together. Even when they did, they complained constantly. Being around them was more annoying than fun.

Belatedly, he realizes that may have not been the right thing to say as he takes in their stunned faces. His Mom had always preached to him to be honest— to say what he meant without beating around the bush.