furious fanged folly

The opportunity to do something with her life and unveil herself from her father's shadow was enlightening for the babe. No matter how others may have perceived Banshee she felt like an ant beneath the paws of giants at times. Preciously she had been her father's first born and presumed the heir to his 'rightful throne' but now that Deathbelle had the Klein crown she felt like she didn't belong anywhere. That was until Sirius had found her and she had found Iroh again. Between the two males she had been given a glimmer of hope that one day she could be her own Wolf and not just Hannibal's daughter.

All of those nasty insecurities and worries were literally whittled away. Banshee worked with caution but as she went on her movements became slightly more natural. Of course her first spear would look shabby and flawed. But, hopefully as time went on and she practiced away the babe would get better. Thus, as she finished with the spear and her mentor took a look at it she cracked the tiniest of smiles. Ban felt a sense of accomplishment as he mildly critiqued her work. Obviously it was far from perfect, but as he mentioned it would get the job done. "Noted."

Banshee moved the spear closer to herself as he passed it back after the inspection. Beaming blue eyes flicked from the tool to his own searing optics as she took in his vocals. He clued her in on the fact that she would indeed get use to the grinding feeling on her fangs as well as eluding to the many other uses of the mutation. Banshee was finding uses for her fangs with each and every day. Now that the pain of them growing in had subsided she had full use of them. "I will be happy to learn how to truly take full advantage of them." An idle tongue flipped across her teeth and flicked at a fang before their focus changed to the spear once again.

Sirius instructed her to begin smoothing out the tool by going over the tiny stumps where twigs once grew and the natural curvaceous bumps. Banshee leaned down to begin grinding down the wood with her fangs. The odd feeling began to feel a bit more normal as time went on. Every now and again the yearling would tilt her head to switch fangs or take a peek at her work to find a new stump to grind down. She was sure to not cut any corners. This was not a race nor did she feel the need to hurry. Sirius had a broken leg and had nothing better to do at the moment. Banshee was there to take full advantage of their mutual willingness to practice.

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