Washakie National Park Father!
#1

full moon at whatever point in the night makes it more convenient to join other full moon threads if wanted
Dressed like Remy



Doguin. He liked that name.

Now, he was getting the gist of this whole dog thing. How to activate it, how to turn it off.

He paced around beyond the reach of the county, not hungry for once, but restless. He'd been really good about pretending to be dead, or so he thought.

A rare feeling out here was the weight that came with others like him — others he avoided. Unfortunately, he felt that now.

He made an unconvincing "woof", less because he was not actually a dog and more because his dog form irl had the most bullshit woofs.
#2
Beauregard liked a good full moon. Not every one provided with him adventure, of course. The world was large and the shifter population, while more considerable than he preferred, was small.

On the lucky nights he encountered one, it was nearly always entertaining. Some had more personality than others. Often he found singers, joined a chorus with them. On occasion, they were empty headed, and his meet and greets were shorter for it.

Tonight, he found something else. Fluttering along, swirling between limbs, he saw a doglike creature in the distance. A coyote? Some other species he'd seen only in documentaries?

Alas, the answer was neither. As he settled upon a branch some yards up, he was faced with the familiar absence of odor and heartbeat.

"Dog!" he announced to the creature who was anything but.
#3
Dog! Yes! And that came from a voice that was somewhere not level on the earth with him, but... upwards. Up up up.

His eyes remained keen even in this form, keener than a real dog's would be. But it was still hard to catch sight of something that had stopped moving.

So.

"Squirrel?" he asked.

What else would be in trees.
#4
Watching a domestic dog look up and about for him was tickling, if nothing else. Beauregard pitied those turned into dogs and cats. Perhaps such species naturally invited victims closer, but Beauregard found just as much success as a bird, without the need to paw around barefoot on the ground.

"Hmmm," he began, leaning in just slightly to peer more directly toward the hound. His head tilted slightly, the result of curiously placed eye sockets. What a classically canine answer.

"Try again, perhaps."
#5
Now he saw him.

Joaquin approached the base of the tree, rising onto his hind legs and resting his front paws on the trunk.

"Eagle," he answered, and this time it was a joke. His tongue lolled dumbly out the side of his mouth.
#6
The dog was taller than Beauregard expected, stretching up that far. He could not smile, beak stiff as it was, nor could he perform much in the way of emotive eye expression. Instead, the other vampire would simply have to trust that he was amused.

"Second try's the charm!" he cheered, wings spreading, bowing forward as his tail served to balance him. "What big ears you have, dog. I imagine they help with finding attention."

If nothing else, Beauregard's attention was currently held.
#7
Were his ears big?

"Never seen em," he answered that. This was a vampire, but if he just... didn't make eye contact, and also didn't switch back. He'd be okay.

"Are they bigger than... my face?"
#8
Beauregard considered the animal's dopey face, the way the jowls and skin were pulled with gravity.

"Combined, perhaps," he said. "You've never changed forms in front of a mirror? You're missing out."

Not a brand new vampire, he supposed, but perhaps one who hadn't truly considered every opportunity for his dogged form.
#9
"No. Maybe there's a mirror out here," he answered curiously, turning around and looking out into the distance.

No mirror :(
#10
Hmm. Perhaps a bit of dog in the brain.

Beauregard considered his options. The full moon was typically a time of anonymity for him as well. He stuck to the bird form, as if it were similarly forced upon him as the shifters were chained to their beastly halves.

He could offer to take a photo of the dog, to enjoy the simple pleasures of surprise. But that would rob him of his privacy. Hmm, hmm. He weighed his options before deciding that a friendly interaction with a rogue never hurt.

"I could take a picture, to show you, if you'd like."
#11
Whoa.

Whoa whoa whoa.

"Would I show up in it?" he asked. But also sat. And looked a bit like a frog doing so.
#12
Beauregard couldn't help but laugh, and so he did, openly, chittering down from the tree. Wings tucked, sitting handsomely, he endeavored to inform the poor dog.

"Vampires appear in photographs and mirrors, yes," he said. "Contrary to some popular folklore."

Did he fear garlic, perhaps? (Beauregard had, for a time, if he was honest with himself.)
#13
The laugh pinged some sense of familiarity, though he couldn't place from where.

"Huh. Okay. I mean- if you think it'll work. I'd love to see me."

Like this, anyway. Just like this, Joaquin.
#14
If he thought it would work. What a strange expression of doubt. Beauregard was a fairly looking source of power. It was hard to imagine that he gave off a sense of inexperience.

"If it doesn't work, I will eat my camera," he announced. With a few wing beats, he was fluttering toward the ground, mindful to keep some yardage between himself and the dog. He had no desire to be snatched from the air.

And then, in a moment, he was his handsome self, reaching for his phone in his pocket and mindfully nullifying any power this unfamiliar vampire might wish to show him.
#15
He switched to an old man, and while it made Joaquin pretty wary, there was something very vaguely familiar about him.

Too bad the angle he was looking up at him didn't allow him to recognize that French guy he met once.

"Would eating a camera make you throw up still?"

He knew that much.
#16
What a question. Beauregard decided this to be the sheltered sort of vampire. Socially competent, but not capable. Curious, all questions.

"Assuming I could get it back up," he said grotesquely. Beauregard worked past and ache behind his eyes to pull up his camera, approaching by some feet to take a picture.

"Say cheese," he said, readying the shot.
#17
"Cheeee..." he started, then paused. "Wait wait wait. That probably just looks like I'm gonna eat someone."

Rather than cheesing, he decided to relax his face. Relax, relax, relax. Tried to strive for "handsome."

Left a liittle tongue poking out his lips. Ended up with Maximum Dumb.
#18
He was easily convinced to patience during the posing process. Beauregard certainly understood the need to position just right.

The end result, however, left a bit to be desired. Someone needed practice in front of a mirror.

He snapped the picture, and it was not excellent photography. The horizon askew, the dog framed a bit low. But it was a start. Beauregard turned the phone around to offer the picture toward the dog, uncertain as to what angle to hold it. He trusted the canine to adjust as needed.

"Visible as can be."
#19
He hopped to his feet, only too glad to be out of sitting position. His tail curled loosely above his back (and it was very strange to have a tail at all) as he looked at it, then stepped back to get a view that was clearer.

"Wow," he committed it to memory. "Thanks. Helps a lot."

Did he look like a dog Minnie would like? He thought so. Maybe he'd make Dude mad.

Still worth a shot, if just to hang around.
#20
It was a subdued response, but he supposed this vampire had already gone through the stages of mourning that inevitably came with such an unfortunate animal form.

"Again, you may find a mirror helpful," he suggested, tucking the phone away.

"You know it is the full moon, yes?"

Truthfully, he expected a "no."
#21
Uh.

He glance up to the sky, then huffed.

"Guess it is, yeah," he answered, though his tone was one of curiosity.
#22
A certain brainlessness persisted. Beauregard always wondered what drove rogues to remain alone when it always seemed to set them back.

"Shifters are out and about on the full moon. They have no choice but to be animals. It is quite dangerous to be strolling about as a dog when a bear could devour you quite easily. Or a wolf. Or a large cat."

There were so many varieties of the last group.
#23
Ah, that. Right. Knowledge Joaquin bore given his prior job, but did not feel the need to wave around. And truthfully, he felt like he could move faster if he needed. Not in this form, but...

"Are they really that strong?"

He knew the answer, but maybe best to play into what he'd inadvertently displayed as ignorance here. This man seemed keen enough to teach.

Maybe he could drop something Joaquin didn't already know.
#24
Oh, the fool.

"And faster than you, in that form. There's a reason I stay in the trees."

And, on cue, he fluttered up to do just that, a whirl of feathers and white bands as he took to the safety of the lower canopy again. Not leaving yet, precisely, but removing himself as a sitting duck so conveniently loitering on the forest floor.
#25
Ah. Convenient for him. Joaquin himself paid attention to other sounds, but nothing seemed to be approaching then.

"Did you choose it? What you turned into."
#26
Shaking his head was strange as a bird. It required exaggeration. Here, he was too subtle, decided to include a verbal component as well.

"No. Purely luck. Or some cosmic math I'm not familiar with."

Beauregard's turn to ask questions again.

"How long have you been a vampire?"
#27
Now, every step Joaquin took had to be measured when answering questions about himself.

Was it better to swing too long or too short?

"Less than a year," he answered. "You?"
#28
Oh.

Quite fast. Beauregard found it irritating, in fact. This answer. These miraculous vampires who reached tremendous heights in the blink of an eye. Something in the blood here, perhaps.

"A century," he said. "You've grown fast, then. Is your sire around? Whoever turned you."

By now, the nullification had faded on its own, his attention decidedly lapsed.
#29
Sire. Heh.

"She's not far from here, yeah," he answered, thinking of that woman who had taught him how to command people. Made his life so much easier now.

"Yours?"
#30
She. Beauregard ran through every female vampire he'd ever known, as if one would conclusively appear in his mind as The One.

"Long gone."

He actually wasn't sure who turned him, precisely. Vampire by committee, but he'd turned out well for it.

"The two of you are disinterested in clutches? Or making your own, perhaps."
#31
There was this... clutch talk.

"I dunno. I let her make the decisions, but I think she hasn't been interested. Do you... have one?"

He did not immediately equate the bearing down feeling on him as being from a leader. How could he, when he'd rarely been in their presences or known to connect the feelings.
#32
Hmm. He wondered who she was. Someone making her own, he had to assume. Ridgefield was full up, as far as Beauregard was concerned. Perhaps if two shared a space.

"I lead one," he said simply.

It was tempting to provide more details, but he felt better served sharing one at a time.
#33
"Oh, wow."

His eyes went appropriately pretty wide at that, which looked ridiculous on his face, but. Like. For real, wow.

"Which one? I could tell her where we can find you, if she decides to change her mind."
#34
Which one. So they knew of multiple. Beauregard was tempted to ask which ones the dog was familiar with, but he recognized the aura that would put off.

Some paranoia was best kept to himself.

"Alder Heights," he said, then tuned in as closely as he could to gauge a reaction beyond that doggish face.
#35
If he had a heart, it would thunder in the barrel of his chest.

Thankfully, nothing there, but it still left him with a pinprick of heightened awareness.

This was... definitely the man he'd spoken to on the phone.

"That, ah. That's impressive. I've heard of that one."

Yeah. He. Should go.
#36
Interesting.

Beauregard tried to recall this particular rogue. There was a familiarity to his voice, or perhaps his demeanor. Or perhaps it was imagined entirely.

Animal forms did a number on recognition. Voices were not quite the same, typical mannerisms lost.

"Oh?" he prompted simply, curious if he'd hear more.
#37
It was too simple of a prompt. Left Joaquin uneasy.

"Nothing bad," he reassured, unsure if that was what this man was searching for. "Just, you know. You're well known even by us peasants."

A huff laugh. Trying to extract politely, not too fast.

"My name's John."
#38
The brief twang of tension subsided. The dog lightened. If only being dominus granted him an ability to peer through disguises.

"Peasants," he teased back, humored by it. "Beauregard. If you and your sire ever have an interest in a group, at very least, I can direct you as far as your options."

He had his doubts that time would come, but he'd done his part here.
#39
Beauregard.

Beauregard.

Beauregard.

Leader of the planetarium heights clutch.

"Appreciated," he decided to end with, metaphorically biting his tongue on the natural inclination to chase his words with a "sir." He started to turn partially, take a testing step away.

"Hope to see you sometime."

Never.
#40
He responded with a cheerful flap of his wings.

"Perhaps in another form."
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