Miles Riverbend
"You underestimate me, Miles. I think you should be the one to worry about that," Touya smirked before his body began changing.
Miles had witnessed it several times before, but even still the transformation stunned him. Watching a phenomenon he could only describe as surreal, the Beast Slayer blinked several times throughout the process, unable to fully accept the sight he was witnessing. Hands changed to paws, skin rapidly grew out tufts of silver fur. The most drastic of these was Touya’s face. Extending out, his entire bone structure altered, widening his jaw into a visage of a canine predator. Realizing the therian had morphed into a majestic wolf, the Beast Slayer looked entirely perturbed by the makeover.
“That’s a fabulous party trick. Is that how you snuck up to the caravan?” he remarked, lifting an eyebrow at the wolf. Touya returned a smirk to his comment, revealing a set of razor sharp teeth, before he set off in a westerly direction. Fortunately they were already by the West Gate.
Watching the therian go pouncing into the tall grass from atop his horse, Miles gripped the rope of his reigns tightly. Reflecting on what Touya revealed brought him no small measure of comfort. He had no idea the therian’s were so closely connected that they could sense each other’s presence. That meant the element of surprise was void unless they split up. To make matters worse, they had no army to support them. No task force, no Jaeger Guard, nothing but two disgruntled swordsman. Miles had seen better odds at a rigged gambling den. What exactly did Havoc expect them to do with so much stacked against them?
“This is a massive waste of time,” he grumbled, reluctantly kicking his horse to action. He set off after the therian, adopting a brisk pace to keep up with Touya’s new form. For more nimble than even his horse, Touya weaved through the grass without dilemma. “Well, I guess if I get hungry I can always get Touya to turn into some beef, or chicken.”
For the better part of a week the duo lived it out rough on their journey to kill Vals. As Touya would learn, Miles was a sociable individual, but one that was better suited to the luxurious dining halls of high society. Talkative and good humored, Miles seemed quite capable of conversing with the therian despite the social disconnection between cultures. Unlike Damea however, Miles had a tendency for snarky cynicism and obnoxious insensitivity. In fact, it was easy to attribute the qualities of a petulant child to Miles. The man had spent practically half their time complaining about their circumstances, fervently wishing he was in the city drinking and screwing instead.
Nevertheless, a sharp cunning existed behind the jovial façade. Miles had not spent his time with the therian idly. Never one to be fooled by gentle appearances, Miles’ frustrating behavior was rather deliberate at times. Mentally gauging Touya for weaknesses, quirks, and habits, Miles hoped to learn enough about the therian to at least alleviate the majority of his reservations, or confirm them. It was precisely that method that he employed then as they travelled along the dirt road, travelling ever more westwards, travelling ever further away from his beloved city. Not that he had much else to do given the scarcity of decent company. Touya and Miles had only stopped to meet traders on the route to what west given the therian's desperate insistence to save his comrades.
“Why do you braid you hair like that?” Miles asked abruptly. Touya had transformed back to his humanoid form now that they were drawing dangerously close to their quarry. “It’s not particularly functional. Someone could yank on it in a fight you know? Or it could get caught in some chains.”
“I think you should cut it short. Isn’t it a pain to wash also?” he twittered, layering on the criticism. “Empire’s teeth, I don’t know what they teach you at therian combat school. And that’s another complaint I have also, your combat form is all over the place. I’m beginning to think they don’t train you to use your abilities properly at all.”
They trotted on, the sounds of hoofs clapping mixing with the Beast Slayer’s general chatter, “You guys are always so fond of whizzing about. You’re like those new steam trucks with more horse power than they know what to do with.”
“And are we there yet? My hands hurt and it’s cold. I think I’m going to get frostbite at this rate.”
If Touya cared to look back, he would have bore witness to a shivering Beast Slayer. Miles’ elbows were tucked in as close to his sides as possible to maintain his body heat, so much so the man looked uncomfortable on top of his horse. He put on a sour face, evidently despising the exposure.