09-11-2017, 01:09 AM
He is a King, he should be protecting his lands and his people. Instead he is curled by her side, looking after her. The guilt is wretched and her soul grows restless despite knowing that her body was failing. It should be her looking out for them, not the other way around. A sword for hire, in a way. Since the day she had disappeared from the Dale, there had been no other path. The swirling strands of her eyes seem sluggish and slow in their swirling patterns and a ghost of a smile finds her lips as she sees the way he visibly sags, as if she could read his mind. No, this could not be her ending. How cruel and unfair that would be after fighting death itself. Escaping by the skin of her teeth.
The gold of his scales glitter beneath the pale light and she tries to focus on them even as her sight blurs. It’s as if she can see faces in the shine of each scale and she leans slightly closer to him, peering at the gilded surface of his cheek with fascination. The stars peek dimly from behind the clouds, a soft voice in her fevered state. A white mare who tenderly whispers words to her that she can’t hear. A magician with a kind face. A king that was lost. An unfamiliar face, dark and heavy, but she’s flooded with familiarity. A name she’s never known ringing like a bell in her mind. ”Atrox?” A confused and thick word that falls with weight from her tongue.
It’s too much, it makes her head spin. She closes her eyes to block out the images that press against her retinas, her forehead coming to rest against the crook of his neck. His voice sounds far away, faint, with a promise she can no longer make out. All the while Jah-Lilah was working her particular type of magic, the effect of her lullaby taking hold.
Half awake, half asleep. Each moment in the woman’s story relived in her dreams. The choice to go to the woods. The Leshen, huge and impenetrable in a suffocating forest. It’s twisted roots reaching for her, the gleaming white of the skull as it came for her. Running, can’t breath. The ravens, so many, ripping her apart with cruel beaks and sharp talons. The metallic stench of blood, copper on her tongue, as she crunched delicate bird bones between blunt teeth. The feel of feathers tickling the roof of her mouth. Sore, broken. Dragging towards the lake, this lake she dozes at now. Herself, young. The need to see. Betrayed, the siren awake and ugly. Long claws raking against her shoulder, she moans softly as the pain renews in her flesh.
The fire mare had brushed the mud against the wound and as quickly as the burning had started, it began to fade. Her dark muscles slowly unclenching as the pain reluctantly releases the firm hold it had. It no longer burns but merely stings, cooled slightly. The fever is less forgiving. She feels the warmth of the dreamweaver’s breath on her cheek, her goodbye. Her lashes flutter, wanting to reach out for her again. The stars brightening slightly above, acknowledging what the mare had done for one of their own. Their stories firmly aligned now, knowing in her heart that she needed to find her again.
Then suddenly the air is still as her electricity fades with her retreating figure. Her labored breath seems loud in her ears, suddenly aware of how close she is to him, how she can feel the rise and fall of his side against hers. Fighting between the fog, forcing the slow swirls to make him out. ”Beautiful…” She mutters to herself, as the moonlight catches him again.
The gold of his scales glitter beneath the pale light and she tries to focus on them even as her sight blurs. It’s as if she can see faces in the shine of each scale and she leans slightly closer to him, peering at the gilded surface of his cheek with fascination. The stars peek dimly from behind the clouds, a soft voice in her fevered state. A white mare who tenderly whispers words to her that she can’t hear. A magician with a kind face. A king that was lost. An unfamiliar face, dark and heavy, but she’s flooded with familiarity. A name she’s never known ringing like a bell in her mind. ”Atrox?” A confused and thick word that falls with weight from her tongue.
It’s too much, it makes her head spin. She closes her eyes to block out the images that press against her retinas, her forehead coming to rest against the crook of his neck. His voice sounds far away, faint, with a promise she can no longer make out. All the while Jah-Lilah was working her particular type of magic, the effect of her lullaby taking hold.
Half awake, half asleep. Each moment in the woman’s story relived in her dreams. The choice to go to the woods. The Leshen, huge and impenetrable in a suffocating forest. It’s twisted roots reaching for her, the gleaming white of the skull as it came for her. Running, can’t breath. The ravens, so many, ripping her apart with cruel beaks and sharp talons. The metallic stench of blood, copper on her tongue, as she crunched delicate bird bones between blunt teeth. The feel of feathers tickling the roof of her mouth. Sore, broken. Dragging towards the lake, this lake she dozes at now. Herself, young. The need to see. Betrayed, the siren awake and ugly. Long claws raking against her shoulder, she moans softly as the pain renews in her flesh.
The fire mare had brushed the mud against the wound and as quickly as the burning had started, it began to fade. Her dark muscles slowly unclenching as the pain reluctantly releases the firm hold it had. It no longer burns but merely stings, cooled slightly. The fever is less forgiving. She feels the warmth of the dreamweaver’s breath on her cheek, her goodbye. Her lashes flutter, wanting to reach out for her again. The stars brightening slightly above, acknowledging what the mare had done for one of their own. Their stories firmly aligned now, knowing in her heart that she needed to find her again.
Then suddenly the air is still as her electricity fades with her retreating figure. Her labored breath seems loud in her ears, suddenly aware of how close she is to him, how she can feel the rise and fall of his side against hers. Fighting between the fog, forcing the slow swirls to make him out. ”Beautiful…” She mutters to herself, as the moonlight catches him again.
Ciri
@[Amet] @[Jah-Lilah]