all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
The only time she had cried was when he had killed her. There had been no time to scream during the assault, so quickly he had broken her down, and the agony of her pain and the blood gurgling in the back of her throat had taken away any ability to make noise except for those final words she spat at him. The moment his hooves had connected with her skull and it dropped lifelessly to the ground, a few tears had found their way out from her unseeing still eyes. Her cheeks had long since dried and she had yet to cry at her predicament, yet to cry over the grief of what Gale had once been and what had been lost, she had yet to cry over her death.
Some tears had come unbidden during her retching, forming in the corner of her swirling silver eyes with the force of her projection. But other then that she was silent. There was nothing to say and no screaming or wailing would change what had happened. It wouldn’t fix her legs or bring Gale back. All she can focus on is the steady climbing of her rage that swirls within her, an anger she’s never felt before. She holds on to that so tightly because she knows if she lets go, if she allows herself to feel anything else, then she is lost.
It doesn’t take long to bring out a scavenger.
She watches the lazy way the strange mare circles over her. A vulture, she thinks hazily as her eyes follow the patterns of Manikin in the sky. And then it comes to lay by her with a glitter in her eye and she knows that look. It was the same one she had seen in the electric blue eyes of her death. At the comment of needing help she can’t help but bark a low malicious laugh of her own, one that makes her wince and regret moving at all. “No shit.” She manages, eyeing the other mare warily. There’s a strange calmness falling over her and she finds she doesn’t like it but can’t resist it. There is nothing to be calm about and she holds on to that pit of rage within her, focusing once more on the inferno of her anger.
She barely makes out the words the other says, something about healing, as she starts to think about things she hadn’t been planning on thinking of. Memories of Amet and her son and the Underneath. They seem to change slightly, as if something is trying to move the pieces around on how things had played out. She thinks of Gale and how he had smiled at her as she struggled before him. But now she is the one smiling down at herself. “How did you do this to yourself?” Asks the stranger and for a moment she is confused. She hadn’t done this to herself. It had been someone else. But she see’s her face instead of Gale’s and for a moment it seems she might forget the truth.
Then she catches the scales out of the corner of her eye and stupidly she wonders if Castile has finally come back and has once again found her in a state of needing assistance like he had done the night she had gotten that nasty slash across her face. As an ice aura starts to surround her and blocks the magic from the hippogriff the shifting in her head stops and it is still Gale eating her magic. As well as the realization that she was being manipulated and her anger intensifies ten fold.
It is not that she is not happy to see Leilan, she’s never been more relieved to see a familiar face, but they way he quips to this Popinjay who is apparently not Popinjay (and if she could seethe with actual fire her whole body would be lit in flames at this point, that someone else was trying to trick her as Not Gale had done) and then the insufferable nonchalantness of yet another stranger that offers to heal her at a price becomes too much. It is all too much.
She had never been able to wield her stars in the daylight and today should be no exception. Except her emotions are so much that somehow she seems to draw them from wherever they hide behind the sun and they glow brighter than any shield she’s ever created. She surrounds herself with starlight and draws deeper and deeper into her anger until the shield shatters around them in an explosion of stardust. She knows deep down that it will be days before she will be able to access that power again, that she has expelled too much this time, but she doesn’t care. She’s not even sure she wants to access it anymore, it feels off now. Tainted by the Curse’s touch. And it's worth it if it makes the terrible leg puns stop.
She is sick of them treating her like a piece of meat and with each second ticking by is less time to warn Nashua of what Gale had become. With each second she is being drawn further in by pain and exhaustion which makes her fury sputter. Her skull still lays in the dirt and stickiness of dried blood, her eyes continue to stare straight ahead of her as she says through gritted teeth, “I’d like to go home now.”
Some tears had come unbidden during her retching, forming in the corner of her swirling silver eyes with the force of her projection. But other then that she was silent. There was nothing to say and no screaming or wailing would change what had happened. It wouldn’t fix her legs or bring Gale back. All she can focus on is the steady climbing of her rage that swirls within her, an anger she’s never felt before. She holds on to that so tightly because she knows if she lets go, if she allows herself to feel anything else, then she is lost.
It doesn’t take long to bring out a scavenger.
She watches the lazy way the strange mare circles over her. A vulture, she thinks hazily as her eyes follow the patterns of Manikin in the sky. And then it comes to lay by her with a glitter in her eye and she knows that look. It was the same one she had seen in the electric blue eyes of her death. At the comment of needing help she can’t help but bark a low malicious laugh of her own, one that makes her wince and regret moving at all. “No shit.” She manages, eyeing the other mare warily. There’s a strange calmness falling over her and she finds she doesn’t like it but can’t resist it. There is nothing to be calm about and she holds on to that pit of rage within her, focusing once more on the inferno of her anger.
She barely makes out the words the other says, something about healing, as she starts to think about things she hadn’t been planning on thinking of. Memories of Amet and her son and the Underneath. They seem to change slightly, as if something is trying to move the pieces around on how things had played out. She thinks of Gale and how he had smiled at her as she struggled before him. But now she is the one smiling down at herself. “How did you do this to yourself?” Asks the stranger and for a moment she is confused. She hadn’t done this to herself. It had been someone else. But she see’s her face instead of Gale’s and for a moment it seems she might forget the truth.
Then she catches the scales out of the corner of her eye and stupidly she wonders if Castile has finally come back and has once again found her in a state of needing assistance like he had done the night she had gotten that nasty slash across her face. As an ice aura starts to surround her and blocks the magic from the hippogriff the shifting in her head stops and it is still Gale eating her magic. As well as the realization that she was being manipulated and her anger intensifies ten fold.
It is not that she is not happy to see Leilan, she’s never been more relieved to see a familiar face, but they way he quips to this Popinjay who is apparently not Popinjay (and if she could seethe with actual fire her whole body would be lit in flames at this point, that someone else was trying to trick her as Not Gale had done) and then the insufferable nonchalantness of yet another stranger that offers to heal her at a price becomes too much. It is all too much.
She had never been able to wield her stars in the daylight and today should be no exception. Except her emotions are so much that somehow she seems to draw them from wherever they hide behind the sun and they glow brighter than any shield she’s ever created. She surrounds herself with starlight and draws deeper and deeper into her anger until the shield shatters around them in an explosion of stardust. She knows deep down that it will be days before she will be able to access that power again, that she has expelled too much this time, but she doesn’t care. She’s not even sure she wants to access it anymore, it feels off now. Tainted by the Curse’s touch. And it's worth it if it makes the terrible leg puns stop.
She is sick of them treating her like a piece of meat and with each second ticking by is less time to warn Nashua of what Gale had become. With each second she is being drawn further in by pain and exhaustion which makes her fury sputter. Her skull still lays in the dirt and stickiness of dried blood, her eyes continue to stare straight ahead of her as she says through gritted teeth, “I’d like to go home now.”
-- Ciri
@Manikin
@Leilan