07-07-2021, 06:49 PM
Tirza has never tasted captivity before but she recognizes it even before she is fully awake. More than just the alien sensation of straps and metal against her skin is the uncomfortable feeling of not being fully in control of her body or her destiny. An angry hiss escapes her as soon as she is awake enough to fully comprehend what is happening and sees the strange creatures that are responsible for it.
Her first action is to try to bite the one who pats her but though the bite lands, he barely seems to feel it. In retribution, he yanks harshly on her bridle and tells her “None of that now, boy.” Boy she snorts, her red eyes rolling in her annoyance but a sharp smack against her shoulder stops the second bite that she had been thinking of landing on whatever new piece of his soft-looking flesh that she could reach.
The indignity of the whole thing distracts her from the conversation between the brothers until Pollux hoists himself into the saddle on her back and she starts - roaring her displeasure at this new development and rearing before being brought back into line by a hard and rough handling.
“Sure you can handle that one, brother?” Castor teases while finding his own mount, a stallion darker than the night with amber-bright eyes who stands with more patience than Tirza has ever possessed in her entire life. She has nothing but a glancing look for this cowed creature, this pet, and pointedly avoids looking at all the other horses as she shifts unsteadily. Pollux curses the gods for the steed he has been given by them and then he curses her a few more times for good measure. Tirza hears every word and the bright colours of her coat seem to burn a little brighter in response. It is not her doing, and perhaps it is some of these gods he is now bitter with. Whatever it is, it helps her settle into a feigned acceptance. Her heart begins to race with anticipation and as they make their way to the sea.
Enraged by the sight of the ocean, that of all places that she has to be while trapped like this it has to be the one that smells like her first home, Tirza tries to push out every scrap of her life-stealing power into the creature on her back. Not a single second returns to her, this skill she's honed since she was a young filly is not one she can reach now, and her coat burns brighter still.
There is no choice but to obey, to suffer this moment and wait for her chance to turn it into her favour.
She is at the front of the line of soldiers that passes over the sand-and-grass plain and this suits the phoenix-coloured mare's ego enough that she trots prettily and forgets the smell of the sea that reminds her of where she was born. Pollux relaxes at her compliance and she can feel his eagerness for bloodshed in every twitch of his body. It is all strange to her, these funny oval-faced creatures all riding steeds of magnificent colours and shapes. Some aren't even horses, some are only part. They all stamp the ground and posture before something Tirza misses triggers the battle and then they are all charging towards each other.
There is a thrill in this, in racing towards danger. Pollux immediately takes an arrow to the arm and Tirza's delight is dashed by the way he snaps it and tosses it aside as though it were nothing. Remembering how her bite had not injured him either, she glowers but can do nothing but let him lead her where he wishes. They charge into the enemy's lines, though she cannot discern one army from the next once they begin to mix. She merely turns when she is bid, striking out at anyone who dares to get close. Not to protect her rider, though he comes to believe this, but to protect herself as best as she can.
The wounds she earns are minor, red bleeding into the vivid colours of her coat and fueling her rage. She begins to choose where they head next, always dragging Pollux into the thickest of clusters - always hoping that perhaps this will be the time he bleeds and she can go back to making her own choices. He curses her again but each time someone raises their sword against him he grins fiercely - lost in the lust of battle.
Tirza is beginning to enjoy herself, each small rebellion where she shifts her weight to present Pollux with a newer, larger enemy. Each time she dances out of the way of the claws of a griffin or a golden lion she feels a flush of triumph.
An instinct that does not belong to her, a voice whispered inside of her mind, tells her to turn at the right moment. She slides to a stop and Pollux breathes heavily on her back - exhilarated as his eyes scan the crowd. They find Castor, and the two brothers raise their swords to each other in salute. One blink and they are smiling, and the next Pollux has a perfectly unobstructed view of when a giant eagle descends and rips Castor's still-grinning head off of his shoulders. The night-dark stallion bellows in terror, racing off with the remainder of the body still in the saddle.
Stunned into silence, Pollux can only watch as the eagle flies and releases his brother's head so that he must either shield himself from it or drop his sword to catch it.
Instinct has steel land on blood-soaked sand, instinct has Pollux catch Castor's grinning face. These gods do not take kindly to their gifts being scorned. Tirza laughs and she is sure that she hears the eagle laugh as well as it disappears just before Pollux begins to scream.
Her first action is to try to bite the one who pats her but though the bite lands, he barely seems to feel it. In retribution, he yanks harshly on her bridle and tells her “None of that now, boy.” Boy she snorts, her red eyes rolling in her annoyance but a sharp smack against her shoulder stops the second bite that she had been thinking of landing on whatever new piece of his soft-looking flesh that she could reach.
The indignity of the whole thing distracts her from the conversation between the brothers until Pollux hoists himself into the saddle on her back and she starts - roaring her displeasure at this new development and rearing before being brought back into line by a hard and rough handling.
“Sure you can handle that one, brother?” Castor teases while finding his own mount, a stallion darker than the night with amber-bright eyes who stands with more patience than Tirza has ever possessed in her entire life. She has nothing but a glancing look for this cowed creature, this pet, and pointedly avoids looking at all the other horses as she shifts unsteadily. Pollux curses the gods for the steed he has been given by them and then he curses her a few more times for good measure. Tirza hears every word and the bright colours of her coat seem to burn a little brighter in response. It is not her doing, and perhaps it is some of these gods he is now bitter with. Whatever it is, it helps her settle into a feigned acceptance. Her heart begins to race with anticipation and as they make their way to the sea.
Enraged by the sight of the ocean, that of all places that she has to be while trapped like this it has to be the one that smells like her first home, Tirza tries to push out every scrap of her life-stealing power into the creature on her back. Not a single second returns to her, this skill she's honed since she was a young filly is not one she can reach now, and her coat burns brighter still.
There is no choice but to obey, to suffer this moment and wait for her chance to turn it into her favour.
She is at the front of the line of soldiers that passes over the sand-and-grass plain and this suits the phoenix-coloured mare's ego enough that she trots prettily and forgets the smell of the sea that reminds her of where she was born. Pollux relaxes at her compliance and she can feel his eagerness for bloodshed in every twitch of his body. It is all strange to her, these funny oval-faced creatures all riding steeds of magnificent colours and shapes. Some aren't even horses, some are only part. They all stamp the ground and posture before something Tirza misses triggers the battle and then they are all charging towards each other.
There is a thrill in this, in racing towards danger. Pollux immediately takes an arrow to the arm and Tirza's delight is dashed by the way he snaps it and tosses it aside as though it were nothing. Remembering how her bite had not injured him either, she glowers but can do nothing but let him lead her where he wishes. They charge into the enemy's lines, though she cannot discern one army from the next once they begin to mix. She merely turns when she is bid, striking out at anyone who dares to get close. Not to protect her rider, though he comes to believe this, but to protect herself as best as she can.
The wounds she earns are minor, red bleeding into the vivid colours of her coat and fueling her rage. She begins to choose where they head next, always dragging Pollux into the thickest of clusters - always hoping that perhaps this will be the time he bleeds and she can go back to making her own choices. He curses her again but each time someone raises their sword against him he grins fiercely - lost in the lust of battle.
Tirza is beginning to enjoy herself, each small rebellion where she shifts her weight to present Pollux with a newer, larger enemy. Each time she dances out of the way of the claws of a griffin or a golden lion she feels a flush of triumph.
An instinct that does not belong to her, a voice whispered inside of her mind, tells her to turn at the right moment. She slides to a stop and Pollux breathes heavily on her back - exhilarated as his eyes scan the crowd. They find Castor, and the two brothers raise their swords to each other in salute. One blink and they are smiling, and the next Pollux has a perfectly unobstructed view of when a giant eagle descends and rips Castor's still-grinning head off of his shoulders. The night-dark stallion bellows in terror, racing off with the remainder of the body still in the saddle.
Stunned into silence, Pollux can only watch as the eagle flies and releases his brother's head so that he must either shield himself from it or drop his sword to catch it.
Instinct has steel land on blood-soaked sand, instinct has Pollux catch Castor's grinning face. These gods do not take kindly to their gifts being scorned. Tirza laughs and she is sure that she hears the eagle laugh as well as it disappears just before Pollux begins to scream.
