11-24-2015, 03:46 PM
I am iron and I forge myself
Lagertha quickly identifies the voice as Sarkis - in her haste to leap to attention, she neglected the immediate identifying information. Silly mother. Stupid Queen. At Vidar’s query, she immediately relaxes, and nods, letting him go to investigate. Curiosity is healthy and should be encouraged, and the only thing that could harm her in her own home is a hungry cat who hadn’t learned to avoid the horses yet. Rhy usually takes care of keeping the new adults away with lightning bolts and her larger feline stature. But some of them can hardly resist the smell of afterbirth.
Luckily, the tell-tale acrid cat-piss smell of jaguars (now that she thinks about it, their spirit didn’t have that smell at all…) is nowhere to be found. Just a sister, and one that she has actually forgotten is her son’s cousin. “Sarkis?” she calls out, sheathing her sharp tone this time. “Just a second.” The iron gray mare turns and moves towards the back of their little den, peering into the mess of thorns. “You should watch where you’re going. That looks incredibly uncomfortable,” she muses in a half-teasting manner. But there is an easy solution to this, and it includes an opportunity to impress the two youngsters (she’ll probably always think of Sarkis as young).
“Stand back, Vidar,” she instructs the boy, as she coats herself in a thin layer of protective bark. It broke in the right joint-places to allow her to move freely, was lightweight, and provided just enough protection against the barbs. Starting from the outside, she slowly steps into the bushes, trampling them down where she can, and sprouting small branches from her sides, to hook the thorns and pull them back. She couldn’t grow a tree off her body, but armor was a loose definition, and as long as it wasn’t too big, she found it would do her bidding. After a while, there is a relatively clear path for the roan mare to escape, bringing her into the clearing with them.
Luckily, the tell-tale acrid cat-piss smell of jaguars (now that she thinks about it, their spirit didn’t have that smell at all…) is nowhere to be found. Just a sister, and one that she has actually forgotten is her son’s cousin. “Sarkis?” she calls out, sheathing her sharp tone this time. “Just a second.” The iron gray mare turns and moves towards the back of their little den, peering into the mess of thorns. “You should watch where you’re going. That looks incredibly uncomfortable,” she muses in a half-teasting manner. But there is an easy solution to this, and it includes an opportunity to impress the two youngsters (she’ll probably always think of Sarkis as young).
“Stand back, Vidar,” she instructs the boy, as she coats herself in a thin layer of protective bark. It broke in the right joint-places to allow her to move freely, was lightweight, and provided just enough protection against the barbs. Starting from the outside, she slowly steps into the bushes, trampling them down where she can, and sprouting small branches from her sides, to hook the thorns and pull them back. She couldn’t grow a tree off her body, but armor was a loose definition, and as long as it wasn’t too big, she found it would do her bidding. After a while, there is a relatively clear path for the roan mare to escape, bringing her into the clearing with them.
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons
[sorry this took forever and a day D: ]