05-16-2021, 05:50 PM
It isn't the first time that she has gone to the Mountain and come away less, although when she had followed Grandfather's call, she had come away more, too, and that made up for the temporary weakness of the new bones he grew inside her. This time she came away with nothing, and it occurs to her that the fairies are rather less generous than Grandfather. Yes, it's true she had not gone to help, that her aim had been to impede their progress, but she does not think that Beqanna knew because it left them all a similar shade, stretched too thin, the earnest as well as the insincere.
And then, the glorious morning dawned and she had hissed and hated the way the golden light filtered through her flesh, and she had felt emptier than ever without the creatures of the night to track and hunt and fill her belly with their petroleum skins. Color exploded across the night-dulled Pampas in a breath and Manny had despised it. Her claws ached to rend the happy grasses, her beak to decapitate every flower bud and seedhead and rabbit she could snap up in her grip, but each eluded her ghostly grasp. She learned to dislike the fairies more with each passing day.
But at last - oh, at last! - the year has ended, and she celebrates by starting a vicious fight with a Pampaian elkear - a fight that leaves an acreage of the grassland scorched, the beast short an antler, and her tail almost entirely gone. Manny is desperately outmatched physically, bloodied and bruised and winded. A year of haunting has done her no favors. The hulking fire-red beast charges and she clumsily evades it, stumbling from its charge at the last moment, slow enough that the sharp tines of its single antler leave another tear in her skin and the physicality of it makes her shudder, ecstatic. But she is tired, and she does not wish to die again today, so soon after the last time, so when it turns to charge again she plucks the strings of its memory and the elkear forgets instantly what it was about to do. And she casts the wide gillnet of her peace and subdues it in a miasma of calm. When she approaches, the enormous creature sits and turns to peer at her with confused grumbling, unsure why it is bleeding and tired. Manny purrs softly and plucks those strings again.
You saved me, don't you remember? She doesn't speak their language but she feeds it lies in images. A heinous beast that shouldn't be, one of the merged horse-demons of Nerine lies dead just behind her, a sharp-tined antler broken off in its shattered breast. The elkear cranes to look around her at the Thing it has killed and the little liar strikes, sharp beak ripping into the soft place in its throat. The beast strikes her heavily, knocking her hard enough that her vision swims, but it is already dead. It just doesn't know yet.
Suffocation gets it first, the windpipe torn wide so it dies gasping endlessly. Its blood stains her pristine paws and the broad blaze as she gorges herself on strange meat still warm and alive, and when she can eat no more, she finds her way out of the burnt Pampas crossing unceremoniously into Sylva, still bloody and concussed and over-full.
Today is a good day.
And then, the glorious morning dawned and she had hissed and hated the way the golden light filtered through her flesh, and she had felt emptier than ever without the creatures of the night to track and hunt and fill her belly with their petroleum skins. Color exploded across the night-dulled Pampas in a breath and Manny had despised it. Her claws ached to rend the happy grasses, her beak to decapitate every flower bud and seedhead and rabbit she could snap up in her grip, but each eluded her ghostly grasp. She learned to dislike the fairies more with each passing day.
But at last - oh, at last! - the year has ended, and she celebrates by starting a vicious fight with a Pampaian elkear - a fight that leaves an acreage of the grassland scorched, the beast short an antler, and her tail almost entirely gone. Manny is desperately outmatched physically, bloodied and bruised and winded. A year of haunting has done her no favors. The hulking fire-red beast charges and she clumsily evades it, stumbling from its charge at the last moment, slow enough that the sharp tines of its single antler leave another tear in her skin and the physicality of it makes her shudder, ecstatic. But she is tired, and she does not wish to die again today, so soon after the last time, so when it turns to charge again she plucks the strings of its memory and the elkear forgets instantly what it was about to do. And she casts the wide gillnet of her peace and subdues it in a miasma of calm. When she approaches, the enormous creature sits and turns to peer at her with confused grumbling, unsure why it is bleeding and tired. Manny purrs softly and plucks those strings again.
You saved me, don't you remember? She doesn't speak their language but she feeds it lies in images. A heinous beast that shouldn't be, one of the merged horse-demons of Nerine lies dead just behind her, a sharp-tined antler broken off in its shattered breast. The elkear cranes to look around her at the Thing it has killed and the little liar strikes, sharp beak ripping into the soft place in its throat. The beast strikes her heavily, knocking her hard enough that her vision swims, but it is already dead. It just doesn't know yet.
Suffocation gets it first, the windpipe torn wide so it dies gasping endlessly. Its blood stains her pristine paws and the broad blaze as she gorges herself on strange meat still warm and alive, and when she can eat no more, she finds her way out of the burnt Pampas crossing unceremoniously into Sylva, still bloody and concussed and over-full.
Today is a good day.
Hello, Sylva, guess who lives here now
I'm not sure if this is violent enough to require the mature tag, but I'm giving it one anyway.