cold in the violence after the war
hope is a fire to keep us warm
As seems to be the way of things, events do not unfold quite according to plan. Of course, foresight isn’t a talent of hers, so that is hardly surprising. There is an immediate sense of victory when he tumbles beneath the weight of her forceful impact. A victory quickly tempered when he wraps his draconic claws around her unforgiving form and pulls her into a headlong tumble along with him.
It can’t be a terribly nice tumble for him, at least. No doubt something like being stuck in a dryer with a bag of stones. Fortunately for her, stone doesn’t bruise, so even when they skid to a halt, his larger frame pinning hers, she is still in furiously fighting form. A fact no doubt made clear by the immediate angry thrashing of limbs and blunt teeth as she tries to dislodge him.
She doesn’t even notice the stone walls grinding together around them until he abruptly straightens before digging his talons around her uneven form and dragging her upwards. She doesn’t bother to consider consequences as she flails in his grasp, head swinging and teeth gnashing as she tries to land a blow somewhere. Anywhere. Unfortunately, in her current dangling position, it would require the kind of contortionism she is most certainly not capable of to succeed. Not that that stops her, of course. Nor the understanding that, if she did succeed, that ground would be a regrettably hard fall downwards.
But then, no one had ever accused her of possessing that kind of sense or caution.
As he lands, Brazen braces herself for impact. But rather than dropping hard as she’d expected, he sets her down with surprising gentleness. For a moment, she simply stands there, limbs splayed in a brace as she re-orients herself. Abruptly, she stretches her stone frame before shaking herself violently, the clatter of bone and stone momentarily drowning out their conversation.
She straightens just in time to hear a worried Lilliana asking Ghaul if he knows what rises from the ashes. Though she knows the question wasn’t meant for her, she cannot help herself when she snaps, “Yeah. Me.”
Surprisingly fitting in the moment, given her blackened, ash-covered state.
When Ghaul cheekily invites her to Pangea however, she scowls. Her answer comes in the form of an abrupt movement, one in which she slams herself sideways into the self-satisfied beast. She doesn’t fool herself into believing that, at this close range, it would do much. But damn-it-all, at the very least, it would fucking hurt.
Brazen