09-05-2020, 01:09 PM
l e p i s
gave me the blues and then purple pink skies
The silence that rises between them feels heavy, weighted by the manifold years since she last seen at the fanged creature in front of her. There are subtle differences between that fierce young king and this killer in his prime, and Lepis finds that the lines of maturity and age have only made him more handsome. Is that the Curse, she wonders, or the part of her heart that still remembers what it felt like to have him look at her with love in those olive-green eyes?
It doesn’t matter.
There is a click of hoof on stone, and the window for action grows narrower. Lepis doesn’t dare take her eyes from Wolfbane, but a gust of hot wind brings the smell of Nerine and Neverwhere, who comes to stand beside Lepis. The dun mare does not seem to acknowledge the other, but at her arrival Lepis glances over her own shoulder, toward the roaring that grows ever closer
The window grows narrower still.
A body appears in the sand at Neverwhere’s feet. Wolfbane’s body, but summoned and seemingly controlled by the bald-faced mare. That’s been a well-kept secret, Lepis thinks. Her sources still claim the Nerenian leader is scornful of Beqanna’s magics. But the dapple mare seems to know what she is doing, and whatever it is incenses the real Wolfbane, who pulls himself to his feet faster than she had expected. Wolfbane seems taken aback by the smoke the rises behind the two mares, or perhaps it is at the arrival of the eyeless dragon.
The roar of fire behind her announces that the window is nearly shut.
Everything happens so quickly.
A pale dragon falls from the sky toward Santana, a white mare with a navy mane and too many sharp teeth barrels down a canyon toward them, the grey stallion that had stood as unobtrusively as a shadow beside her moves instead to separate her from the chaos. “Don’t kill him!” She shouts over the roar of the flames and the feathered wing in front of her. “Don’t, kill him, I have to. It’s a curse, it has to be me, it has to be me to do it.”
She’d not wanted an audience.
They’d have been able to do it alone, she thinks, to put down the patriarch of the family as private family matter. What she wants no longer matters, she thinks as she coughs through the acrid smoke. Her eyes sting, but the flames are still some distance away.
“Let me…” She feints left than goes right, hoping that their recent acquaintance might not yet have Tarian realizing she is not the type to run into danger. Wolfbane is lunging for Ghaul, and Lepis’s dark hooves beat down on his left leg, unbalancing him and forcing him back down to the earth. Something slams into the side of her head. She’d forgotten to take the wings into account, having never been an outstanding warrior, and as Wolfbane falls his left wing fell with him. A little dazed, she stumbles to the side and begins to fall.
@[party]
It doesn’t matter.
There is a click of hoof on stone, and the window for action grows narrower. Lepis doesn’t dare take her eyes from Wolfbane, but a gust of hot wind brings the smell of Nerine and Neverwhere, who comes to stand beside Lepis. The dun mare does not seem to acknowledge the other, but at her arrival Lepis glances over her own shoulder, toward the roaring that grows ever closer
The window grows narrower still.
A body appears in the sand at Neverwhere’s feet. Wolfbane’s body, but summoned and seemingly controlled by the bald-faced mare. That’s been a well-kept secret, Lepis thinks. Her sources still claim the Nerenian leader is scornful of Beqanna’s magics. But the dapple mare seems to know what she is doing, and whatever it is incenses the real Wolfbane, who pulls himself to his feet faster than she had expected. Wolfbane seems taken aback by the smoke the rises behind the two mares, or perhaps it is at the arrival of the eyeless dragon.
The roar of fire behind her announces that the window is nearly shut.
Everything happens so quickly.
A pale dragon falls from the sky toward Santana, a white mare with a navy mane and too many sharp teeth barrels down a canyon toward them, the grey stallion that had stood as unobtrusively as a shadow beside her moves instead to separate her from the chaos. “Don’t kill him!” She shouts over the roar of the flames and the feathered wing in front of her. “Don’t, kill him, I have to. It’s a curse, it has to be me, it has to be me to do it.”
She’d not wanted an audience.
They’d have been able to do it alone, she thinks, to put down the patriarch of the family as private family matter. What she wants no longer matters, she thinks as she coughs through the acrid smoke. Her eyes sting, but the flames are still some distance away.
“Let me…” She feints left than goes right, hoping that their recent acquaintance might not yet have Tarian realizing she is not the type to run into danger. Wolfbane is lunging for Ghaul, and Lepis’s dark hooves beat down on his left leg, unbalancing him and forcing him back down to the earth. Something slams into the side of her head. She’d forgotten to take the wings into account, having never been an outstanding warrior, and as Wolfbane falls his left wing fell with him. A little dazed, she stumbles to the side and begins to fall.