Blood Falls
04-22-2018, 09:39 AM
You don't know why you're not stopping her. You don't know anything about her—she's not your friend, but certainly not your enemy, and that practically makes her your friend, anyway. So why are you just standing there with the others, a hen in the henhouse, staring as she tempts death?
Only the sleek stranger starts towards her, but it's too late; the river swerves to get away from Kiada's burning stick, rising up in a wave and splashing the pale mare.
You didn't even cry out a warning.
What's wrong with you, Waker?
The mare backpedals away, covered in sticky red waters that look like a mixture of blood and mud; awfully close to what actual blood and mud looks like, at least. A shiver born from memory travels down your spine.
She seems unhurt, but you don't ask her if it's truly so; both of these shameful things weigh on your mind, so you turn your head away, looking somewhere else, but not seeing what it is. Your gaze cuts through it and into nothing, a cage built from these distressing thoughts and uncharacteristic moments.
Then a creature rises from the rivers, its disembodied teeth fitting back into its mouth; a bear, or something that once was a bear. Crystals jut like mountaintops from its spine. Its voice brooks no argument. Its breath infuses you with the strength of the mountains, but no clarity. Disturbed, you watch the others. It is the sleek black stranger who takes initiative again. It doesn't surprise you. He seems crafty.
Unlike you.
Roscorro seizes onto the plan, with Rixen's clear voice cementing it over the roar of the river; your long-ish tail flick once as you glance over to the other bank. What use it creating a dam and fortifying the shore if it will just spill over on the other side? Your ears flit, backwards, forward, backwards, and like that, you've made your choice. You tip back on your haunches, momentarily frozen like a statue, before launching yourself into the sky; your powerful wings beat, once, twice, thrice, and then you're climbing higher, passing well above the red roar.
You touch down on the other shore, and busy yourself with tasks similar to the ones performed on the other shore—pushing boulders with your neck.
Only the sleek stranger starts towards her, but it's too late; the river swerves to get away from Kiada's burning stick, rising up in a wave and splashing the pale mare.
You didn't even cry out a warning.
What's wrong with you, Waker?
The mare backpedals away, covered in sticky red waters that look like a mixture of blood and mud; awfully close to what actual blood and mud looks like, at least. A shiver born from memory travels down your spine.
She seems unhurt, but you don't ask her if it's truly so; both of these shameful things weigh on your mind, so you turn your head away, looking somewhere else, but not seeing what it is. Your gaze cuts through it and into nothing, a cage built from these distressing thoughts and uncharacteristic moments.
Then a creature rises from the rivers, its disembodied teeth fitting back into its mouth; a bear, or something that once was a bear. Crystals jut like mountaintops from its spine. Its voice brooks no argument. Its breath infuses you with the strength of the mountains, but no clarity. Disturbed, you watch the others. It is the sleek black stranger who takes initiative again. It doesn't surprise you. He seems crafty.
Unlike you.
Roscorro seizes onto the plan, with Rixen's clear voice cementing it over the roar of the river; your long-ish tail flick once as you glance over to the other bank. What use it creating a dam and fortifying the shore if it will just spill over on the other side? Your ears flit, backwards, forward, backwards, and like that, you've made your choice. You tip back on your haunches, momentarily frozen like a statue, before launching yourself into the sky; your powerful wings beat, once, twice, thrice, and then you're climbing higher, passing well above the red roar.
You touch down on the other shore, and busy yourself with tasks similar to the ones performed on the other shore—pushing boulders with your neck.
Waker goes to the other side of the river.
