THUM
The very air seems to have stopped, the world coming to a slow, but gradual stand still as multiple sets of eyes find a place to the West (is it West or North?) to focus on.
THUM
The noise gets louder, louder
louder- “
W-what-”
The stallion, Thranduil, was already becoming perturbed. His body tensing with every barbed response I gave, clearly not what he was ‘looking’ for in meeting a new face. Or so this is what one would assume by the way his expression slipped into a distasteful scowl. Now that dismay was compounded as a sound like rushing wind takes up through the climbing rocks, kicking sand and whistling almost painfully against the shell of my ear. (
Don’t stay still, don’t just stand there!) The voice in my head cries, ringing with alarm. (
Move Bathsheba, move!)
THUM- p
This- this sounds just like earlier, that feeling of being watched is back, except this time I know it is not Thranduil or his kin.
“That dearie, is something that might find your soul tasty.” He says suddenly and my eyes dart briefly to his. It does not matter that he probably intended it as an insult, all it succeeded in doing was feeding the fear already filtering through my system. Again.
THUMP
With ears pinned back my gaze is drawn to that spot once more, eyes narrowing as I struggle to get a glimpse of something,
anything.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
A sharp inhale as something black flickers into visible sight. In a mere manner of moments that small something becomes what could be described as a forelimb. Long, skinny, and… scaled? I snort and jerk my head back. Suddenly Thranduil there is something warm against my legs. Thranduil has inadvertently forced the bulk of his son, Galahad, into the safety of my presence. Gawping in genuine surprise, the man - a desperate plea in his eyes, it is painful to see - asks me to
“Take him… please“ and I find that I can do nothing other than nod. All at once I have become the caretaker of a stubborn little boy who turns around to follow after his Father, disobedient thing! I remember being his age, remember learning to follow instruction or suffering the wrath of a woman more terrible than Thranduil could ever hope to be. At least this is my opinion.
As soon as Galahad steps away from my legs I catch sight of a body attached to that arm, snaking its way out from behind a huge cluster of rock. With hind legs groaning I lunge forward, immediately putting myself between Galahad and his Father - ergo: Galahad and danger. He might not see it that way, but being brave and being dead were two very different things. My ears have weaved themselves into my mane, my eyes are wide with fright as I whip around to face the child then, attempting (and failing) to look composed. “
Stay still child, you might not like it but you will not be doing your Father any favors if you end up dead.” As a last minute thought, not knowing anything about how or what she might have done, I add “
What would your mother say?”
"Talk."
Galahad (ooc - I swear)
Riptide Isles
