» choose your path

Oh, you feel her call. Of course you do. You don't know who she is, yet. Only that she takes you by surprise. A thread of warmth inching down through the winds of freeze and past the chinks in your spiked mental armor(oh, weaknesses, you've got plenty of those). You don't hate her, at first. You feel.... strange. Disoriented. Like half a memory laps at the shores of thought but never fully emerges. This, you do know: your wings open. The silver feathers light along them, shimmering and ethereal. You take to the sky. And this is what you know, the moment you see her: she is beautiful. She is your enemy. The anger comes back as if it never left you. It pounds in your skull, in your heart, until it feels like a beast which might at any moment come clawing right out of you in a red, red fountain. You land hard, too hard, your hooves clattering, but you don't notice. The moonfeathers have faded before you've even fully touched down, but your wings remain raised, flared like hackles, as you catch the end of her speech. She wants to bring back the Rift gods. She wants to save them. She wants to heal this place. You hate her. You still don't know who she is, but you know in this moment hate is the only thing you need. It slicks back your ears and burns in your eyes, the only sensation you manage to feel at all as you push your way toward her, ignoring whoever else might be present. “BENEVOLENT?” comes the roar of your voice, a peal of thunder shuddering up out of your chest, threatening to break you in half. You want to yell louder. You want to cleave her in two with sound. “They're murderers!” you bellow, your features contorted with rage. And now you're losing any thread of coherency you might have had. You're angry, angry, and you want to charge her but some fraying strand of sense holds you back for now. You see the lights dancing in her antlers — you see her — and you know what she is. “You WON'T,” you bellow instead, your sides heaving. A small rear, and your hooves drum an unsteady anthem on the ground. Your horn is down, braced for the center of her mass. Your haunches quiver, your whole body drawn like a bowstring, rage primed to fire and strike true. countdown to selfdestruct

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ooc// Just as a note, I don't mind at all if she decides to do something nasty to him for being an utter asshole, but you can ping me if you do feel that's something she'd do ;)