And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw.
Calliope's teeth snapped shut close enough for him to feel the hot rush of her breath stir his whiskers, and at last he too began to smolder. He had failed to deflect her rage, failed to absorb it, and now he arched and bristled like a silent dog cornered by the shadow of her retribution and pushed over the brink.
He sidestepped, drawing his blade high over the curve of his back as his ears flattened tightly to his poll. Etched into the aggressive lines of his face was the visage of the feral beast that had survived countless miles of wilderness alone, the primal savage that leapt like a locust and would not shy away from the sword.
"You should kill me? You'd have killed yourself for a memory, if not for me." The red stallion's voice was a rumble of righteous fury, tinged with an odd shade of something that rested far, far away from the realm of judgment. Gritting his teeth, he lashed his tail in a collected arc, blocking her advance as the blade came to rest dangerously near her throat - as it had but once before, at their beginning.
"I know you. I know your fire. And it would be a cold day in hell before I ever gave you the opportunity to climb into that dragon's mouth." Raymond was accustomed to burning things to the ground - often quietly and from the inside, as had been done to his first future - but he knew he could not contain the insidiousness of whatever consequences might arise from her pride.
He did know her - the untamed Fury that would face down time, space, and gods alike in pursuit of her convictions. She knew no limits, but he had seen the cracks in her armor before they had been mended in gold. "There is not enough blood in the world to avenge you."
He paused, grey eyes meeting blue with an electric and unblinking hold. Perhaps if he looked away the court would collapse around them. Perhaps if the whisker-thin margin of control over his tail blade wavered it would be her blood that paid for her pride, but his aim was truer than any arrow, his poise steadier than the most meticulous surgeon.
Raymond let the blade fall, his words sharp and soft and diamond-hard. "I sent you a letter because I love you, Calliope."
He sidestepped, drawing his blade high over the curve of his back as his ears flattened tightly to his poll. Etched into the aggressive lines of his face was the visage of the feral beast that had survived countless miles of wilderness alone, the primal savage that leapt like a locust and would not shy away from the sword.
"You should kill me? You'd have killed yourself for a memory, if not for me." The red stallion's voice was a rumble of righteous fury, tinged with an odd shade of something that rested far, far away from the realm of judgment. Gritting his teeth, he lashed his tail in a collected arc, blocking her advance as the blade came to rest dangerously near her throat - as it had but once before, at their beginning.
"I know you. I know your fire. And it would be a cold day in hell before I ever gave you the opportunity to climb into that dragon's mouth." Raymond was accustomed to burning things to the ground - often quietly and from the inside, as had been done to his first future - but he knew he could not contain the insidiousness of whatever consequences might arise from her pride.
He did know her - the untamed Fury that would face down time, space, and gods alike in pursuit of her convictions. She knew no limits, but he had seen the cracks in her armor before they had been mended in gold. "There is not enough blood in the world to avenge you."
He paused, grey eyes meeting blue with an electric and unblinking hold. Perhaps if he looked away the court would collapse around them. Perhaps if the whisker-thin margin of control over his tail blade wavered it would be her blood that paid for her pride, but his aim was truer than any arrow, his poise steadier than the most meticulous surgeon.
Raymond let the blade fall, his words sharp and soft and diamond-hard. "I sent you a letter because I love you, Calliope."
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
