[AW] 'the first living creature was like a lion'

[Pavetta]

p a v e t t a - - - Somnus. It was the first thought that raced through her mind as the ground began to quake, to groan and twist like a wounded animal. The sounds of the earth being torn apart was haunting, chilling—trees snapped in half; the deafening sound of something like the crack of lightening rending the air in two. Her king and regime was there, trapped behind those ancient doors. They all were. The lifeblood of the courts, cut off from the rest of the body that was Novus. She had been in idle conversation to pass the time with strangers, but now she leaped away in panic as the earth began shifting and pulling beneath her, cloven hooves gliding over the earth with easy grace, adrenaline coursing through her veins, propelling her onward, towards those crumbling doors…if she could leap through, throw herself against the doors before the rubble...No, it was too late. Too late. Others were already there; keening, wailing, screaming. The black unicorn was at their lead, deadly and terrifying in her onslaught. The rage of her cries trembled deep in Pavetta’s bones, a cry of grief and of hatred. Raymond—the blade of his tale glinted in the light, a scythe of death sweeping behind him as he cried out for help, standing atop the rubble and wreckage, leading them in a rescue attempt. Acton—she saw him next, the flash of his bronze skin was unmistakable. He too clawed and dug at the collapsed doorway in quiet desperation, exuding a sort of calm Pavetta only wished she could pretend to feel. She wanted to drag them all away from the doors, lest they also fall prey to whatever game the gods were playing this night. Pavetta clattered up the rubble, slipping, sliding, scraping silver skin, red pearls of blood littering the stones in her passing. She shuddered to an uneven stop at Acton’s side, breathing labored and haggard. “Acton!” Her voice was stronger than she felt. “It was a trap…it had to have been.” Saying the words out loud, to another soul, made it feel more real, less of a bad dream. And yet, how was this reality any less of a nightmare? “I have no magic…” I can’t help anyone she wanted to say. Her telepathic skills were so frustratingly weak and pathetic it made no sense to use them—she used her body physically, tearing and scraping and blooding her hooves and knees. For the first time in Pavetta's life, she prayed, desperately, to whatever gods were present on that mountaintop holding their leaders captive. a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse, creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---