Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando Judex est venturus
***
Quando Judex est venturus
***
You sent me a letter to tell me that you left, she said.
Raymond's smile evaporated like rain in the desert, revealing its tenuous nature in its exit. The disarming grin was only valuable insofar as it could disarm, but Calliope carried no weapon to drop. She was the weapon - sharp as any blade, heavy as any hammer, and as relentless as the wicked flail. Her eyes bored into him like awls, and only impressive stubbornness kept him from quailing beneath the onslaught of her disappointment.
He knew what he was doing when he'd done it, and no one living or dead could have convinced him that he had been wrong.
The red stallion's heart ached to see her seethe and twitch like a tethered beast. When they had first met, such rage would have been followed without preamble by a swift and dirty fight to the death. Now Calliope hung between two sides of an ugly coin, a killing beast that could no longer kill, and a part of him wanted to throw himself upon her sword just to give that power back.
Raymond guarded himself slightly, ribs taut against his sides with a prey animal's instinctive indecision. "I sent you a letter because I knew you would come," he replied, his words as forceful and insistent as the threat of her killing horn. How poetic it would be to die now, by a spear wrapped with a token of his own favor.
He could have told her there was no time - but that was a lie. Denocte had suffered quite happily for months since their arrival, and any intelligent horse would have known that there should have been time to regroup and strategize. So why face the dark unknown of the Night Kingdom alone? Why betray the trust of the chosen few he had not left behind in pursuit of a conqueror's ambitions? Why send a message in writing, when all of the stories ever told could not contain the proper depth of what he'd wanted to say to Calliope?
"I needed you to come now, and not before. Because..."
The unicorn's blade remained poised at his breast like a guillotine waiting to fall. Against the weight of a feather for a jackal's appraisal, his heart was an ugly knot of iron - but would she cast her judgment? For once he seemed uncertain, almost pleading in the way his tail blade quivered its reluctance. He wasn't ready to fight her, but he wasn't ready to die, and for that suspended moment he could not bring himself to finish the defense he left half-spoken on his lips.
Raymond's smile evaporated like rain in the desert, revealing its tenuous nature in its exit. The disarming grin was only valuable insofar as it could disarm, but Calliope carried no weapon to drop. She was the weapon - sharp as any blade, heavy as any hammer, and as relentless as the wicked flail. Her eyes bored into him like awls, and only impressive stubbornness kept him from quailing beneath the onslaught of her disappointment.
He knew what he was doing when he'd done it, and no one living or dead could have convinced him that he had been wrong.
The red stallion's heart ached to see her seethe and twitch like a tethered beast. When they had first met, such rage would have been followed without preamble by a swift and dirty fight to the death. Now Calliope hung between two sides of an ugly coin, a killing beast that could no longer kill, and a part of him wanted to throw himself upon her sword just to give that power back.
Raymond guarded himself slightly, ribs taut against his sides with a prey animal's instinctive indecision. "I sent you a letter because I knew you would come," he replied, his words as forceful and insistent as the threat of her killing horn. How poetic it would be to die now, by a spear wrapped with a token of his own favor.
He could have told her there was no time - but that was a lie. Denocte had suffered quite happily for months since their arrival, and any intelligent horse would have known that there should have been time to regroup and strategize. So why face the dark unknown of the Night Kingdom alone? Why betray the trust of the chosen few he had not left behind in pursuit of a conqueror's ambitions? Why send a message in writing, when all of the stories ever told could not contain the proper depth of what he'd wanted to say to Calliope?
"I needed you to come now, and not before. Because..."
The unicorn's blade remained poised at his breast like a guillotine waiting to fall. Against the weight of a feather for a jackal's appraisal, his heart was an ugly knot of iron - but would she cast her judgment? For once he seemed uncertain, almost pleading in the way his tail blade quivered its reluctance. He wasn't ready to fight her, but he wasn't ready to die, and for that suspended moment he could not bring himself to finish the defense he left half-spoken on his lips.
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
@Calliope
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
