I'll be a stone, I'll be the hunter,
The tower that casts a shade
***
The tower that casts a shade
***
In the shock of Ruth's appearance, Raymond had forgotten entirely about the unpleasant tidings that had preceded her. Like her impossible size, the mere fact of her survival through the heart of the rift stretched comprehension to and past his breaking point. He had seen her fall - delicate, naked, defenseless against the Rift's onslaught - and he had seen her enchanted collar shattered and tarnished by time on a world kept only by the dead. But the mind that touched his yet bore a spark of the old kittenish sunshine, and each great eye gleamed with the same feline intensity that he remembered.
This was Ruth - but what price had she paid to return to him? What price had he yet to pay in earning her back?
...Rey, Run! The words leak into his consciousness as though from a great distance, so insignificant beside the Tarrasque's weight in his mind. It was only a flash of wings that caught his attention as it sent an instinctive shudder of excitement buzzing through the newly-forged mental link.
The beast did not recall her savior quite so quickly as she did her sire.
Ruth extended the very taloned hand that had a moment ago brushed Raymond's shoulder with utmost care, and it did not take telepathy to figure out that she meant to swat Florentine out of the sky like the fluttering nuisance she must have seemed. It all seemed so impossibly slow - if only because the rust-colored titan was so impossibly large - and for the razor's edge of an instant the red stallion found himself at a loss. How do you plead with the apocalypse?
"Ruth!" he bellowed both inwardly and outwardly, throwing all of his hopes behind the merciful memory that had spared his own life and shoving through the link every moment he could manage. "You know her! A dying kitten, brought back from the brink by a golden girl with flowers in her hair; a proud young sphynx entangled in the same golden girl's flowing tail.
The claws faltered, pausing a few scant yards shy of tragedy. The grating rumble of Ruth's puzzlement rolled over in her throat like a mouthful of boulders as she drew in an experimental breath of Florentine's floral scent. Her jaws clicked shut with a sound like a tree snapping in two and tore a furrow in the earth where her tail twitched irritatedly behind her, but Raymond sensed a confused sort of restraint.
I can catch it, the Tarrasque huffed, and Raymond had no reason to doubt it.
"Flora," he called, breathless, "you have to land." That much he delivered with every bit as much steel as he had borne her in the forgotten realm, though his tone seemed to entreat rather than command. It was a voice of worry for what could happen rather than the pain of what had already come to pass. "It's Ruth."
This was Ruth - but what price had she paid to return to him? What price had he yet to pay in earning her back?
...Rey, Run! The words leak into his consciousness as though from a great distance, so insignificant beside the Tarrasque's weight in his mind. It was only a flash of wings that caught his attention as it sent an instinctive shudder of excitement buzzing through the newly-forged mental link.
The beast did not recall her savior quite so quickly as she did her sire.
Ruth extended the very taloned hand that had a moment ago brushed Raymond's shoulder with utmost care, and it did not take telepathy to figure out that she meant to swat Florentine out of the sky like the fluttering nuisance she must have seemed. It all seemed so impossibly slow - if only because the rust-colored titan was so impossibly large - and for the razor's edge of an instant the red stallion found himself at a loss. How do you plead with the apocalypse?
"Ruth!" he bellowed both inwardly and outwardly, throwing all of his hopes behind the merciful memory that had spared his own life and shoving through the link every moment he could manage. "You know her! A dying kitten, brought back from the brink by a golden girl with flowers in her hair; a proud young sphynx entangled in the same golden girl's flowing tail.
The claws faltered, pausing a few scant yards shy of tragedy. The grating rumble of Ruth's puzzlement rolled over in her throat like a mouthful of boulders as she drew in an experimental breath of Florentine's floral scent. Her jaws clicked shut with a sound like a tree snapping in two and tore a furrow in the earth where her tail twitched irritatedly behind her, but Raymond sensed a confused sort of restraint.
I can catch it, the Tarrasque huffed, and Raymond had no reason to doubt it.
"Flora," he called, breathless, "you have to land." That much he delivered with every bit as much steel as he had borne her in the forgotten realm, though his tone seemed to entreat rather than command. It was a voice of worry for what could happen rather than the pain of what had already come to pass. "It's Ruth."
***
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.
@
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