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.
The miles passed swiftly suspended thirty feet off the ground beneath the shadow of Ruth's ponderous body, but never swiftly enough as the minutes stretched into hours with only Florentine's limp form as company. Her breaths were shallow but regular, the rustling of her feathers against the Tarrasque's pebbled skin echoing like thunder over even the sounds of Ruth's footfalls.
They left the shelter of the mountains behind. The titan hesitated at the foothills, sensing Raymond's apprehension over returning to Terrastella with the pieces of their sovereign and an apocalypse engine in tow, but he spurred her on with a stern command.
However gently the titan tried to travel, nothing could be done for the constant sway and shudder of the clawed hand that held them with every step. She was meant only to destroy, had only ever been meant to destroy, and her hands lacked the delicacy afforded a surgeon. The constant abuse was enough to shake the dagger loose from its place as a pin in Florentine's makeshift tourniquet, and before the red stallion noticed the hideous gash was weeping again, slowed at least by the coagulating influence of the yarrow in her poultice. Cursing, he wound the dagger again until it would go no tighter and the oozing slowed again to a viscous upwelling from the wound.
I'm sorry, Ruth repeated, and again Raymond did not respond.
His silence was reprimand enough.
They pressed north, toward Tinea.
-
The hospital was something of which Raymond had been informed during his time in Terrastella, but he had never been himself. Were it not for his vantage point high in Ruth's protective grasp and through her own eyes, he doubted he would ever have been able to find it on his own.
The Tarrasque stalked through the swamp without regard for the destruction she left in her wake. Trees snapped like matchsticks against her powerful limbs; her clawed feet left deep furrows that filled with murky water as soon as she moved on. Her passage changed the landscape around her without trying. Raymond glanced at the flower maiden curled limply at his side and cursed her openly for her folly.
"Is this what you had in mind?"
Being unconscious, she didn't answer. The red stallion scowled.
Raymond. It was the first thing other than 'sorry' that the beast had managed to say in hours, and it came as the swamped flung wide its proverbial arms of what could only be the hospital of which Florentine had spoken. Put us down, he ordered without hesitation, blood rising in his ears again as equines scattered below like ants from the Tarrasque's frightful form. His derisive scowl vanished beneath a look of cold iron as he leapt lightly to the ground ahead of Ruth's clumsy attempt to lay the broken sovereign gently at the hospital entrance.
The jostling had dislodged part of Raymond's makeshift poultice. Florentine's hind leg, a livid purple building around the bloodied tourniquet he'd made of her chain, began oozing dark, viscous liquid once more. Her wing fell across her body like a heavy blanket.
I'm sorry, came the refrain. Raymond did not need to look her way for her to feel his withering regard.
"Your queen needs a healer!" the red stallion bellowed sharply. To Ruth, he added, Don't touch anything. You've done enough. Obediently the Tarrasque did the best she could to make herself small, lowering herself to the earth, curling her arms catlike beneath her chest, and laying her head on the ground. The repentant gesture did nothing to allay the fears of onlookers. Her teeth were as big as he was.
They left the shelter of the mountains behind. The titan hesitated at the foothills, sensing Raymond's apprehension over returning to Terrastella with the pieces of their sovereign and an apocalypse engine in tow, but he spurred her on with a stern command.
However gently the titan tried to travel, nothing could be done for the constant sway and shudder of the clawed hand that held them with every step. She was meant only to destroy, had only ever been meant to destroy, and her hands lacked the delicacy afforded a surgeon. The constant abuse was enough to shake the dagger loose from its place as a pin in Florentine's makeshift tourniquet, and before the red stallion noticed the hideous gash was weeping again, slowed at least by the coagulating influence of the yarrow in her poultice. Cursing, he wound the dagger again until it would go no tighter and the oozing slowed again to a viscous upwelling from the wound.
I'm sorry, Ruth repeated, and again Raymond did not respond.
His silence was reprimand enough.
They pressed north, toward Tinea.
The hospital was something of which Raymond had been informed during his time in Terrastella, but he had never been himself. Were it not for his vantage point high in Ruth's protective grasp and through her own eyes, he doubted he would ever have been able to find it on his own.
The Tarrasque stalked through the swamp without regard for the destruction she left in her wake. Trees snapped like matchsticks against her powerful limbs; her clawed feet left deep furrows that filled with murky water as soon as she moved on. Her passage changed the landscape around her without trying. Raymond glanced at the flower maiden curled limply at his side and cursed her openly for her folly.
"Is this what you had in mind?"
Being unconscious, she didn't answer. The red stallion scowled.
Raymond. It was the first thing other than 'sorry' that the beast had managed to say in hours, and it came as the swamped flung wide its proverbial arms of what could only be the hospital of which Florentine had spoken. Put us down, he ordered without hesitation, blood rising in his ears again as equines scattered below like ants from the Tarrasque's frightful form. His derisive scowl vanished beneath a look of cold iron as he leapt lightly to the ground ahead of Ruth's clumsy attempt to lay the broken sovereign gently at the hospital entrance.
The jostling had dislodged part of Raymond's makeshift poultice. Florentine's hind leg, a livid purple building around the bloodied tourniquet he'd made of her chain, began oozing dark, viscous liquid once more. Her wing fell across her body like a heavy blanket.
I'm sorry, came the refrain. Raymond did not need to look her way for her to feel his withering regard.
"Your queen needs a healer!" the red stallion bellowed sharply. To Ruth, he added, Don't touch anything. You've done enough. Obediently the Tarrasque did the best she could to make herself small, lowering herself to the earth, curling her arms catlike beneath her chest, and laying her head on the ground. The repentant gesture did nothing to allay the fears of onlookers. Her teeth were as big as he was.
@Asterion @Florentine | takes place before the sovereign audition and disasters.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
