I'll be a stone, I'll be the hunter,
The tower that casts a shade
***
The tower that casts a shade
***
Leave us, Asterion said, and it was more invitation than Raymond needed. He had not wanted to return to Terrastella now as it was, not after the rebuke that Florentine had seen fit to deliver him saw fit to tell him exactly how his courtesy had been received. No, he had come only because he cared enough about Florentine not to be satisfied with her own karma catching up with her on his watch. He had come to save her life and, having done that much, had been ready to leave since the moment his hooves had touched ground.
"Of course," he replied. "Ruth!"
The titan uncurled herself where she lay, delicately unwinding her endless expanse of tail and getting her gangling arms and legs beneath her with a repentant hyperawareness for the creatures that might have been scurrying about near enough to be endangered. With an infrasonic groan of effort she roused herself to her feet, shaking off cakes of mud and detritus that fell like hail to the clearing below.
She extended her bloodied hand, palm up, expectant. Raymond turned to climb aboard and looked over his shoulder as Asterion's voice reached him in parting.
Is Calliope going, too?
He thought about the dark mare, the way she had swept like a storm cloud into Night Court after him, laid bare her heart and his with a single stroke of her heartbroken rage. He thought about forever, about how no mortal can hope to tame the wild seas or capture the wind. It was not his place to speak for Calliope, even if he knew the answer.
He paused only long enough to meet Asterion's eye, to deliver a silent admonishment for asking of him what was for someone else to say, then hopped sinuously into Ruth's waiting palm. "Mind your step on the way out, my dear."
Rumbling her acknowledgement, the tarrasque curled her taloned hand into a protective cage around the red stallion and lifted him toward her chest, turning southeast toward the Armas once more.
"Of course," he replied. "Ruth!"
The titan uncurled herself where she lay, delicately unwinding her endless expanse of tail and getting her gangling arms and legs beneath her with a repentant hyperawareness for the creatures that might have been scurrying about near enough to be endangered. With an infrasonic groan of effort she roused herself to her feet, shaking off cakes of mud and detritus that fell like hail to the clearing below.
She extended her bloodied hand, palm up, expectant. Raymond turned to climb aboard and looked over his shoulder as Asterion's voice reached him in parting.
Is Calliope going, too?
He thought about the dark mare, the way she had swept like a storm cloud into Night Court after him, laid bare her heart and his with a single stroke of her heartbroken rage. He thought about forever, about how no mortal can hope to tame the wild seas or capture the wind. It was not his place to speak for Calliope, even if he knew the answer.
He paused only long enough to meet Asterion's eye, to deliver a silent admonishment for asking of him what was for someone else to say, then hopped sinuously into Ruth's waiting palm. "Mind your step on the way out, my dear."
Rumbling her acknowledgement, the tarrasque curled her taloned hand into a protective cage around the red stallion and lifted him toward her chest, turning southeast toward the Armas once more.
***
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.
@Asterion
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
