And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying,
'Come and see.' and I saw.
***
One of the four beasts saying,
'Come and see.' and I saw.
***
The ranger offered Araxes enough attention to follow the thread of her words, taking the points of data they offered and stitching them into the chaotic tapestry that his trek through the flooded city streets had cobbled together. Thunder clapped overhead as some semblance of process took shape in the trickle of horses taking shelter in the castle, called to shelter by the scaled unicorn Isra.
If Calliope had been in the city, she would have made her presence known by now.
We cannot let our people get hurt or fall, Araxes concluded.
Raymond fixed her with a stony glance, battle haze creeping over his expression like hoarfrost. "If they made it this far," he replied, invoking the dragon and forced imprisonment with a derisive verbal handwave, "then they won't fall now." No one who walks through fire comes out the same creature they were before. Fire forges anew, makes phoenixes of those that dare to emerge on the other side.
The flashes of a distressingly distant battle went off like fireworks in the back corners of his mind. A flash of pain, deadened by unreality, sent dull ripples through his consciousness. He stamped his impatience.
"Keep order here. There's scant shelter between here and the Armas, and if those things are after a meal I'd rather they try red meat on for size." He clicked his tongue and flashed a knowing half-grin before charging off toward Night Court's outer walls. What he saw when he reached them was truly a sight to behold - and that's saying a lot, given the general fuckery that the riftlands got up to.
Lightning arced like spider lace across the livid blue-black sky, illuminating the dark silhouettes of thunderbirds as they approached the court on the wing. Vitreus lake seemed to be not a mirror but a pit, out of whose belly forks of lightning spun with grasping fingers toward their sisters in the sky. Some of the birds had joined in battle with what must have been pegasi, but what madness would draw them aloft in this storm the red stallion could not say. What he could say was that they needed help here, in defense of the city.
Ruth. Come.
A ground-shattering roar rose from the distant north, scarcely more than another peal of thunder in the deepening storm. The link between them was red, red, red, and the cat he knew slipped beneath the Tarrasque's bloodwrath as though victim to a swift, sure current. Raymond's tail blade curved up over his back as he stood, a lone streak of crimson in the open space between the thunderbirds and the court.
If Calliope had been in the city, she would have made her presence known by now.
We cannot let our people get hurt or fall, Araxes concluded.
Raymond fixed her with a stony glance, battle haze creeping over his expression like hoarfrost. "If they made it this far," he replied, invoking the dragon and forced imprisonment with a derisive verbal handwave, "then they won't fall now." No one who walks through fire comes out the same creature they were before. Fire forges anew, makes phoenixes of those that dare to emerge on the other side.
The flashes of a distressingly distant battle went off like fireworks in the back corners of his mind. A flash of pain, deadened by unreality, sent dull ripples through his consciousness. He stamped his impatience.
"Keep order here. There's scant shelter between here and the Armas, and if those things are after a meal I'd rather they try red meat on for size." He clicked his tongue and flashed a knowing half-grin before charging off toward Night Court's outer walls. What he saw when he reached them was truly a sight to behold - and that's saying a lot, given the general fuckery that the riftlands got up to.
Lightning arced like spider lace across the livid blue-black sky, illuminating the dark silhouettes of thunderbirds as they approached the court on the wing. Vitreus lake seemed to be not a mirror but a pit, out of whose belly forks of lightning spun with grasping fingers toward their sisters in the sky. Some of the birds had joined in battle with what must have been pegasi, but what madness would draw them aloft in this storm the red stallion could not say. What he could say was that they needed help here, in defense of the city.
Ruth. Come.
A ground-shattering roar rose from the distant north, scarcely more than another peal of thunder in the deepening storm. The link between them was red, red, red, and the cat he knew slipped beneath the Tarrasque's bloodwrath as though victim to a swift, sure current. Raymond's tail blade curved up over his back as he stood, a lone streak of crimson in the open space between the thunderbirds and the court.
***
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.
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
