and went home with it
For a moment, time stood still. The flames stopped their roaring and their dancing, the wind held its breath, and all the world fell silent as Toulouse slowly turned to look at his companion. The light from the fires is casting deep shadows over his face, obscuring his features in darkness. But the palomino can see the whites of his eyes; whether it’s out of fear, surprise, or something else he isn’t quite sure.
The golden ring on his horn is laughing.
The world starts again, but in slow motion. He watches with a mixture of horror and grim delight as a red figure, dark horns spiraling away from a bone-white face, emerged from the smoke and shadows. She ran at Abel, but it was slow, so slow; he could count the time it took for each hoof to strike the ground, and he opened his mouth to warn the bay, to tell him to move, to catch his attention -
- But then time rights itself, and slams back into place.
The chestnut collides with the bay, and in the blink of an eye, Toulouse disappears. A twist of that laughing ring is all it takes to render his frame invisible, turning the wolf into a ghost.
It’s a strange thing, watching a scene play in front of you like a movie. He’s not apart of their collision, not really; if he were to reach out and shake Abel’s shoulder he would feel it clear as day, but the horned man can’t convince himself to do so. He only waits, and watches as his companion tumbles to the ground, dust and smoke enveloping his frame.
”Please.”
His voice is a whisper in the dark, choking on the thick night air. Toulouse inches closer, testing fate.
”They’re getting away-“
His green eyes widen, then narrow. Carefully avoiding the chestnut mare, he steps close, oh so close, until he can whisper in the turncloak’s ear:
“I’ll be sure to send Raum your regards.”
He doesn’t know if she hears him - he doesn’t care, to her he’s a ghost, a figment of her imagination (or so he imagines.) But he watches Abel’s face, waiting for the recognition, the confirmation that he was heard.
And then as the sound of hoofbeats ring out against the cobblestone streets, and more horses appear in the distance, he slips away into the night.
And he doesn’t look back.
@abel @boudika
toulouse is out!
