Isra is waiting, and waiting, and waiting. But for the first time it doesn't feel like she's waiting for war, or for the fury growing in vines along her bones to rip through the surface of her. It only feels like she's waiting to figure out what will be left of her after the end of Raum. Or maybe she's only thinking about what will be left when the two stars growing into constellations of flesh and bone in her womb fall to earth.
Either way Isra is waiting beneath the shaded curl of her dragon's wing at the edge of the Steppe. A herd of elk is watching them warily from the distant thicket, and Isra wonders if it's Fable they're worried about or the magic in her veins whispering things like become and change at them like small tremors of the earth. She's trying not to think about them too much when Morrighan appears across the horizon.
Isra trots to meet her. The smile of her face almost waivers when she feels the way her skin stretches wrongly over her belly, or the way all her bones feel full of rust instead of marrow. She blinks and begs a little of her fury and fire to return.
It works.
The quiver and bow slung across her shoulder start to glow. Strange patterns of light move across the curl of neck when she pauses only long enough to make a move to brush their noses together. “I'm glad you did.” She says in a whisper too soft for a battlefield before she pulls away and starts to trot in a lazy dragon sized circle around Morrighan. Each step comes easier than the last and soon her body feels alive with adrenaline fulled by magic and the steady, cold pressure of moon-fire at her shoulder.
“Someone told me once that magic is like a sea waiting deep in the dark of us. First all we can see is the shine of it, like a glimmer of glass along the horizon.” Isra begins loudly. Each word echoes the soft thump of her hooves on the packed dirt. It sounds a little like a story begging to be a war, all violence and no wonder. She inhales as she draws the lunar bow and notches an arrow. The glow of it makes her eyes look like hooded, blue flames caught in the darkness of her face. “You have to go deeper, past the riptide, to find the belly of it. It should feel like you are suffocating” Isra gathers her steps, turns and tries (so very hard) to aim above the peak of Morrighan's hip.
Even now she laments against hurting things that she loves.
Isra exhales.“Try to burn it.”When she releases the arrow it whistles through the air like a falling star singing through the black space of night. It's not until the arrow is inches from Morrighan that Isra closes her eyes. The glow of the arrow winks out so that it is nothing more than black, flexible wood and a glass point rushing at Morrighan.
She opens her eyes, angles her body back to the larger circle, and continues to trot.
Summary: Isra is chilling beneath Fable's wing because the sun is kind of strong. She takes a moment to ponder all the ways in which she is a little lost and a little pregnant. When she see's Morrighan she leaves the shade and trots to meet her. After a brief pause, in which she fails to say 'hello' in words and instead tries to touch their noses together, she picks up another trot. After circling around Morrighan, and talking a bit about how magic lives in a body, she notches the lunar bow. It's glowing. Isra aims it above Morrighan's hip because she's terrified of hurting one of her court citizens. Just as it's about to reach Morrighan the glow of the arrow blinks out so it's only a plain wooden arrow. She pulls away and continues to trot a circle.
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: The lunar bow was used
Response Deadline: 7/24/19
Tags: @Morrighan, @Sid, @inkbone, @Sparrow, @nestle, @
