[AW] threnody

[Seraphina]

It did not take long for others to begin to gather – Avdotya, dark and stoic as ever, the pretty slip of palomino she believed was named Bexley, Leviathan, a clear asset for his massive bulk, scars, and cragged horn, the somewhat unexpected Inkheart, whom she had deemed some sort of wandering missionary rather than a warrior (though, she supposed, as an evident devotee of Solis she could very well be both), and, finally, Torstein. (Seraphina was still unsure of how she felt about him, but she supposed that with his stature, he was capable, and that was what they needed.) Avdotya offered a greeting, and Bexley and Leviathan arrived in silence. Initially, the only other equine to speak was Inkheart, who almost immediately (whilst puffing and preening like a bird bathing in the Oasis) extended her great wings and seemed to expand as she offered a retort that might have been biting to the silver mare. Seraphina fixed her with an expression that was, while distinctly unimpressed, slightly perplexed. Was she suggesting that her words were coddling? Teryrs had ravaged entire patrols in the past – it was foolish to throw unknowing warriors into the fray with no preparation. In her moment of contemplation, Torstein offered a retort to the jet-black mare, words perhaps equally scathing. To her own surprise, in spite of her mask of cold apathy, some of the words that immediately sprung to mind were venomous; but Seraphina had no interest in further aggravating the situation, not when the teryr could come sweeping down from the canyon walls any moment. The last thing that they needed was infighting. She held her tongue.

Not that she would have had much time to verbally spar the mare, anyways – a screech that momentarily sent her mind whirling and a surge of primal fear (flight instinct, Viceroy would have called it) running through her veins, hot and frantic. Her eyes moved faster than her head, and they were practically rolling as she caught sight of the feathered monster, diving down from the canyon walls with its talons curved out and beak snapping down on hot, hazy air with a disgusting crunch. It did not take her long to recover her carefully - systematically - instilled calm, and, even as her eyes locked with the beast and she realized that it was hurtling towards her, she kept her gaze even, cold and calculated. Her brow furrowed as she examined the curve of its body in the split-second before impact, and she realized that it was going to try to knock her off balance. Her legs itched to run, but she knew that she wouldn’t escape its onslaught, so she simply stood, eyes narrowed.

She cursed inwardly as the teryr flung her to the ground; she did not fight it, and, rather, focused on controlling her fall. (“Panic ends with broken bones, Seraphina.”) Her legs buckled neatly, and she found herself tucked beneath the bird’s great, jagged talons. As those sharp, monstrous talons dug into her shoulders and sides, raking and ravaging and reducing the glimmering silver of her torso to a cesspool of blood and tatters of ribboned flesh, she did not let out a sound. In the back of her mind, Seraphina could hear her name – was that Maxence? The burst of hot air that escaped in each beat of the monster’s wings made it impossible for her to tell. She was back on her hooves even in the fray of its onslaught, and, in the fraction of a second between her rise and the teryr’s escape, slashing off towards Leviathan, she used her close proximity to aim a sharp, violent kick towards the legs that had only just been scraping down her torso, hoping for a break, or, at the very least, a sprain. If the creature could not land, or stay balanced on the ground, they would have a decided advantage. Before she could actually assess the damage that had been done to the teryr, it was in flight again, dashing to assail Leviathan, and then Inkheart – she thought that she heard the crunch of bones when the teryr went after the black mare, but she couldn’t be certain. She did see her slump in a heap of feathers and limbs, and supposed the damage was enough to keep her out of the fight, at least for the time being.

As she blinked copper from her eyes and heaved in a few breaths, thick lines of blood staining her sides and hair bright red, she surveyed the situation laid out in front of her; Maxence seemed to be after one of the joints in the teryr’s wing, Leviathan assailed the teryr frantically, hooves swirling at anything he could reach. Over the slump of the creature’s back, she thought that she saw Avdotya, spear aimed at the base of the teryr’s tail, and Torstein seemed to have joined Leviathan at the teryr’s wing, sharp horns jabbing up towards the underside of the wing. She shook off the splitting pain in her sides – the gashes were deep, but not deep enough to discourage her – and darted back towards the teryr, fluid strides betraying none of the pain she was obviously experiencing. The teryr was still flapping its massive wings, bruising and throwing her companions. If any that had focused their assault on the wings were successful in damaging a joint, particularly in the shoulder, she expected that the creature would be downed. However, as she darted across the fray, steering clear of the range of the animal’s vicious, snapping beak and elongated neck, she found herself devising another, if less graceful, manner of grounding the creature. Its wings were quite like a bat’s, she decided, and the majority of each limb consisted of a relatively thin, stretched membrane that was not designed to hold weight. She ventured towards its flailing wings, eyes narrowed and limbs tensed in a prowl that was practically catlike, and, pressing all of her weight onto her hindquarters, surged upwards and out in an attempt to lunge down on the membranous folds of the teryr’s wings, practically pouncing. Were she to miss her target, she would land gracefully on the sand below, ducking away from the wild flailing of the teryr; were she to actually make her jump, rest assured that she would press her sharp hooves down with as much pressure as possible, seeking to use her mass and angle to tear through the teryr’s wing.


summary : gets really badly messed up on the back and sides; bleeding heavily from deep gashes, will be feeling it come the next post. While the teryr is bearing down on her, she attempts to kick one of its legs and break it, and, after it darts off to harass the others, she chases it, edges towards one of the wings and attempts to jump on top of it (Holsteiner blood coming out?) to try and tear the membrane.

gyah sorry this took so long >>