As the moon hung lazily in the sky, painting the City and the desert beyond in silver hues, Helios watched from the outer wall, content to simply stare. He was not on duty, he did not need to be there. But sleep eluded the soldier as it always did, so full of nightmares and ghosts of his past that he’d rather brave exhaustion than those. This early in the morning, before the sun had even begun to crest the horizon, Solis’ people slept, cradled by the cool of the winter night. It was peaceful, even if peace was never Helios’ friend.
Yet the peace did not last long. The steed faced away from the great gates but when a roar shook the very stone beneath his hooves, tearing into the silence and carving apart the night, the sun-marked stallion whirled around in disbelief. It was not terror that filtered through his veins (the training he’d received as a child had a way of trivialising such a feeling) but instead surprise. A Teryr stood atop the front gate, proud and glorious. It was surely a sign from Solis? That after all the years, all the bloodshed there was finally to be something good? But in that very moment it foretold only pain as the creature took to the air once more, circling over Solterra’s streets. Instinct kicked in, as it always did, and the warrior careened down the nearest flight of stairs just as the warning bell sounded.
It was perhaps a blessing that the attack occurred at such early hours of the morning, when most were tucked safely away in bed. Getting through the streets was far easier without crowds running in terror. Yet the alarm awoke many and already panic was beginning to show on the faces of those awake.
Close to the gates now he recognises Teiran- for the collar around her neck as much as her face. A collar that also circles his own throat, a cold yet oddly comforting weight that reminds him who and what he is. He spies Jahin too, spear at the ready as he faces down the creature. But the soft plunk of stone against skin steals the stag’s attention and he spots the young Locke tossing rubble at the beast. For a moment he is a child himself, lanky and untested, wielding nothing but courage, reckless courage. And then another roar draws him back the present, haunted by the cool press of metal as his throat. A snarl paints his lips, vicious and wild as any desert predator. With an audible flurry of feathers his wings pop into existence, flung open as he pulls into a rear and strikes the air with flailing hooves. There is little room to spread them wide, to roll his shoulders and enjoy the sensation of freeing the hidden appendages. Instead he thrusts them down to launch himself the short distance to a low roof top where at least he can throw them open fully, flapping them testily before taking to the air. Hoping the Teryr is too concerned with those on the ground to notice him, Helios gains height until he is above the predatory bird, though still a little away from it. Like Jahin he readies his own spear, but rather than risk losing it in avian flesh or among the legs and hooves of panicked crowds, the warrior prepares to dive and strike.
Mentions @
basically just takes to the sky to fly higher than the Teryr, is about 30 metres away but aims his spear so that he can dive and strike at the top of the beast
