Beaten. Crumpled. Weak.
The viper has lost her stinging bite, left broken and withered down to a mere shadow of her former self. It is clear in the way she lays in a heap on the ground that Avdotya has shed her desire to fight- that perhaps it is death’s cold embrace she now awaits instead of her next opportunity to wreak havoc upon the boy king and his castle. She has held fast for so long, maintained her will to resist and fed her hope that somehow she would feel the Mors’ hot sand underfoot again someday. For so long
But alas, even the mightiest must shed their strength when reality comes calling.
So she does not rise when a man appears before her dark, dusty cage, standing there expectantly and without words. He rattles its bars only to elicit the subtle turn of a weathered ear, at which point he is prompted to grab her chains and simply drag the mare out to the raucous arena that calls for her execution. She is on her feet by the time they reach the dark alleyway leading out to the pit, refusing to abandon what little dignity she has left to her name. Even covered in dirt, she knows that if she is to die here in front of Zolin’s hungry dogs, then it will be with grace.
And yet even grace is hard to come by despite her best efforts. The gamekeeper unceremoniously throws her out into the harsh light of the arena, down to her knees and into the dust with the song of a bloodthirsty crowd all around her. She blinks uncontrollably in an attempt to adjust to the sun - the sun, oh, how she has forgotten its heat on her skin - and staggers clumsily back to her hooves to face whatever beast it is that snarls angrily in the shadows. The animal is not what holds her attention, however; her eyes, finally able to focus, are already locking on Zolin in his lavish suite. He stands there surrounded by food and lavish pillows, mares huddled at his side jostling for an ounce of his attention. They are not who he cares for in this moment, though. Zolin, of course, is too busy relishing in that damned Davke girl's imminent death. Even from down below she can hear his horrid laugh.
She hears it while the anticipation builds in her bones, she can hear it as the great grizzly emerges and unleashes a gods-awful shriek. She hears him when the bear’s jagged claws rake across her entire left side and as she stands dripping and smeared with blood. Everything else in the world is muted except for him- she feels nothing, she sees nothing, she knows nothing. His laughter, unrelenting, is quite possibly the last straw that forces her back to the ground, laying there waiting for death to find her. Now more than anything, the Davke yearns for it. Solis, kill me, she begs... but then, in some cruel twist, the keeper orders her spear to be tossed into the pit. It hits the ground, sending a wooden echo from the shaft that seems to eat through every other ounce of sound and silence it all. For a moment, Avdotya finally hears nothing. Nothing except:
Fight.
The word comes over and over and over again. Fight, Avdotya. She does not know the voice, but somehow she feels it in the way that one feels the wind against their face or the sun upon their back. The ground itself seems to reach up around her, insisting that the young mare to get up. Get up, get up! Each time it repeats, Avdotya feels her body swell with an ethereal strength, like she is being possessed by some otherworldly figure.
Fight.
Her legs do not quiver when she pushes herself to her feet, her gaze doesn’t falter from that of the grizzly’s. Her body sings for the fight now, ravishing at the sight of that unholy beast when he breaks into a wild charge. The woman hungers for his blood as he does hers- he may not be Zolin, but the boy king is all Avdotya sees on that great bear’s head. Her mind spirals into a frenzy and her bones follow suit. In the thrum of the excitement, her spear is summoned to her as naturally as if it were another part of her (as it always has been) and the moment that old weapon finds its place at her side, Avdotya truly feels her most deadly. It hits like a shockwave, that burst of power, and suddenly the desert around her awaits her command.
Feverishly, the ground begins to quake, reaching up for the bear’s legs and pulling them out from beneath him. It sends him into a thunderous fall, one that met the Davke’s path almost perfectly - all she needs to lurch forward and drive her spearhead square between his eyes.
The crowd is quiet. Zolin is silent, but Solis is not.
Fight, Avdotya.
This, the viper decides, is the day the boy king dies.
| Messages In This Thread |
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if she was the earth - by Random Events - 04-28-2020, 02:38 PM
RE: if she was the earth - by Avdotya - 08-24-2020, 09:36 PM
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