[Judged] COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP

[Seraphina]

S E R A P H I N A

in the absence of everything
ABSTAIN FROM FEAR

--

The skin around Seraphina’s throat burned, but not in the manner she might have expected. The constant lash of sunlight and heat was so normal as to be almost unnoticeable under Solterran skies, but the burning around her collar felt more like the lick of flames against her skin. She recognized the sensation, long as it had been since she’d felt it – she didn’t think that she would ever become used to the way Viceroy’s powers seemed to linger, a phantom pain that she thought that she’d never truly be rid of. This was an ache that she was accustomed to, however, and it distracted her from the comparatively minor throbbing in her leg. Some aches were temporary, she had learned, but some of them haunted you like ghosts.

This was a temporary one, she told herself, but only if she fought like hell, because this man wanted to hurt her.

Perhaps it was because she’d become unaccustomed to the pure violence and ruthless brutality of war that her leg was currently twisted beneath her, but now she felt like she’d been drenched in cold water. One thought crystallized in her mind: she had to finish this before he maimed her. The notion of death didn’t matter to Seraphina at all, but, without her leg, she’d be ineffectual, and that was far worse. Though he danced out of the way of her legs, she felt her teeth close on the thick flesh of his neck. A choking rush of sticky red clotted in her throat, dripping down her jaws in thin streams of oozing heat. He jerked away, exhaling another shriek of pain, then lunged towards her with his massive, knife-sharp antlers. Labored by her injured limb, she was unable to completely evade his slash, but Seraphina managed to use the distance she had already put between them to dance away from the blunt of it, receiving little more than a series of shallow, stinging gashes along her shoulder.

He paused, then, a bloody visage a more romantic creature might have compared to death; Seraphina, however, only saw a man. The stallion seemed to wait for her to attack, head lowered and rack of antlers bared, but she was not fool enough to prolong the fight, considering the injuries that she had already obtained. He seemed to shrink as the rage left him, dissipated like bits of dust caught in a strong wind. For just a moment, Seraphina found herself reminded of Viceroy, staring into the void, empty eyes of the black stallion. (He lay in a heap of feathers and half-dried blood on the cold, rough sandstone floor of the keep, hissing with pain as he did up his own stitches. She offered to help, in her childish naivete, but he screamed, and she ran – down the halls, through the gateways, out into the cold, desaturated night of the Mors. He didn’t come after her, for once, and she didn’t come back for a week. She almost didn’t come back at all, but Seraphina didn’t know where else to run.) His expression shifted, and she saw a ghost of what she pinpointed as amusement flicker across his feature. He proceeded to offer a truce.

She replied with a dip of her charcoal head. “Truce.” Her voice comes out cold as steel, void of any hint of pain or exhaust, evident as they might be in her posture by looking at her. As he made his way away from her, Seraphina gazed up at the crystal-clear blue of the sky, and mentally recites a prayer to Solis – one of the older ones, discovered after days of delving through manuscripts in the library. “Gir-tha ziha,” She whispered, a waver finding its way into her tone. I have survived.

As she began to turn back towards Solterra, Seraphina was struck with a sudden notion and turned to look back at the retreating silhouette of the stallion. His skill was obvious, and Solterra always had a need for skilled warriors. With that in mind, she decided to follow him, heat bearing down on the gashes that marred her silver coat, metallic with sweat – the blood was already beginning to crust.

Solis willing, she would return home with more than bruises and scrapes.

@

---

---

Summary: Seraphina bites Ammon; he grazes her in the shoulder when he lashes at her with his antlers but doesn't do too much damage because she gets out of the way of the blunt of his attack. He stops, and she realizes it's stupid to keep fighting him, especially considering that her leg is injured. Aaaaaand, then she decides to follow him and attempt to recruit him for Solterra, because, you know. He's capable.

Attack Used: 0
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: N/A

Response Deadline: N/A - complete!
Tags: @Ammon, @kay, @inkbone, AND @Sid