tags: // code © inkbone // "Speech."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This was not his home.
But it was his father's, and here he was, on one of his many fruitless trips. Except now, he was surrounded by anger and bloodshed and wrath and...
He hardly ever trekked here for the sake of his father anymore, but rather for another unfortunate soul that often found himself tangled in the sandstorm: Tamran. The quiet and withdrawn little healer that had touched a dying part of his soul, touched a part of his humanity he thought he had lost.
He felt his heart in his chest. Felt the pulse of blood through his veins, felt his chest tighten and muscles seize. Where is he? Is he okay? blasted through his mind. What is happening? Why is this happening? like a whirlwind.
The young boy was locked in place, his hooves hardly able to move, as bodies rushed all around him. As blood sprayed at his feet and coated his ankles, as screams and howls and roars deafened his eardrums, as the smell of sweat and copper burned his nostrils.
Heart beat against his chest like a wardrum, thrumming against his sternum like a frantic, trapped bird. Innocent blue eyes darted from body to body - he couldn't tell who they were or .. which side was which. Were there two sides? Why were there two sides? What was going on? What-
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Then it happened. Someone saw the helpless young creature, just standing there amidst the fray... and it was not someone with right intentions. Solterran or Davke, Siavax would never know - he hardly knew any of these faces to begin with. All he knew was that the bloodlust that clouded their eyes was daunting, and he felt his own soul crack when their gazes met.
But he was helpless to stop them - helpless as their hooves ground into the dirt with intention, their head snaked low and muscles tense. Those innocent blues stared, wide and white-rimmed, as his breath hitched. Muscles quaked just enough for his limbs to slowly step back, head raised in fright. He was taken too off-guard to allow himself to be angry, for he knew naught what was even happening as it whirled around him.
All he knew was his eyes clenched tight as the other lunged for him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He heard his name, and his eyes jerked open.
Just in time to see his father slam into the other who lunged at him - just in time to see blood and teeth and skin and flesh and wounds. His breath caught in his throat, and the time it took his father to fight the assailant felt like bloody hours. Sia felt the copper and sweat build up in his nostrils, overwhelming his senses all over again... and in a split second, it was done.
The assailant turned and ran, and Tor's gaze - his father's gaze - was on him. The much larger stallion shoved Sia from behind, and he stumbled forward, limbs shaky and breath still hanging in his throat, head whipping around to stare back at the plum and white stallion.. it was only when the snarl bit his ears -- I said GO -- that he felt himself snap out of it. The screams had not died down, the bellows and roars still pierced the air - but he knew, for once, his father was trying to do something relatively noble.
And so they ran, side by side, away from the fray and away from the Court. Sia wondered why his father did not stay to fight... but he felt like he knew the answer. Tor was hardly attached to anyone - hell, Siavax himself hardly knew anything about the Warden... his father. It wouldn't surprise the young boy if his father held little true allegiance or loyalty to Solterra.
Those thoughts clouded his mind as he felt his father's heavy hoofbeats beside his own, felt the sand kick up at their heels and cling to their hides. He didn't know where they were going - all he knew was they were going away from Solterra.
But it was his father's, and here he was, on one of his many fruitless trips. Except now, he was surrounded by anger and bloodshed and wrath and...
He hardly ever trekked here for the sake of his father anymore, but rather for another unfortunate soul that often found himself tangled in the sandstorm: Tamran. The quiet and withdrawn little healer that had touched a dying part of his soul, touched a part of his humanity he thought he had lost.
He felt his heart in his chest. Felt the pulse of blood through his veins, felt his chest tighten and muscles seize. Where is he? Is he okay? blasted through his mind. What is happening? Why is this happening? like a whirlwind.
The young boy was locked in place, his hooves hardly able to move, as bodies rushed all around him. As blood sprayed at his feet and coated his ankles, as screams and howls and roars deafened his eardrums, as the smell of sweat and copper burned his nostrils.
Heart beat against his chest like a wardrum, thrumming against his sternum like a frantic, trapped bird. Innocent blue eyes darted from body to body - he couldn't tell who they were or .. which side was which. Were there two sides? Why were there two sides? What was going on? What-
Then it happened. Someone saw the helpless young creature, just standing there amidst the fray... and it was not someone with right intentions. Solterran or Davke, Siavax would never know - he hardly knew any of these faces to begin with. All he knew was that the bloodlust that clouded their eyes was daunting, and he felt his own soul crack when their gazes met.
But he was helpless to stop them - helpless as their hooves ground into the dirt with intention, their head snaked low and muscles tense. Those innocent blues stared, wide and white-rimmed, as his breath hitched. Muscles quaked just enough for his limbs to slowly step back, head raised in fright. He was taken too off-guard to allow himself to be angry, for he knew naught what was even happening as it whirled around him.
All he knew was his eyes clenched tight as the other lunged for him.
He heard his name, and his eyes jerked open.
Just in time to see his father slam into the other who lunged at him - just in time to see blood and teeth and skin and flesh and wounds. His breath caught in his throat, and the time it took his father to fight the assailant felt like bloody hours. Sia felt the copper and sweat build up in his nostrils, overwhelming his senses all over again... and in a split second, it was done.
The assailant turned and ran, and Tor's gaze - his father's gaze - was on him. The much larger stallion shoved Sia from behind, and he stumbled forward, limbs shaky and breath still hanging in his throat, head whipping around to stare back at the plum and white stallion.. it was only when the snarl bit his ears -- I said GO -- that he felt himself snap out of it. The screams had not died down, the bellows and roars still pierced the air - but he knew, for once, his father was trying to do something relatively noble.
And so they ran, side by side, away from the fray and away from the Court. Sia wondered why his father did not stay to fight... but he felt like he knew the answer. Tor was hardly attached to anyone - hell, Siavax himself hardly knew anything about the Warden... his father. It wouldn't surprise the young boy if his father held little true allegiance or loyalty to Solterra.
Those thoughts clouded his mind as he felt his father's heavy hoofbeats beside his own, felt the sand kick up at their heels and cling to their hides. He didn't know where they were going - all he knew was they were going away from Solterra.
