Araxes could feel every breath bringing in the taste of brine, sinking in to her lungs and causing her to gag. Her eyes burned and her body seemed to simply drift and move, the storm raging above, the waves moving her back and forth in the water. She felt like nothing but a rag doll, well aware of the pain lancing her from every wound, from new ones being formed as she was dragged over jagged shells and coral on the sandy bottom of the undertow.
Everything seemed to flash before her eyes up to this point, and another breath proved to be nothing but sea water that she attempted to cough out, legs thrashing and scraping more.
It had only been a stroll on the beach, that was all it was. A walk on the beach, a way to find the weeds in the water and certain plants that grew on the sands. The storm had been snarling in the distance but she was going to brave it. She needed some of the herbs from around here, for certain illness and aches, it was imperative to get them gathered and in stock.
"Take care you two," she had said to the boys with a smile, a kiss to each forehead despite the grumpy looks that were more playful than anything.
The journey had been fine, the beach had been gorgeous with the storm clouds far enough to wander on. A few plants and she'd be done, hadn't that been it?
She hadn't expected some sort of lurking danger, one that had pounced on her as she had rounded a corner. Sharp hooves and teeth and she had staggered along the rocks, backing off to a jutting edge that overlooked the sea. It hadn't been a far drop, but with punishing blows she had been sent toppling, leaving nothing but a few feathers in the air and blood on the rocks as she had gone down, had hit rocks. Had tasted brine and blood. Had seen the massive flash of lightning and the snarl of thunder.
Above, the figure waited, ensuring her demise.
The undertow was horrendous, and her legs gave a few kicks before she was suddenly breaking the surface, inhaling sharp stinging air. She gasped while she could before another wave crashed over her and she was sent head over heels in the water, feeling the impact of her body on the sands, on the shells, the drag of her hair and the sharp yanking and snapping of bones on a wing. Her screams were swallowed until there was nothing but near blackness.
By some miracle, a roaring surge came over, a massive wave that managed to throw her on the shore with it, a rare wave that had built up at the beach, and she was dragging on the sand, exhaling and coughing, raw and stinging. She couldn't see with her eyes closed, with the mane over her face, couldn't smell anything but salt and rain, the thunder and lightning above making it difficult to discern anything.
She did hear a voice however, her body shuddering. "Looks like it'll be you dying by my hooves, instead of the sea. Pity."
He was never far behind. Some call it stalking, he.. called it being overprotective. Or something; rather, something he wasn't quite sure of. All he knew is that he often felt his stomach roll, his intestines knot, and his chest tighten. Many times she never even knew he was there.. sometimes that might be for the better.
Now that he thought of it, he was sure he was probably just.. ill, or something as such. But then, if that was the case, she could cure him, could she not? The little Champion of Wisdom, ever so feverish in her duties.. surely she had a cure for him.
Or maybe she was the cure.
So lost in his thoughts he was, he wandered further away from the path that his little bird had taken. After all, all she was doing was wandering innocently along the beach with.. their.. two sons. Such an odd thing to think.. his children. Surely she must have been mad, to put up with him for this long; he wasn't even so sure what she saw in him - a big brute with no tact and little emotion. Those were not exactly appealing aspects, in any fashion or in any stretch of imagination.
But that shriek ripped him from his own imagination.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Nerves lit up and both ombre ears immediately swung forward like radars, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Where was she? Where was he? How stupid! Stupid stupid stupid! How can you forget where you are? How can you not know? When it matters most, why are you now lost? What the fuck is your purpose if you don't do what you're supposed to and PAY ATTENTION?
Muscles bunched, nerves sending electroshock signals across his body as he immediately lurched forward, not even knowing where he was going. His mind raced, but it was a blur. Why couldn't he think? For fuck's sake! He had commanded an empire, but now, all of the sudden, he couldn't defog his mind enough to figure out where the fuck he was going? Left from right?
He did know this: he was too far away.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It took him minutes that felt like hours, fire roaring through his veins and singing every nerve it passed. He felt numb, but he felt alive; the adrenaline kicked his heart right in the balls, so hard his stomach felt it too. He had been up along the cliff-side while Araxes had wandered the beach below.. he was stupid not to realize that was too far away.
People hated her because of him. This was his fault.
He realized this as he rounded the corner of the path that lead onto the beach.. realized this as soft sand met his hooves, splattering along his hocks and cracked hooves. For a brief moment, his haunches slipped out from under him with the moist sand, and he stumbled. Breath caught in his throat, and eyes the color of blood searched feverishly for his little bird. He had crossed onto a path a few feet above the beach itself, a path that weaved alongside the cliff and was moderately hidden by a natural outcropping of bushes along the trail. She may not be able to see him immediately, but he would certainly be able to see her.
She wasn't on the beach. Where was she?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In the distance, he saw a figure standing on a large outcropping of rocks below him, and he felt the stress flood out of him. She must have just found something that either excited or briefly scared her.. and for a moment, Tor slowed down, finally breathing. He scolded himself for panicking so badly... forced his heart to calm, forced his hooves to slow, now trotting slowly along the path towards the direction of the figure.
It was then that the wave crashed over the rocks, and the crumpled little bird heaved a saltwater breath onto the jagged outcropping. Tor stopped dead in his tracks, heart dropping and his eyes momentarily widening as his ears slapped back against the crown of his horns. He was maybe 50 feet from the duo - his little bird, crumpled and broken, and a figure he did not recognize. Heard the cruel words that slipped from the shadowed figure's lips.
And rage boiled in the marrow of his bones.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
With a fury like fire, like gasoline, like intoxicating madness, his muscles tightened and sprang him forward, heaving his substantial mass surprisingly quick along the path. There was no direct diversion from this path that lead onto the beach, and the farther along the path he galloped, the higher and farther away from the beach it climbed... higher and farther from the duo on the rocks.
And at some point, he made an unconscious decision - and thankfully his body agreed.
Colossal hooves thundered along the path, sweat slicking his coat and dripping into his eyes. Hot breath stung his nostrils, his muscles screamed; he didn't care. When he was finally close enough to the pair, his mind blocked out all distress signals his body was sending his brain.. and thick, weathered hooves left the dirt of the path.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Haunches like coiled steel springs had catapulted him off the small cliff-side path at an angle, roughly 8 feet higher than and 10 feet away from where Araxes and her assaulter stood. His concern only lay with the little spotted, crumpled mess on the rocks - and because of her, he lept from the path much farther away than he normally would, ensuring that the angle he charged towards them at was sharp enough that she would not be in his aim. He wasn't even sure he was going to be able to slow his momentum to avoid tumbling into Terminus himself, but at this point, that was not his main concern. It was so very, very far from it.
Instead, once he was sure of his trajectory, his massive head tucked down and close to his chest, the lethal tips of his pronged horns striking a deadly aim. He wanted to spear that bastard right in the ribs, and fling him away far, far away from his little bird.
Those regal horns that graced his head - sharp as they were impressive - had not seen Novus blood, but tonight they would. He would make sure of it.
chest cavity: closed // words: 1057 // headshot
@Araxes, you will be the death of me
It was storming, raining. She knew that much, felt it, or was that the spray of the sea? Everything ached and she couldn't see, her mane was out of its braid, and her herbs were lost to the vast ocean. The bag survived, pressing against her chest where she lay on it, but there was nothing she wanted to see, feeling as if she were tucked in some massive cocoon.
Perhaps she had water in her ears and nose, had burned them with the salt from the sea.
The voice was muffled again, though it sounded like some sort of laugh, dark and low. Some sort of tone. She hadn't known this horse from anyone else, could have easily just walked by them without ever seeing. They were no one to her, but she was someone to them, and she felt her lungs ache with a breath, her chest feeling like it was crushing in on itself, felt like she was wrapped up in tight bandages that were stealing her breath away.
She could only hear a muffled sound of laughter, and she was only partially aware of anything, her head lifting, swaying on her neck as if she could see.
"Oh. Looks like your prince charming has made his appearance." A laugh. "Coming to save her? Please, we both know it's better off this way, before a war breaks out."
The shuffle of hooves was sounded, and the stranger turned away from Araxes, leaving her to lay there, to slowly lower her head down once more, one wing at an awkward angle, tangled in her mane, the other shaking and cupped to her head, twitching out feathers every so often.
All the speckled mare wanted to do was sleep, and the roar of the storm didn't even make her flinch. Pain stung every inch of her body, and a cough brought up another mouthful of briny water that bubbled past her lips, her chin slowly lowering to make contact with the rock.
Sleep, she could sleep, couldn't she? Her eyes closed behind the sea of white that was her mane, her.. everything, hurting.
The sea lapped at her, brushing against her every so often and pushing at her back end, or pulling. Maybe it was trying to lull her back in to its grasp, but she found she was fine where she was, front legs splayed awkwardly and laying half on her side, her rear legs tucked as much as they could.
TRIGGER WARNING: VERY SERIOUS GORE AHEAD. POSTED WITH JEKYLL'S CONSENT.
His hooves connected against the hard stone of the rock outcroppings, a distinctive and intimidating CRACK ringing through the air upon first impact, and a surge of pain electrified his nerves and jolted along his spine. Joints bent beneath the force of impact as they attempted to absorb some of the shock, and immediately he swung his front half to the right as the figure retreated.
"You cowardly little bitch," came the growl, low and predatory, as it rolled from his throat. Anger seethed out of his pores, practically dripped from his eyes, and the reverbrating snort that ripped through his nostrils attested to his anger. "You want war?" came the snarl, volume steadily increasing as he gained traction again on the slippery, moss-covered rocks.
"I WILL SHOW YOU WAR," was the bellow, and his haunches coiled as muscles tightened and then flung him forward. Hooves left the ground as he lept forward, the snakeish figure of the unknown attempting to make his get-away on the beach.
But Tor would not let him escape, not with his blood still within his veins. No, it would be SPLATTERED all over the walls, over the sand; he would ensure that it would flood his throat before he saw the briny depths of the Terminus like he tried to fate Araxes to.
--------------------
The figure briefly regretted his decision, but he trusted his ability to run faster than the behemoth stallion. Hooves slapped the wet sand, and he only got roughly twenty feet before something just underneath the sand's surface caught his hoof and sent him stumbling. Breath hitched in his throat, and he stared back over his shoulder hastily as the larger stallion gained upon him much faster than he expected. Thinking quickly, he got back to his feet and contemplated a split-second decision... the stallion was large, and his momentum would likely be very hard to stop in a quick moment. Maybe he could turn his path back around, and dash past the stallion... maybe even kick the spotted whore into the sea itself on his way past.
He was sure if he could accomplish that, the large brute would be too preoccupied trying to pull her from the salty sea, and he could escape.. in his mind, it sounded like a solid plan, and so as the Solterran Warden approached, the lithe and much smaller stallion quickly turned and attempted to dart past him.
--------------------
Crimson eyes lit up as he watched the smaller stallion try and pull a quick one on him. But Tor, even large as he was, was no stupid giant.. and as the little cowardly snake tried to slip past him, Tor swung his head down and lurched himself slightly to the left.
The strangled cry that ripped from the other's throat brought a sick smile to the plum stallion's lips. Crimson, coppery blood sprayed down the crest of his neck as his razor-sharp crown of horns found perch, piercing the stallion's ribs underneath his elbow. Tor felt the other's chest hitch and a gurgled gasp oozed from his pained throat. Sweet honey to his tea.
And truth be told, Tor was quite surprised how small this stallion really was - right about Araxes' height and weight, if he was good at gauging. Thankfully, it made his decisions easy in the end.
The Warden's hooves had already skidded into the soft sand by now, slowing his traction as the muscles in his neck tightened and bunched, preparing themselves. Haunches slid underneath him and he gathered all his weight there, and then lurched his upper body into the air - the unnamed stallion still speared onto his horns. Neck strained, outstretched, and his head flung backwards - heaving the smaller stallion back over him and towards the cliff's walls.
--------------------
THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. SKIP DOWN TO THE GREEN TEXT IF YOU DISLIKE OR ARE MADE UNCOMFORTABLE BY GORE.
With a sickening thud as skin met rock and a splintering crack as ribs and bones shattered, the smaller stallion cried out. Ears had buried themselves back against his head in petrified fear, almost lost in the sweaty mess of his own mane. He had miscalculated his attempt at escape, and he already knew he was doomed - the larger stallion's rage and anger was more well known than he cared to admit.
Wide eyes stared up at the approaching stallion, blood pouring out of the gaping wound under his elbow and rib-cage. It had just barely missed his heart, those long tines - "Please!" came the pleading, his legs kicking into the sand as he tried to sidle away from the larger Warden, and press himself closer to the rocks. If he could meld with them, he would. "I wasn't going to kill her," he gasped, voice cracking, "I was just trying to scare her! A veiled threat!"
--------------------
Tor's war-worn hooves met the sand in a thump, and blood soaked the crest of his neck and crown of his head. It dripped down his forehead, stained his cream, mottled fur, leaked into his eyes. But unblinking they stared, gaze transfixed on the coward before him as he slowly turned to him. "Oh?" came the whisper, teeth gritting. "That's good, at least..." he trailed off, slowly approaching the stallion that lay slumped before him. His head lowered to eye-level with him, let the stallion stare into eyes the color of the blood that soaked the sand.
"But I'll ensure you never touch her again," came the whisper into the stallion's ear. In a split-second motion, Tor's teeth clasped around the tender little ear of his captive, biting down hard until he could feel the cartilage cracking. Head jerked away, and blood splattered onto his face as he ripped the thing clean off the stallion's head - eliciting a pain-filled, piercing scream into the air.
Spitting out the useless thing onto the sand, Tor's eyes boiled and he stared at the sobbing stallion. This little piece of shit was so ready, so sure of what he was doing... until the Warden arrived and he realized how deep the dog-shit hole he was buried in really was.
"SCREAM," came the roar; intimidating, fierce, raw. Tor's head swiftly tucked to his chest as he lurched forward, the tines of his horn pointed at a more deadly location. Into his throat and through his mouth they pierced, ripping through tender skin and muscle til they pierced through the other side. They may have missed the brain - Tor's intention - but oh, the damage they did was grievously mortal... although it was not nearly as swift a death as he knew the stallion wanted.
And scream the stallion did - it was painful, raw, fear-laced and primal. Tor felt a twinge in his gut - not of guilt, oh no not at all.. instead, the scream roused a primal lust within him. A lust for utter dominance, and Tor would be lying to himself if he didn't say that he felt arousal from it.
He felt the muscle yield, felt the blood from them spill out onto his horns and fully soak his head. He could hear the gurgle, so sickeningly sweet.. but he was not done with him, not yet. He would torture him like the maggot had tortured his little bird.. and he would die on this beach, staked to the wall for all to see.
Tilting his head to the left and following the momentum he was building, Tor swing his body in a circle with the stallion still pierced upon his tines. He came back around to the cliff wall again after having done a half-circle, and abruptly stopped - effectively flinging the stallion from his tines once again, blood splattering across his pelt and onto the wall from the stallion's split throat. The WHACK that resounded from him hitting the stone was bone-shattering, and a heaving gurgle lurched from the injured stallion's throat... Tor was no longer sure exactly which bones were breaking.
But by the time he was done, all of them would be.
And so he approached the stallion again, who stared at him with wild, rolling eyes but was no longer able to vocalize anything beyond gurgles and pitiful sobs. Tor saw the gaping hole in his neck, watched blood fill it and spill out, just as the tears streamed down his disgusting cheeks and flooding his swollen his eyes. Watched his bones crest out of his skin in splintered shards, his chest hitch and roll with his dying breaths.
The Warden's chest was heaving, and he was coated in blood. No longer could you see any remainder of the subtle shade of cream on his crest and neck, but instead it was now a vibrant shade of death - akin to the very color that boiled in his eyes. "You regret the decision, don't you?" came the seething whisper, ears pinning back to his bloodied mane as his head snaked down and towards the stallion. The stallion, who even on his death bead, tried desperately to move his broken legs and push himself further away from the encroaching Warden. "It's too late now, isn't it?" came the snarl, and his head lunged forward. It grasped the stallion at the throat, right at the edge of the wound, and within his teeth he grasped the broken, mangled skin, flesh, and muscle. And with a swift yank downwards, he ripped it even further, splitting his gullet, muscle and skin all the way from his throat down towards his chest.
The stallion's chest hitched and his body spasmed as a scream tried to pierce the air.. but all he got was a pitiful gurgle as blood swashed up his torn (and now fully exposed) esophagus and poured out, salting his wounds even further. "Pity," Tor spat, skin and flesh hanging between his teeth, "Your screams were almost as good as sex."
A large hoof pressed down on a foreleg, and the sickening snap elicited another lurch and spasm. "I should have broken them while you could still make any semblance of a sound other than a gurgle," he mused. The stallion was still conscious.. but for how long? That didn't stop him from breaking every fucking bone in his body. Hooves, now bloodied (and stains that would never be fully cleaned from within the splintered cracks) struck out and broke every bone in his leg and slashed his skin, eliciting sobs, gurgles, and more spasms. "Pity!" came the roar, as Tor's teeth found hold on the nape of his neck, holding the stallion still as a large, bloodied leg lifted further into the air. "I'd love to have heard your scream as I-" punctuated by the massive hoof slamming down on the middle of the stallion's back, followed by a sickening crunch as vertebrae gave way, "break the back of such a worthless maggot!"
The Warden watched the stallion's muscles spasm and seize, tighten and release. Some of the maggot's last blood poured out of his esophagus and onto his own chest and down the sand, soaking deep into the soil.. only to be washed away by the Terminus Sea. And as the stallion lay dying on the sands, Tor turned away.
On the ground beside him, as if waiting, was exactly what the plum stallion was looking for... a small but sturdy piece of driftwood. He manipulated the stout little piece, and turned back to the maggot that lay dying before him. Eyes of the smaller stallion rolled up to the Warden, still wide with fright even in his dying moments. "I'll say... I'm impressed you haven't already passed out," he mused, approaching him again. "But it's OK. I'll make sure you can't see what I've done to you," he purred, and swiftly stabbed the driftwood into the maggot's eyes. The smaller stallion's body lurched as Tor literally pulled each of his eyes from his sockets... leaving them to dangle down his cheekbones while never detaching the nerves. "Oops," came the chuckle. "Seems I'm no good at this, huh?"
And it was then that the maggot of a stallion, the coward piece of shit, heaved his last breath. Maybe the adrenaline had kept him alive for so long (such a sick torture... your body keeping you alive when it certainly knows you're going to die).. and Tor was quite thankful for the opportunity.
But he was not done, oh no. Even though the stallion was dead, Tor would ensure the Terminus did not sweep his body away. He did not deserve such peaceful ends.
--------------------
The Warden, his whole upper body drenched in blood from crown to hoof (and the rest of his hide splattered in it like some sort of morbid, modern abstract painting) instead turned, and surveyed the cliff-side. Blood red eyes camouflaged beneath the stained red of his fur saw, just above the water level, a few branches of a sturdy tree that had rooted itself in the cliff-side. A morbid smile twinged at the corner of his lips, and Tor stood underneath the tree. It was well within his reach, just at eye level... And so the Warden perched his blood-soaked hooves upon the cliff and fully stripped all the branches away from it, leaving nothing but the jagged trunks, which Tor quickly whittled into sharp points with his own teeth and help from the telekinesis.
When he was satisfied that the trunks were firm in their hold and sharp enough to pierce flesh, Tor returned back to the limp, crushed body of the maggot. Out of anger, a hoof struck out at his head, cracking the skull of a being who would no longer fight back. The lack of response was sickeningly dissatisfying, if he was honest..
But he would finish the job. And a mixture of simmering anger and adrenaline would help him perch the dead body on the crown of his head and his horns, and lift his body up to the trunks... and spear the maggot's rib-cage. There he would rest eternally, above the water-level that Terminus reached, for all to see as his broken legs and mangled body dangled - a warning.
And Tor stepped back, his rage simmering down from bloodlust and slowly ebbing into concern.
--------------------
ALL CONTENT BELOW IS SAFE. Summary of above: Tor tortured/killed the assailant, and then speared him onto sharp tree-trunks in the cliff-side for all those who pass by to see as a warning.
His eyes darted back towards the outcropping of rock where Araxes lay, and his chest tightened. She didn't seem to be moving.
And just like that, he rushed back over to her, his muzzle pressing into her bruised cheekbone. "My little bird," he whispered, warm breath on her skin - almost as warm as the other's blood that was now smearing her own fur.
"Little bird, can you stand?" He laid in front of her, chest still heaving as he nudged her, hoping dearly that she'd wake up. His mind rushed... he needed to get her back to someplace that could care for her. He wanted to bring her back to Solterra, but that was a week's trek in their state... but if he arrived at the Night Court looking like this, carrying a bruised and battered little bird, what would the bats think? The worst?
In all honesty.. she isn't sure what is what. The roar of the ocean behind her and the snarl of the storm in the distance that lit the sky up. It's a blur of noise and movement, enough so that she keeps her head down while every breath aches in her lungs and makes her very ribs and bones hurt. It seemed with every inhale, there was another exhale of water that was briny on her tongue, the saltwater making up more of her body than blood at this point. It felt so surreal and as if she were dreaming.
She didn't even lift her head.
Araxes was in a numb sort of shock, floating in a cocoon that wrapped her from the world as she trembled, soaked and broken. Everything swirled in and around her, and she felt as if she was simply watching things from afar. As if she were floating above her own body and looking down at it, or simply no longer in charge of moving her limbs at her will.
Every crackle of lightning brought the storm closer, until it was bearing down on them and the waves kicked up ferociously, slamming up on the rocks and over her lower half, attempting to coat her once more with the foams that had almost eaten her once before. Slate eyes blinked under the mass of white hair that curled around her, loose from its braid and seemingly alive with the wash of water every so often. The speckled mare didn't want to move, not the slightest inch, for even breathing ailed her and made her insides roil.
A touch seemed to at least bring her mind to some sort of reality, hot and warm against her otherwise cold cheek as the rain began to pelt downward in fat drops, washing away streaks of red that slipped against the alabaster bits of her fur. "...Tor..." It was a wistful little sigh, and the rain began to come down harder, the thunder loud as lightening struck, and even as she lifted her head, she didn't wince.
Something was terribly off when Araxes didn't flinch from a storm bearing down on them.
A single slate eye managed to peer between strands of ivory hair, the rest of her mane a mess around her head, wrapping her nape and face, the small wings with one at an awkward angle, giving small flicks of shaking movement.
Her breath gurgled in her throat, and Ara slowly lay her head down again, closing her eyes with another exhale, a shake of her body as her hind legs tucked up more to herself. She didn't even know that he had asked her a question.
****
"Mom!"
The cry wrenched out over the beach, a little odd under the sound of the storm, but a colt came running from around the corner, all long legs and long hair, eyes wide and his stance panicked. "Mom! Where are yo--- Dad?!" Cynix came to a halt in the sand, sending up grains as his hooves dragged, and he turned his head one way, then the other. From a bloodied stallion to his mother on the rocks, and his ears went back.
The young boy felt both of them clamp to his head, his wings suddenly just as tight as his head lifted, eyes going wide to the whites and nostrils flaring broad and pink. For a moment, he was too shocked to move, his posture tight and legs locked, though there was no quiver of fear. Not just yet.
@Torstein || my post is so fucking tiny compared to that monster LMFAO
The weather was wretched, but Sia couldn't lie - he loved it when the sky poured down upon them. His dark colored locks plastered against his speckled ivory skin, his braids heavy and his skin cold. But the mud! The mud was the best of all. It coated his shins as he and Cynix gallivanted about while the heavens cried.
But it wasn't the thunder nor the lightning that pulled his attention and drug it so sharply away from the wet ground at his hooves. It was a loud clamor - hooves on rock, shrieks, gritty conversation that were as rough as the sand on the beaches themselves.
And Siavax felt his stomach sink, felt his heart pull into his throat. Something wasn't right... and then he heard the bellows, the pained screams - the former coming from a voice he knew all too well.
Blue eyes met Cynix's red ones, and within a split second the darted away from the tops of the cliffs, and headed towards the winding path that led to the Terminus' beach below.
He wasn't ready for the red that streaked the sand, wasn't ready for the metallic, coppery smell of the crimson liquid that saturated the air and choked his nostrils. Nor the mangled body speared onto the cliff-side, eyes vacant and dead. Icey eyes darted between the body and the duo on the outcropping of rocks.
Mom.
"MOM!" came the shriek, and his hooves felt like wings beneath his body, peeling him away from the nauseating sight and whisking him towards his parents.
For a brief moment, dark thoughts crossed the young colt's mind... He ... dad.... did this to her, didn't he? But he mentally punched himself in the gut for daring to think such thoughts. Even if his father was a monster like others whispered he was....
If Siavax let those bitter thoughts fill his mind, how was he any better than those who judged him unfairly, a colt who had done nothing wrong?
01-23-2018, 11:04 PM
Played by
inkbone [PM] Posts: 75 — Threads: 5 Signos: 0
YOUR WORDS DRIP LIKE RANCID WINE. WHO KNEW SOMETHING ALREADY ROTTEN COULD ROT FURTHER.
His breath was caught in his throat as he stared at the helpless little bird before him, brow furrowed and set deep in worry. She was barely awake - how long had she been under? How long had the breath left her lungs before it forced its way back in?
So many thoughts raced through his bloody head that he scarcely heard his two sons approach. But he heard their exclamations, the connotations in their tone, and his skin prickled. Nerves along his back lit up like a wildfire, and the crimson-soaked crown whipped up and towards them. Red eyes, surrounded by dripping red, met the two bewildered pairs beside him.
There was a brief silence. He was a horrible father, and not good with words by any stretch of the imagination.
"Siavax, Cynix.." he murmered, his eyes softening, "Your mother needs a healer." The words breathless from his lips. She couldn't help herself now, and Torstein was left with the sour reminder that he had two options.
Trek a week away to the Day court and heal the little bird there - if she made it - or take her to the Night court and risk accusations.
Gentle eyes stared down at the mare at his knees, and then flitted to the incoming tide. It was angry and ravenous, and it threatened to swallow them whole, like it had done to her before.
His massive head dipped under her tiny one, gently coercing her head and neck to drape over his own. She felt cold and weak, and his heart hurt.
I'll ruin you. He had warned her.
His gut twisted, lips tightening into thin lines. "Boys, help me get your mother back to Denocte." This might seal his fate - who on earth would believe the Giant when he said he never touched a hair on her, especially when he was covered in sticky blood? But he would be damned if he left Araxes suffer on his watch. Damn what the bats think.
The snarl of the storm was a faded thing, thunder and lightning soft and muffled in her waterlogged ears. Every breath hurt, and she was barely aware of her two sons coming in to the fray.
The ocean lapped at her hindquarters, dragging tendrils of black hair out with it. Her tail seemed to come alive in the waters, waving like kelp on the surface. It kept her aware, somewhat, when she heard the talking, despite every breath burning out of her lungs and causing her chest to ache. Maybe it ached for more than the struggle for air, it was likely from bruising under the surface, and a broken rib or two. Every breath hurt, and every so often, there was a shiver that ran down her, her body's attempt to keep warm in some way, with the cold water leeching at what she had.
It took the touch to bring her around somewhat once more, her slate eyes opening and blinking. Touch, touch, touch, who is it? Hadn't Tor been there, and Sia, and Cyn? Yes, they had, she knew they had. Why was it hard to think? To breathe? To move? Araxes only moved when she was nudged, and she recognized the colors, the horns, she knew. Tor, once again, coming back to the forefront of her mind. As he moved her head, she attempted to follow suit with her body.
It was a struggle just to get her legs to move, aching muscles pulling as she scrambled on the rock. Each attempt caused her hooves to slip on the rock, and it took someone leaning against her to move her upward at last, to get her to stand, or at least attempt to stand. She leaned heavily on Tor, and on the other that was against her. One of their sons, no doubt, and she felt herself sink a little, her eyes closing again as she exhaled and coughed, her entire body wracking.
It was unnerving, horrifying, and Cynix felt nerves light up through his body as his hooves lifted and lowered. It was just a tapping on the rock below him, but it sounded like thunder in his ears, and his wings clamped down against his head in worry. His father was soaked in blood, and his mother was injured, and for all accounts to anyone walking in to the scene, it looked like Tor had been the one to injure her. The thought came, and it was brushed aside just as quickly as his ears snapped back. No, no. If he had done it, well, why would he want help for her, for one thing? For another, his father cared about his mother, in his own way, it was impossible that he could have actually harmed her like this.
Shaking his head as he watched his mother's attempt to stand, Cyn nudged at his twin, a butt of his head to a shoulder, before he was moving quickly to their mother's side. His weight pushed in against Araxes' side as she struggled, and he let her use him as a point to gather strength from. To lean against and find a way to stand properly.
"Will she be alright?" His question was aimed at his father, his worried eyes coming up to focus on Tor, emotions dancing behind irises and worry etching itself on his face. If his father was willing to risk going to Denocte, well... either way, it didn't seem good, and he could only feel the sick and heavy feeling in his belly, weighing down on his shoulders and drenching him in cold.
Quiet eyes met the worried eyes of his two sons, and he glanced back to Araxes, leaning tenderly - and nearly unconsciously - up against him. His heart hurt, thrummed and rattled behind the spines of his chest. "She'll be fine," he murmured, and nosed the soaked hair away from her eyes. Blood mingled with his own ivory flesh and her own. How fine she would be the longer that they took... well, that he did not know.
"Come hurry up, boys," their father chided them, and at a slow pace, they all set off for Denocte.
