asterion*
He had thought she was a wild, dangerous thing before, when she stalked in with blood on her pelt and lightning in her eyes. He sees now that he was wrong; somehow she has become more fearsome yet, her gaze so full of fire he forgets her eyes are blue. Asterion watches her horn sway like a mongoose watches the hood of a cobra even as he is mindful of all those gathered in the hall.
But her fury seems only for him.
Each word she speaks with the promise of blood and as bits of rug spark and burn with her lightning (flickers of flame he puts out with a thought, a gesture of his own magic) her voice rings in his heart like the toll of a war-bell. On and on, each short syllable until all his organs are rolling with it, shuddering like bedrock before a coming storm. Her breath is hot hot hot on his face and the tip of her horn is so close to the small star that marks his forehead -
She falls still, and Asterion does swallow in the deafening silence that follows, as if obeying her command. Before the fury of her he does not avert his gaze and he does not drop his head; even as she stands before him, immense in his heart and his vision with her words ringing in his heart, he thinks of each creature around them (staring, fearful, curious) and each outside the walls (shivering, hungry, fretful).
“First we must survive them,” he says.
If she is as still as a storm-eye then perhaps he is a gathering wave, somewhere well out beyond the shoreline where things gain strength in the dark.
Or maybe he’s just the boy he’s always been, only he’s found himself caught up in one of the stories he’d always wished for when he was just a colt along a shore, racing gulls and foam and clouds.
Before he can decide which the doors are burst open again, and all the strange storm-air seems to go out of the room and the voice of one of the Halcyon rings out.
“We need the king! Something has happened - we must see the king.” The pegasus and his companion are searching the faces, not yet frantic, still restrained.
Asterion turns toward them even as his gaze lingers on Calliope from the blood on her high cheekbone to the scar across her eye. So many words press like floodwaters against the dam of his teeth but he leaves them each unsaid; at last he tears his gaze away and goes to the horses at the door, to see what new thing is his to decide.
“I am here,” he tells them, and together they leave the uneasy peace of the hall.
@Calliope asterion out! <3
But her fury seems only for him.
Each word she speaks with the promise of blood and as bits of rug spark and burn with her lightning (flickers of flame he puts out with a thought, a gesture of his own magic) her voice rings in his heart like the toll of a war-bell. On and on, each short syllable until all his organs are rolling with it, shuddering like bedrock before a coming storm. Her breath is hot hot hot on his face and the tip of her horn is so close to the small star that marks his forehead -
She falls still, and Asterion does swallow in the deafening silence that follows, as if obeying her command. Before the fury of her he does not avert his gaze and he does not drop his head; even as she stands before him, immense in his heart and his vision with her words ringing in his heart, he thinks of each creature around them (staring, fearful, curious) and each outside the walls (shivering, hungry, fretful).
“First we must survive them,” he says.
If she is as still as a storm-eye then perhaps he is a gathering wave, somewhere well out beyond the shoreline where things gain strength in the dark.
Or maybe he’s just the boy he’s always been, only he’s found himself caught up in one of the stories he’d always wished for when he was just a colt along a shore, racing gulls and foam and clouds.
Before he can decide which the doors are burst open again, and all the strange storm-air seems to go out of the room and the voice of one of the Halcyon rings out.
“We need the king! Something has happened - we must see the king.” The pegasus and his companion are searching the faces, not yet frantic, still restrained.
Asterion turns toward them even as his gaze lingers on Calliope from the blood on her high cheekbone to the scar across her eye. So many words press like floodwaters against the dam of his teeth but he leaves them each unsaid; at last he tears his gaze away and goes to the horses at the door, to see what new thing is his to decide.
“I am here,” he tells them, and together they leave the uneasy peace of the hall.
@Calliope asterion out! <3
