Delzebub
Loiterer
- How can I s ℓ є є ρ at night...
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- He had heard stories of people drowning. How they had suffered before they had ceased be; clutching and suffocating in the dark depths of the unfamiliar, clawing for an escape back into the waking world they knew lie beyond the abyss. He had never been one to entertain the idea that he would suffer such a fate, that there were other means to which he might find his end; perhaps curled up next to his spouse in elder years in quiet contentment, or perhaps, within his mind’s eye, a colorful, romanticized portrait of the hero finding his end in the heat of battle — Fighting for what was most precious to him, and sacrificing himself for its preservation.
It was naïve to believe that death was staved off only by his desire to accomplish more within this world, and if Favian were here, he would have scolded him. Telian, he would have reminded, You have much growing up to do.
Intense panic set into his blood, which was already boiling from the heat that the water seemed to have adopted despite the chill of the night; a warmth that was less inviting as it was alarming… The heat of a passionate hate it was, and one that he could feel rising from the black beast that threatened to envelope him. His lungs burned with the very same fire, so much so that he swore he could feel them charring from within his ribcage, and he thrashed wildly about, fighting until the struggle began to leave him and his limbs became burdensome and sluggish; the air had left his lungs, replaced instead with the weight of water, which felt as thick as his own blood — His back forced against rocks by an angry current, pumping, pumping like a furious heart…
And then it faded. The darkness was drawn elsewhere, the over-whelming dread diverted. If he could hear anything but the muted melody of oncoming death from where he was submerged, he would have heard Faelon as he fought the creature above the surface of the riled waters. The only thing he did hear, though, was the sound of rushing water as he was pulled to the surface; and then, breaching the dark, Faelon’s own voice — A distant boom, but clear.
Get out of the water! Coughing and sputtering, he stumbled against the surface of grass and dirt, internally welcoming the reunion of earth and his own, but knowing better than to allow himself to settle — There was still danger near. His body worked desperately to clear his lungs of their unwanted fill, but his head lifted in time for widened, dark eyes to set upon the sight of Faelon from beneath the wrath of the beast.
Fight it. A voice inside of him urged. Kill it. But he could not manage the will to do so; he could not return, a weight keeping him centered with the comfortable earth. So desperately did he want to — The sight of Faelon’s struggle unbearable to his own eyes.
The hesitance, however, would luckily go unnoticed. Cyelena was quick to react in his stead, bounding above him in her mighty wolven form and hurling herself at the beast. With his breath caught as much as it was possible in those moments, he scrambled onto his feet and darted towards the embankment; seeking to immediately tend to his injured friend. But once he knelt by the crippled form of Faelon, he found himself face to face with yet another obstacle; he knew not how to tend to wounds, not like this, and while there was still a threat at hand. Frantic eyes took in the frightening sight of Faelon in pain, unable to organize the shaken impulses in his head. He was bleeding; the animal— Or demon, whatever the hell it was — Had torn through him with the white, glistening teeth he had caught moments earlier. In fact, just behind him, Cyelena and the water-horse had disappeared beneath the waves; he needed to be prepared if the horse re-emerged. He needed to… He needed to—
Remembering the process that he had assisted Faelon in during Cyelena’s treatment, he found excess fabric at the ends of his long tunic, and began to tear. “Tell me what to do,” His eyes pleaded, voice shaken with shame. What a fool he was; and yet so unfledged! Powerless and callow as a child lost in the midst of a crowded marketplace.
Behind them, the Kelpie had seen its end. It’s neck punctured by the fang of a wolf foreign in her own lands, she struggled and lashed out with teeth and hooves, the currents fiery and dark with her strife. Intruders, they were! These waters were hers. And as the life drew from its fighting spirit, the Kelpie shrank like the wax of a candle pooling quickly from within its holder, until all that remained was a nude woman, crying helplessly in a last attempt to deter her predator.
But this, too, was for naught. Her dark hair flowed around her like the black, oily blood that leaked from her neck, and her entire body fell limp. The wolf turning away, she dispersed into the water, flesh melting away into the current as she returned to her mother; one final breath drawn from the spirit, echoing a deep and resounding lament.
currently : A river, northern woodland; with Faelon and Cyelena. l theme l ooc:
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...There's a ω α я inside my head.
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...There's a ω α я inside my head.
