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 Posted: Tue Jun 09, 2015 8:42 pm
Neither creature moved.
Glowing orange met glaring yellow in a tense stare, and though both participants practically vibrated with anticipation, neither broke the stillness between them. The standoff with the lone wolf survivor grated on his nerves, especially as the little ivory and ebony feathered bundle swept completely out of sight, and even his ears couldn't accurately assess what was going on beyond the standstill. Verath ground his teeth, debating the merits of simply making a move to attack and be done with this, despite the danger still posed to him. With the thick, cloying scent of blood tainting the air so thoroughly, the dark stallion had no way of knowing if there were remnants of the pack still prowling the woods, although all of his senses denied that possibility with gusto. He trusted his ears and nose, but caution was wise, and neither he nor his charge could afford recklessness at this moment.
The sound of a snap, a yelp and a cry behind him, all frighteningly in tandem, made him stiffen, made him falter and glance backwards, and his enemy seized the opportunity to attack.
A deep roar pierced the tense forest's air as sharp canines locked onto his neck, and despite the brittle armor his scaly hide afforded him, those teeth sank deeply into tender flesh, and blood immediately welled to the surface. Smart little thing it was, its angle prevented him from reaching to pluck the wolf from his body with his own jaws, and although it hung limp and without leverage from where it gripped him, he could not dislodge it with wing or leg. He snarled, bucking and rearing as its claws scrabbled at his chest and withers, but began to wheeze as the pressure started to increase. Orange slitted eyes alighted on a nearby tree as anxiety began to make itself known, and out of other options, Verath charged, slamming his own body and the wolf's into unyielding wood, wincing as the jaws tightened involuntarily, and he tasted his own blood. There was a muffled cry, abruptly cut off, and a snap, and then it was over. The body slid limply down his front as he backed off, not pausing to assess the damage before he had turned tail and taken off at a canter towards where he had heard the commotion only a moment ago.
There was no thought to his steps after that, despite the bloody trail he was leaving behind him, the wheezing breaths that rattled in his chest, and the involuntary limp that hindered his pace. All senses were trained upon the suddenly stagnant air of the dropoff before him- one he barely noticed before he braked and skidded to a halt, just in time to watch the pitch and roll of two blurs drop off into empty space.
Gone, just like that.
For a moment, he simply stared at nothing, unmoving. Although dread had crawled its way through his belly, something familiar and heavy withering with the sound of a harsh impact, it was tempered by resignation, a cold distance in his want for this to be over, so he could curse himself for being foolish enough- again- to fall into this situation. So he could chalk this up to utter idiocy and resolve, once and for all, to disinvolve himself from any future misendeavors, and once and for all be justified in his violence and avoidance of others. He had known, after all, hadn't he? That this was the result of sentimentality. Of compassion. His brother had ensured that it was not a lesson easily forgotten, he recalled with a sneer- although it did seem to have been wasted on him. Foolishness, all of it.
And yet... some sense of tired sorrow was rising to the surface, and as he stepped up to the edge and peered down at the scene below, part of him expected to see golden scales... a taunting reminder of his failure. Instead, white, black and red dominated his vision, and while he cursed her a thousand kinds of foolish in his head for disobeying him, the clawing sense of guilt assaulted him without mercy. He had admired her bravery, and while he maintained that he held no responsibility for her well-being, especially after having found her in such a bedraggled state, he had given his word that he would get her to safety, and the broken oath burned unpleasantly. Anger warred with despondency for a moment before winning, making him growl and rage, but he said nothing, and began to make his way carefully down the steep incline of the ravine.
He could see her clearly now, sprawled upon the forest floor in a gracelessness that defied her usual posture. A heavy, frustrated sigh tinged with something dark rattled his lungs, and Verath shook his head... only to pause and stare incredulously as his eyes caught movement from the supposedly dead form in front of him.
...No, it wasn't his imagination, it appeared that Ophelia was alive and- against all odds- awake. He blinked slowly, realizing a moment later that he had abruptly stopped his slow limping walk, and forcibly resumed his trek towards her, a hard mask sliding into place over the rage that was still bubbling below the surface. He lowered his head to watch her move as he neared her, awake and at least somewhat alert, though he doubted it would be for very long in the state that she was in- if she even survived after this, it was rather miraculous she had lived through that fall at all. She didn't seem to realize he was there, blinking blearily and trying to assess her own injuries, and for the moment, he felt no need for words. Realizing after a moment that there was no way she could walk under her own steam, he paused to consider this with a wry twist of his mouth.
Well... dignity was leaving the building for the moment.
With a grunt of effort, Verath let his knees fold under him, easing himself onto the ground at the little bird's side, still silent and unspeaking. Gently, slowly, one tattered leathery wing slid beneath her limp body, pulling to lift her towards his back, although she was a tad too heavy for him to accomplish the task himself. "You've got to help me out with this, little bird, I can't do all the work myself."
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 3:07 am
It was difficult to gauge how long she laid there, dimly aware of the continued rhythms of her body despite everything she'd put it through. Some part of her still felt like it was suspended midair, caught in the act of free fall and waiting to crash back down to her splayed shape. It wasn't until the blood settling beneath her shifted that she staggered back into full consciousness, eyes flaring open again. The wolf was awake, was alive, had just been waiting for her to drift off so that it could finish what it had started. Except the creature was still where she'd last spied it, body shattered past the point of repair and utterly motionless. Her eyes rolled uneasily, straining until she spotted the splash of mottled black. Verath? She pried open her mouth, but her breath was too uneven to produce words, throat preoccupied by the simple task of swallowing air. Her jaws clicked shut when he pulled her toward him, body going taut as a bowstring.
He spoke, and the language didn't immediately make sense, only the familiarity of that damned nickname reacquainting her with her own native tongue. Ophelia watched him listlessly while she digested what it was he'd asked, half-wishing that he'd simply let her be. She was tired, more so than she'd ever been, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Just go, she willed him silently, no one has to know. Her stare hooked over the warm brand of his shoulder, passed and backtracked toward the mess of his neck. She had to blink several times before the sight came into focus, the blur of red resolving into long, ugly slits in the meat of his throat. An empathetic spasm ratcheted down her wing, the ghostly feel of teeth not so far in the past as to be forgotten. Ophelia sucked in a few shallow breaths, and something uncurled inside her. It pushed her back from where she'd been coasting along on surface level thoughts, the situation at hand enfolding her. He was hurt, bleeding where his scales had failed to deflect an attack. And she was just lying there.
Her muscles bunched up, but beyond that nothing happened. She made a rough, pinched noise and tried again, managing this time to lift her head slightly up off the ground. There she paused, sweating with effort and pain, before she used her good wing to lever herself up onto her stomach, her legs accommodating the move by clumsily gathering up beneath her. From there, she allowed her body to tip toward him, her snout falling into the junction where the leather of his wing met his back. Huddled against his side, she realized that he was warm like the sunlight she could no longer feel, too far down and steeped in blood for its rays to reach. She stayed like that for several moments, leeching his heat, letting it sink into her joints while she steeled herself.
Before she could lose her nerve, the filly hauled up her injured wing and slung it over his spine in one quick motion. The world tilted, and her stomach with it, only her empty belly saving her from retching. She gagged on air instead, eyes watering as her ribs revolted with every heave. If she were lucky, they were only bruised or cracked, rather than broken. Her wing, she noted, was another story entirely. It needed to be set, but she had little to no experience with triage. Still, even the prospect of being crippled paled in comparison to the wounds Verath bore, the way every indrawn breath whistled slightly. Once the urge to vomit left her, she worked her jaws slightly, tongue languid in the bottom of her mouth. "Okay?" she rasped.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2015 6:27 pm
Verath had a thousand things to say, though even he was unsure if they were angry or just vehement- but somehow could not give voice to them. She was a mess, they both were, and the urge to berate her for not listening to him, for putting them both in this position, rose and fell repeatedly, warring with the concern he had all but convinced himself he didn't have. One steady look at her bespectacled eyes, though, quelled any remaining desire he might have had to start something here and now.
Although the little mare was moving, cerulean eyes open and ears twitching, it was obvious that she wasn't all there, and his bones ached in reluctant sympathy at the hitched breaths and pained gasps that his ears caught. Unconsciously, he leaned closer, defensive instincts warring with the desire for rest, though his protection would do her little good now, when the most pressing danger was the threat of death from her injuries. Verath knew that he wasn't the picture of health either, with blood from his open throat and leg wounds pooling on the ground beneath them, but it would be a while before those became a bad enough problem to incapacitate him. She, on the other hand, needed a healer, and they both needed to vacate this place before some other predator smelled the blood and dead bodies, and figured them for an easy meal.
As Ophelia began to raise her head, draw herself closer with the pull of his wing, he felt one of her own feathered appendages sling weakly, haphazardly over his side, and finally he had the leverage he needed to get his own damaged wing the rest of the way beneath her, using it to lift her weight more securely onto his back, shifting his body so that she didn't immediately fall off again. It was a precarious position, with her awkwardly long legs dangling off of either side of his spine, but he used his folded wings to balance and hold the little feathered bundle in place, spreading them just enough to act as stabilizers.
"Okay," he murmured in answer, shifting her with what could be mistaken for gentleness, working to pull his weak and injured legs beneath the weight of his body. His own voice came out as a grating rasp, barely there, but audible to at least his own ears. Slowly, carefully and deliberately, he maneuvered himself onto his knees, biting back a low growl at the ache in his hind leg at the motion. The damaged leathery appendages at his sides spread a bit more on either side of the little bird to provide a better crutch, though they shook a bit with the effort as he lifted himself slowly onto his feet, trying not to jar her more than absolutely necessary.
It must have looked absurd, he thought with a barely audible snort, a dragon Soquili with an angeni filly on his back, both of them beaten bloody. If his brother could see him now... Verath curled his lip at the thought, stopping it there. They needed to find a healer, quickly- preferably a unicorn, and he had no idea where to start looking. He had lost his bearings after the chase and the fall, and while it wouldn't have been too hard to get back to where they were, logic dictated that they should probably steer clear of the wolf bodies and blood-soaked grounds, if they wanted to avoid further conflict. Moreover, while he knew where the nearest herd frequented, he couldn't say for sure whether any had healers of their own.
A soft sigh made the white-furred body atop his form rise and fall, and with another glance, gentler than he'd expect, the dark stallion started off towards the end of the forest's ravine with careful, but uneven steps.
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Posted: Tue Jul 14, 2015 7:36 pm
He hauled her up, and she twitched gamely in the direction he dictated, not eager to leave him alone in the task of settling her weight across his back. But she couldn't resist letting her body fall lax once Verath had managed to regain his feet, nothing even slightly regal in the way she let her head drop to rest against the curve of his neck. There was no mane, no fur to cushion her muzzle from the light drag of the plating here, but she couldn't bring herself to care. It would just be another soft bruise on top of countless others, and equally negligible. At least he was warm all over, radiating it against her tender belly until she felt less prone to being sick all over again. The muscles beneath her bunched as he turned to survey his charge, but she missed the look he favored her with as they began to move. Her good wing extended automatically after the first step, the tips of her pinions brushing against the leathery cradle his own wings made. Reassured by the stabilizing presence, it refolded into a loose bundle at her side, and she let her mind wander.
It was barely evening, though everything that had transpired between waking and now made it seem far later. How long could Verath walk before his wounds brought him low? One day, maybe two if he didn't attract any outside attention. Her expectations regarding her own survival were significantly less. She turned the prospect of death over in her mind like a puzzle, everything that went into it remote in her current condition. Blood lost, bones snapped, strength flagging - all of it factored into the bigger picture somewhere, if she could just decide where to begin. "Edges," she mumbled to herself, but it was hard to apply it to her own body.
It wasn't long before she fell into a doze, lulled by the placid pace and her own lightheadedness. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find herself upright and alone. Her feet startled of their own volition, and sent a cascade of small rocks clacking over one another, echoing loud in the space. Ophelia frowned and took in her surroundings, noting the strange shore on which she found herself. It was composed entirely of dark, loose stones as far as she could see in both directions. The sky above was a flat, featureless grey that seemed to swallow up any residual light. She had never seen the ocean, but Ophelia had heard enough secondhand that she would have recognized it on sight. This place had no water, no crashing waves or seabirds to speak of, but it contained some similar elements. A damp, briny scent pervaded everything, and slicked the bright pebbles underfoot.
The only other aspect was the mist that rose up in a wall several feet ahead of her, opaque and impenetrable. She watched the white tendrils of it twine and break, though they were perpetually in motion. If she squinted, she could make out the occasional image: a face, a silhouette, a stunted tree. Some shapes were familiar, others less so. After several minutes, she became aware that she was tracking the erratic pictograms with ease. She also realized that she did not hurt. A quick glance down confirmed her suspicions, and she lifted each leg to inspect them in detail, sniffing warily at her ankles. Her wings, too, unfurled without complaint, even when she flapped them hard enough to come up off the alien ground.
"Verath?" she called, her voice wavering slightly. Where was he? Where was she? This place was altogether too still, its veneer of tranquility blemished only by her presence and the ever-shifting faces in the mist. When she turned back to examine the wall, she was certain it was much less removed from her than it had been previously. Watching it confirmed that it was growing, padding on silent, pallid feet toward her. Ophelia shifted backwards, riding high on her own intuition as she spread her wings and yelled, "Verath!"
From her perch on Verath's back, Ophelia's mouth worked, her exhalations small and shallow against his armored spine. Her wings twitched, dreamlike, slow. A sigh escaped her, and ended in something like a hiccup, then stopped. No further breaths followed.
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Posted: Wed Jul 15, 2015 7:02 pm
Although he kept up a fairly grueling pace, even with the tiny but awkward burden cradled between his wings, the draconic stallion fought not to stumble as exhaustion set in, and the trail of blood that he was leaving in his wake began to slowly take its toll. Now, with the adrenaline gone, the deepest wounds upon his throat and hind leg had grown into an aching throb, the latter stabbing its way back to the forefront of his attention every time he misstepped. They would need to find shelter soon, a place for both of them to rest and begin to heal... but the little bird needed a healer, first and foremost, and Verath grudgingly admitted to himself that in order to find one, he would have to brave a bit of unknown and rely upon a stranger to help, shameful as that might have seemed.
Orange slitted pupils darted up towards the darkening sky with wary acceptance, and unconsciously, his heavy steps began to quicken as he considered the temperature drop that would befall them- no doubt it would exacerbate the issue of keeping his feathered charge healthy, if she had to contend with her injuries and the cold all at once. His own wounds were an afterthought- he had had far worse than this before, as his burnt and ruined wings and charred scales could attest to- and he didn't believe they were life-threatening, simply... well, more than an annoyance, he supposed. As if to punctuate that thought, a hacking cough produced a spray of blood and saliva that he spat onto the loose dirt beneath them, although Verath did little more than mutter to himself about its inconvenience rather than dredge up any real concern. He would survive, he always did.
A soft murmur from the vicinity of his back made an ear twitch back towards Ophelia, and while the word made him raise a brow in slight confusion, he didn't respond, assuming that she may have been a tad on the looser edge of reality at the moment. He wasn't terribly familiar with head injuries, as he'd had little cause to be involved with any sort of healing within his clan; he only knew that they could be dangerous and unpredictable, and should ideally be handled by an expert. Having arrived back at his original train of thought about the healer, the winged stallion sighed and changed course a little bit, hoping that his shortcut wouldn't lead them both back into dangerous territory- neither of them could afford another confrontation at the moment, loathe as he was to admit it.
After a few more minutes of stagnant silence, only broken here and there by grunts of effort or withheld pain, Verath came to an abrupt halt, almost forgetting to steady the weight on his back for the sudden inertia, eyes widening and ears twitching as cold realization slowly crept over him, drowning out the world for a brief moment.
She wasn't breathing.
Almost without thought, he let his legs fold beneath him, and the jarring of his knees hitting the hard-packed dirt of the forest floor aggravated his injuries, but he barely noticed in his haste, struggling to reach the smaller form nestled on his back without needing to crane his neck past the point of tearing open his own wound further. Growling, he angled himself so that her limp body slid off his side, and though he cushioned her slight fall with a wing, he was not gentle as he used the leathery appendage to roll her over, confirming silently to himself that there was no movement, no breath. For a moment, everything stopped and went cold for the second time in less than a few hours. He had fought, they had fought, she had managed to survive despite her perilous fall... and for what? Here she lay, possibly dead already, and he could still do nothing, short of rage at the world for placing him back here again... forcing him to witness this not even twice, but three times now. He could see perfectly the juxtaposition of a gold-scaled body in place of hers, but no longer was it his sole focus, and instead of remembered pain, a newer ache burned in its place- different, but the same. Instead of despair, rage filled him.
"Wake up!" he snarled, pushing harshly upon her still chest with a stiff wing. "I told you I'd take you across the river only if you kept up, little bird, so if you don't want me to leave you behind, you'd damn well better wake up!" Frustrated beyond words and reason, he half-growled, half-roared, and struck with little force at her back, some distant memory of a drowning victim coughing up water and resuming breathing after that maneuver crossing his mind. It didn't work, and his frenzy only increased as panic began to make its way through the haze, outweighing the dread that had crept back in under his guard, but mixing solvently with the rising anger at being back here, in this position again. Watching someone he cared about die, again. Rage made him stupid, made him careless- but in this case, it made him persistent, and he struck again, not quite hard enough to bruise, but with progressively more force as she continued to be non-responsive. His own breaths began to rasp and burn, blood coating the inside of his mouth, but another, long-forgotten pain burned through him and drowned out everything else.
"WAKE. UP!"
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Posted: Wed Jul 15, 2015 8:09 pm
 Arcadius grumbled to himself as he meandered his way through the dense brush, well off the beaten path through the forest and cursing himself for following the directions that stupid rabbit had given him. Darkness was quickly spreading over the horizon, and though he could see a clearing up ahead, he could already tell he was nowhere near where he had wanted to end up, and he would need to find a place to sleep, soon. The temperature was dropping with the fading sunlight, and unbidden, a yawn cracked his jaw as his pace began to slow- though it was more from relaxation than fatigue.
It had been a good long while since he had seen any social interaction- besides Vodka anyway- though he had enjoyed his short stay with Hakan before that, and despite himself, he was beginning to seriously consider staying with them on at least a semi-permanent basis. They were a kind and welcoming bunch, not at all put off by his oddities, need to consume meat and his standoffish demeanor, and they were clearly short on help in some areas. Certainly deserving of support, but the unicorn stallion just wasn't entirely sure he was ready to settle yet, even if it was only temporary. While he didn't necessarily enjoy being a wanderer, it afforded him a certain freedom he wasn't quite willing to give up just now. Outwardly, he shrugged, tabling the idea for now- it wasn't like anyone was pressuring him to make a decision about it anytime soon.
There were more important concerns to be handled for now, anyway. Like finding his way through this damn forest.
A shout from up ahead made the taciturn male freeze, ears straining forward and cerulean hues wide as he tried to determine exactly what it was, and whether he should be heading the other way or not. When nothing followed for another tense few moments, he took a cautious step forward, but halted again as another yell broke the silence, and this time, he could identify it as a male voice, though he was unable to discern what was being said. It sounded angry, harsh... but more than that, it was tinged with desperation, and it was that above all else that drove Arcadius forward, despite the possible imminent danger of walking into an unknown situation. He wasn't one to run from the unknown, or even a fight at times, and if he could help with whatever was happening, it would be worth it, regardless.
Breaking into a canter, the blue stallion shouldered past the thick foliage, ducking underneath some persistent branches and earning a snap of annoyance from his carnivorous plant freeloaders, but rather than rebuke them, he simply grunted and kept his attention focused on the task at hand.
Finally breaking through the treeline that hindered his vision, the unicorn stumbled to a stunned halt, not quite sure how to process exactly what he was seeing. His first instinct was to assume, with the blood-soaked appearances of both the angeni filly and the half-kalona stallion, that it was feeding time, and the filly had been the unfortunate victim- but before he could muster enough outrage to leap to her defense, it became quickly apparent that despite the fact that he looked almost feral, crazed, the mutant stallion was trying to revive the little foal, uneducated though his efforts may have been. Arcadius winced in pained sympathy as a leathery wing struck fruitlessly at her limp back, and after regaining his wits enough to decide on a course of action, he darted forward to help her without another thought.
Perhaps not the wisest course of action, he reluctantly admitted to himself, to dive in without saying anything, as he was greeted with a vicious snarl and a threatening snap of a very large set of teeth inches from his own muzzle.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he took an unsteady step backwards, almost tripping in his haste, and narrowed his eyes at the crazed stallion. "Easy, Jaws. I can help her, if that's what you were trying to do," he said slowly, knowing better than to make assumptions, though he could clearly see that this being at least meant the filly no harm, that didn't mean the same for himself. "Let me help her," his own tone was imploring, though his own panic was beginning to rise as it became clear, even from this distance, that she wasn't breathing, and every second that he wasted could mean the difference between life and death. "You were trying to save her, right? I'm a unicorn, a healer, let me help!" the tail end of his plea became a demand, desperate as he was to get past the dark wall of scaled muscle that blocked his way so he could prevent a young life from slipping into oblivion.
He didn't pay attention to the dragon-like Soquili's reaction or expression, only focusing his attention forward once that imposing barrier stepped reluctantly out of the way, after a moment of deliberation and mistrust, and he lunged forward to join the small foal on the ground, tucking his legs under him. His horn alit with healing energy, and he touched it ever so gently to her still form- not familiar enough with this to be skilled, but enough to be effective. "C'mon, little one..." he muttered quietly, closing his eyes as he worked, his concentration entirely on her, though he could hear her... bodyguard, he supposed, pacing restlessly behind him, unwilling to disinvolve himself entirely. "You need to wake up, so you can tell me how you tamed yourself a dragon," he said in good humor. "That's quite the protector you have, there. Come on, little one, breathe."
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 1:48 am
The mist billowed upright, forming a milky crescent that fanned out on either side of her, its maneuvers swift and vaguely ominous. Closing off the exit, Ophelia realized with a catch in her chest. There was no doubt in her mind that it aimed to overtake her, all that energy pent up behind an invisible wall now unleashed with a purpose. She spun in a whirl of feathers and fled, the white bank rolling after her, solemn and thick as a thunderhead. Puffs of chill air on her heels warned her that she needed to be faster even as her hooves skidded on loose turf, the individual pebbles scattering like glossy mice. There was a noise to it, now, a dull pounding that radiated from every direction at once. It filled her head until she was forced to match her steps to it, the beat pushing up behind her eyes as though it intended to eject them from their sockets. She sealed them in place with her eyelids, ran blind through those sunless plains with only the amorphous threat at her back to goad her into motion.
But she wasn't swift enough, wasn't strong enough, and the mist twined up her flanks with translucent fingers. It etched crackling frost patterns on the knobs of her spine, traced delicate icicles in the inlet where her legs met her hips. Her eyes shot open again, panicked gaze scouring earth and sky for some potential escape. The sheer uniformity of the place glowered back at her, colorless and unmoved by her plight. A bleak feeling began to spiral through her, piercing soft innards like a lance. There would be no opportunity to break away, not going forward. Whatever exit she'd imagined, it was out of her reach. Now she could only retreat, and that meant surrendering to the mist that engulfed her inch by steady inch.
Her movements began to slow of their own accord, limbs grown heavy and ungainly with cold. The mist surged up in reply, binding across her belly, grabbing hanks of her mane and tugging. She felt it close over her chest in crystal-thin stems, and she brought her chin up away from it without thinking. A disparity among the infinite grey snagged her attention then, and she frowned as she struggled to focus on it. There was an object rooted in the rocks, slight and wilted, but still remarkable by comparison. Green, her mind offered after a few stuttered attempts, it was green, whatever she was seeing. The shape of it was ill-defined yet, but if she could just make herself move...
You will keep up, or I... can't do all the work myself... only if you kept up, little bird...
With a snort of barely warm air, she aimed her body toward that break in reality, fighting the drag of the mist on her legs every step of the way. When she came close enough, she saw that it was a plant, some slip of a seedling that had managed to sprout despite the inhospitable conditions. The nearer she drew, the more vibrant it appeared, and the unfeeling wall behind her rippled as it was checked by a thermal current. Her steps became easier, less of a drain on her remaining senses. A tinkling sound reached her ears, and though she didn't dare risk looking away from her goal, she knew it was the drifts of ice shedding from her like a second skin.
When she was within range, Ophelia lunged at that thin stalk, jaws parted to catch it. But her teeth clicked shut on nothing, and she pitched forward further than she'd expected, head over heels and suddenly scrabbling for purchase. She was falling, and a flash of lightning lit the thrashing boughs of the trees below, blue-green and unsettled as the sea. She was falling, and the cliff's grey face was interrupted by bands of glittering ore that matched the wolf's pelt. She was falling, and-
Breathe.
Ophelia gasped, her lean frame rising off the ground from the force of it. Pain surfaced with consciousness, though it seemed somehow muted, the burn of it tempered into a bearable heat. Her eyes cracked open when she became aware that they were closed, blown pupils circling until they landed on the stallion at her side. A unicorn, she gathered fuzzily, with his head bent toward her. The ragged tip of his horn pressed lightly against her flesh, and she felt something warm and gentle flowing into her from that point of contact. It made the disparate edges of her wounds pull towards each other, threads of new skin bridging the larger gaps. Her broken wing tingled, running hot compared to the rest of her as it was treated to a more concentrated dose of healing magic.
Gratitude brimmed and spilled over down her cheeks, water she could scarcely spare leaking into packed earth. Her throat was parched, tongue incapable of moving deftly enough to form words as simple as a thank you. With her face heating at the obvious show of frailty, she averted her gaze in hopes of locating a more neutral sight. But instead she found it latching onto a familiar face, and any residual embarrassment was swept away by a potent flood of relief. Verath. He hadn't made good on his warning, then.
Her vision blurred again, and she blinked hard to clear it. Stop, she berated herself, pay attention. The sucking wound at his throat looked worse than she remembered, the play of shadow over it highlighting torn shreds of flesh and the path his blood had taken. Ophelia turned back to the healer, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to form an entreaty. Why was it so hard to speak? Her lungs felt like they were lined with lead, and the frustration of it all left her half-burrowed in the dirt.
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2015 7:35 pm
Verath was beyond anger as he stalked the dirt behind the two prone forms sprawled unceremoniously on the dirt and leaves, legs stiff with pressure and pain, though he acknowledged reluctantly that it was panic that drove the frenzied flick of his tail and the agitated vibration of his wings. He glared at the form of the unfamiliar Soquili actively healing his charge, still mistrustful despite his eagerness to help- no doubt he would want something in return, and Verath had no qualms with killing him if he became a threat... though he did acknowledge that perhaps a payment was fair, if he did manage to back up his claims of being able to help the little bird. If he didn't... well, the dark winged stallion wasn't known for suffering liars, no matter what his reputation had been in the past.
Snarling in aggravated helplessness, he turned on his haunches and strode determinedly towards the forest's edge, resolving that if he could kill something, the unbearable weight in the air might lessen just a bit- but he was unable to bring himself to actually leave, and resisted the urge to roar in frustration. Resuming his crazed pacing, this time not fighting the compulsion to flap his useless wings in pent up anxiousness, he suddenly froze as orange hues caught a whisper of movement behind the hulking form of the unicorn stallion, and stood absolutely stock still until the sliver of life came again, clearly this time.
A breath.
Although Verath might have refused to acknowledge it as weakness, the sudden rush of tension evaporating from his body left a slight tremor in his stance, a breath of air that was not relief falling from parted lips as bespectacled, open, alive azure eyes trained themselves on him, over the rigid shoulder of the cerulean unicorn. He allowed himself to return that stare, though his stern expression gave little away, and after a moment, his eyes lefts hers as he swept his gaze appraisingly over the other stallion's work in assurance that she was indeed being healed. He struggled to keep his countenance level for Ophelia's benefit, but what exactly he was suppressing, even he was not entirely sure.
Despite himself, the draconic Soquili felt a wave of unwelcome grief intermingled with the reprieve that made him waver, focusing intently on the wounds that were slowly closing under the unicorn's care... his pride had almost cost her her life, and he wondered absently if he was doomed to make that mistake, over and over, after the loss he had suffered so long ago. The familiar guilt which had lurked beneath the surface for years after his exile was beginning to surface in a way that he had never allowed before, unwillingly and against every defense he had successfully erected before this little bird's arrival... and while his pride raged at it, he was beginning to tire of constantly warring with what struggled to emerge. Would it be so terrible, to permit an attachment, to simply let the small bundle of fur and feathers gravitate towards him, as she seemed so determined to do? Audibly, he snorted, but internally... he wondered.
His musings were cut short as orange met blue once again, and he was hard-pressed to ignore the sheen of tears that he could see welling up in those young eyes. Involuntarily, he softened, although he couldn't do anything except look away, unable to acknowledge or comfort her anguish. Once upon a time, he had been good with children and adolescents, indulging them with warmth and sometimes play, though it was rare. Somehow, Verath could not reconcile Ophelia as a child, with the deceptive age and maturity behind her eyes, but the abrupt loss of control over the emotions that she held aloft so steadily in his presence made it impossible to overlook her youth. He could do nothing for her, except remain the steadfast anchor that she seemed to cling to... and perhaps that was enough.
Resolved, he met her teary eyes once more, saying nothing, though a small kindling of what might have been warmth and reassurance flickered behind his eyes.
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2015 8:24 pm
"That's it! Good girl! Breathe with me now, come on."
Arcadius let out a long, relieved breath as he felt his patient begin to gasp and stir, then breathe more normally, letting out an airy chuckle to calm his own nerves as he continued his work, though he was careful to be unfathomably gentle with her. Admittedly, it was not entirely for her own benefit, as he was reasonably sure her protector might take a sizable chunk out of him if he wasn't cautious- he'd certainly shown no qualms in the prospect of harming him to protect her, if he felt him a threat. Still, the softness that steadied his movements was borne largely from care and compassion, and he smiled slightly as her eyes fluttered and blinked open, humming softly in an attempt to calm her.
"Hello there, little one. You gave us a bit of a scare for a moment," he murmured, careful to keep his voice low so as not to startle her, though he reasoned that he didn't exactly fancy being overheard by her would-be bodyguard, either. Somehow, the unicorn stallion doubted that the imposing halfbreed kalona would appreciate being lumped in with that statement... he didn't seem the type to take well to the implication that he may have been frightened by anything. Even though... a brief glance at 'Jaws' confirmed his suspicions that there was at least some form of attachment there, no matter how either party might have wanted to pretend it didn't exist. He almost snorted at the stubborn countenance of the older Soquili, but held his tongue- better to disinvolve himself, lest he lose a limb for speaking up.
The sound of a sniffle made both of his ears twitch to attention as Arcadius directed his focus back to his small patient, eyes widening in alarm and sympathy at the sight of her tears, though he could see she was trying valiantly to hold them back. "Hey now, it's okay..." he murmured softly, crooning in what he hoped was a calming manner, though the glow of his horn didn't dim for a moment as her wounds continued to slowly knit themselves closed. She was out of the danger zone, but no doubt still in pain, but the breakdown seemed more a matter of being overwhelmed than being injured. "You're okay, you're here with me." He smiled disarmingly, willing his carnivorous plant parasites to stay out of sight and buried in his mane so he wouldn't look as threatening. The blood and bones he could do nothing about, but at least they wouldn't try to bite passerbys.
He wiggled himself a bit closer to share the warmth of his body heat, knowing that the rapidly dropping temperature coupled with her blood loss might be chilling her, but the shock was more likely to achieve that when the adrenaline began to fade. It couldn't be helping her frazzled emotional state, but there was little he could do to help her sort it out- callous as it seemed, he was reasonably sure she needed the release, and he could do little but offer her a spot of reassurance.
He felt her attention leave him and focus on her older companion, and unbidden, curiosity rose to the surface of his thoughts. They made an unlikely pair, to be certain, and he wondered exactly how they had come to be... well, as they were, which was still unclear. There was at least a small amount of attachment there, and Arcadius felt himself soften a bit more as her tears came faster at the sight of her overly large shadow. There was no sound from behind him, but he imagined they were sharing a look, and he suppressed the urge to sigh as it became clear that the dragon-like stallion was not going to offer the comfort that he should at this moment. Maybe he was too proud, maybe he didn't know how... but as strong as the filly might be, she needed a distraction at this moment. Well, it was one he was happy to provide.
Unable to nose her without dislodging his horn and disrupting his work, the azure unicorn spoke again, pointedly trying to draw her attention back towards himself.
"My name is Arcadius. What's yours?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 12:14 am
It took a while for her breath to stop hitching, the blood that rimmed her nostrils drying and flaking away. She tried to will her body to relax, but the non-responsive quality to her limbs sent her thoughts spiraling tighter and deeper, all ice and fear. Why did she feel like this? And how had she ended up on the ground in the first place? Last she knew, Verath's wings had been extended around her, a cocoon of moth-worn safety. But there had been something else, too, things that her mind skirted around. If she strained toward it, she could pick out a few details: some half-remembered mist, the sole shoot of green in a place not built to host it. Her heartbeat over-loud in the confines of her own skull. Ophelia let the vague shape of it go, not curious enough to overcome the way her innards coiled and thrashed when she probed, slick as eels.
A voice murmured nearby, gentle and reassuring and far removed from the way that Verath tended to address her. The unicorn's words were meant for her ears alone, cast soft and repetitive so that she could tune in at any time and still catch what was being said. Her ears fetched toward that source of comfort, letting it pour over her as an accompaniment to the healing magic. But she kept her sights locked on Verath, watching him for cues. Worry crested each new swell of tangled feeling, his condition visibly unsettling. Yet he seemed steady, vigilant as he stood just out of range. Except his stare kept flitting away from her, reluctant to engage for any length of time. He hadn't spoken, either, not so much as a snarl of rebuke for her failure to keep pace. Ophelia almost would have preferred that to the silence, the way he couldn't hold her gaze through the saltwater blur.
The healer shifting nearer drew her notice, the warmth of his side when it pressed more securely into her providing an unexpected respite from the hard-packed chill of the earth. She moved slightly as well, awkward still as she nestled into his accommodating form, too tired to be wary of his intentions or the point of his horn on her skin. Someone so invested in her survival was unlikely to mean her harm, and Verath hovered close enough to bolster that conviction. She could only speculate on the conversation that had passed between them while she'd been... whatever it was she had been. Ophelia tiptoed around the maw of that particular abyss, unwilling to examine the implications so quick on the heels of her escape. Hysteria sat banked along the edges of her awareness, a prismatic blaze that threatened to consume. One good shove would set her alight.
Finally, Verath's sunbright stare landed and stayed. Where she'd anticipated annoyance, even disgust, Ophelia saw a strange tenderness unfurling in the depths of his expression. Her moon-pale brow dipped, honest confusion a strong current beneath the concern. He should have been angry, at the very least. Everything he'd done, every pain he'd suffered, was on her. If he hadn't divided his attention between her and the wolves, he may have ended the battle unscathed. Then to have to carry her all this way, to be forced to relent and ask others for assistance, all the while wearing evidence of her ineptitude in a bloodied collar around his neck. This time, she was the one to look away first.
A name dropped like honey in her ear, and she turned to catch it, glad for the excuse. Arcadius. If she angled her head, she could see something slithering beneath the cascade of his mane, a whisper of green that might have been pure imagination. The telltale splotches of red on his coat, however, were not, nor was the jut of bone through flesh along his spine. Was that her blood? Or had he been injured as well? He seemed indifferent to it, whatever the source.
Her jaw worked faintly, and she breathed deep, letting her lungs expand fully for the first time since she'd woken. "Ophelia," she said at last, the syllables juddering slightly from strain. A shiver racked her frame, and she squeezed her eyes shut until it passed. "I... Thank you. I'm all right." Most of the minor injuries had vanished, her bruises drained back into her bloodstream. Only the hurt in her chest and wing remained, and they were bearable. "I'm all right," she repeated a little more firmly, even if she couldn't quite stop a fresh wave of tears from tracking down her filthy cheeks. "If you could help Verath? Please?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 8:40 pm
Shut off as he might have been from any empathy, Verath could nonetheless sense the rising hysteria that plagued his young charge, the turbulent emotions that afflicted her surging and falling like the ebb and flow of a tide, and wished to himself that he had the calm to allay her terror. Her tears, while they slowed, did not subside completely, but her gaze tore itself from his after a moment of his attempted offer of silent reassurance, and the draconic stallion visibly started as he was brought back to the stark reality of his moment of discomposure. Warmth and attachment... they were weaknesses he could ill-afford, and the vivid reminder had him tucking his wings tightly to his sides in consternation and bitterness, directing his eyes towards the distant sky that was quickly darkening with the night's approach.
With the last vestiges of adrenaline fleeing on the errant winds of panic that had brought them, the blood loss was beginning to dull his senses, and the sunset stare that had followed the little bird moments ago blurred momentarily, the landscape before him warping into a grey jumble for a grating instant. A few blinks, along with an obstinate huff, cleared the haze that was threatening to settle around him, but Verath could feel his stance weakening in the absence of any immediate need for strength now that the danger had passed. Incensed, he scowled darkly at the thought of revealing any such frailty to the angeni filly or their yet-to-be-endorsed healer, already devising ways in which he could make himself scarce before evidence of his current state of vulnerability could draw attention... but leaving them alone, or at least leaving Ophelia alone at this moment, was far less appealing than it may once have seemed.
While there was a slight sway to his posture, barely noticeable, the mutant stallion held himself stubbornly rigid against the steadily rising desire to relax, ears twitching forward to catch bits and pieces of the words being spoken, some carried away by the wind entirely. He caught snippets of the encouragement and reassurance being offered to the little bird by the healer, and his mouth twisted in silent dissatisfaction at his own inability to provide anything constructive. The thought was dismissed immediately, but the next words that he caught would have cleared his mind of any prior concerns or annoyances instantaneously, anyway.
It was a pleading request for the healer to turn his attention on him. Ordinarily, he would be outraged at the proposal for insinuating weakness, but for a short moment he was caught up in the surprise that there was care for his well-being in consideration at all. He was aware that compassion existed outside of the illusion that he had once constructed within his homeland, but that any of it may be directed towards him was a thought that he could barely entertain, much less comprehend. In the end, pride won out over incredulity, but there was a tiny bit of gratitude buried beneath the affronted reaction that lingered despite his misgivings. Regardless, his response was willfully recalcitrant in his rejection of the idea.
A low growl surfaced in his chest and worked its way up through his injured throat, loud enough to be heard, but not so much as to be misconstrued as an active threat- it was both a reprimand to his charge for the suggestion and a warning to the healer that appeared to be considering it. It was abhorrent enough that both had to witness him in this condition to begin with- he would not accept help from a stranger, no matter how well-intentioned the gesture or how earnest the offer. They still had little to no proof that this unicorn would not demand some sort of recompense for his troubles, and for Verath to prostrate himself to be healed when there might still be a threat afoot was absurd. That horn could be dangerous just as soon as advantageous, and while he was reasonably sure by now that the bloodied stallion meant no harm to Ophelia, it did not necessarily mean he wouldn't take the opportunity to rid the world of a predator like himself. Perhaps he would consider it a sacred duty, he thought with a snort, considering some of the obstinate convictions he'd seen influence many a questionable decision- most of them thinking that they were doing 'what is right for the world'.
They weren't necessarily wrong, however... perhaps a world without his ilk would have far less blood and death, but that was no decision an individual should be allowed to make.
Point made, Verath turned his mulish countenance back towards what he could see of the setting sun, taking a bit of comfort in the fading light, despite how the descending cold seemed to bring greater stiffness to his limbs, and heralded a difficult, if not painful night to come. He would endure as he always did, and the world would continue to turn as it always had. The little bird's concern, while admirable in her current state and unexpected for one such as him, was inconsequential, and the sooner he could safely deliver her to the herd on the other side of the river, the better off the both of them would be.
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Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 10:08 pm
Despite the gravity of the situation and the tensions still running high between his two most recently-made acquaintances, Arcadius found himself grateful that he had stumbled upon this odd setting, if only for the opportunity that he had to help. He found himself taking a sincere and immediate liking to the small filly, with her apparent maturity and consideration, even with the frenzy that she was attempting to prevent herself from working into. He could tell that panic and hysteria lurked just beneath the surface, and was, for once, at a loss. Wizened though he was to some situations of extreme peril, this wasn't one he'd encountered before, and the azure unicorn stallion found himself floundering.
In the end, he reached for flippancy, hoping that the normality of a simple conversation would draw her away from the desire to sink into her fear. He had often found that meaningless thoughts were the most calming, though he usually had little desire to engage in small talk or insignificant conversation with strangers- mostly, he kept his musings to himself. He hoped that he could provide enough of a distraction that she didn't feel the need to dwell on her experience, such as it was, at least for the moment- the shock was finally wearing off, but he supposed it was taking longer for the reality of the situation to sink in.
"Nice to meet you, Ophelia."
Her pleading request, while it tugged on his heartstrings, brought with it a creeping trepidation, and his reluctance was only solidified at the answering growl he could hear from- Verath, was it?- at the suggestion. "I don't think he wants my help, Ophelia." His eyes cut over to the injured, but still imposing form that stood rigidly some distance away, as if ready to pounce on him if he dared show any signs of aggression towards either of them. He snorted at the thought, but didn't give voice to his incredulity at the consideration- he supposed he was still a stranger, after all, and he could hardly blame the mutant stallion for erring on the side of caution, after the state they'd ended up in. He turned his eyes back towards the filly with a small smile, attempting for levity in the face of his denial, and he privately hoped for her sake that the stallion wouldn't end up on the wrong side of disaster for this decision. "No offense, little one, but I'd rather brave your ire than his."
He knew it would be of little comfort, but he gently nosed away a stray tear from her small cheek and hummed softly, but didn't pause in his work, returning his horn to the bedraggled mess that was her wing without preamble. "Besides, I'd rather have you in flying condition sooner than later, in case you have to outrun a dragon," he waggled his eyebrows for exaggerated effect, hoping to at least coax a smile out of her, despite her stoic company. Truthfully, he didn't know if the joking statement held any water or not- the two didn't seem to have an antagonistic relationship, but what was visible on the surface wasn't always indicative of what was actually going on. Whether or not the draconic male would actually explode on her or resort to violence in her presence... he didn't exactly want to consider it, but it wouldn't do to leave her helpless, in any case.
Attempting to avoid the arguments that he could sense were already rising to her tongue, he reached quickly for a change of subject, keeping his tone deceptively lighthearted. "How did the two of you meet? You seem like a bit of an unlikely duo." That was an understatement, to say the least- nothing about the two was remotely similar, from stature to breed, and Arcadius was genuinely curious about what might have facilitated their meeting. He sincerely hoped it was nothing like a kidnapping- if this... attachment was some bizarre form of Stockholm syndrome, he would be obligated to intervene, but even injured, he probably wouldn't stand a chance against the hulking dragon that lurked behind him.
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Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:39 pm
The growl from Verath's corner failed to faze her, so accustomed to the sound being made on her behalf that she'd almost ceased to hear the menace thrumming in it. And when, she wondered, had that become their standard? But Arcadius' gentle refusal caught her already unbalanced, even if he padded it with humor. Ophelia fell silent at the rejection, afraid to give voice to the distress pulsing between her battered ribs. If she spoke again now, the errant shards in her might severe the last of her tethers completely; and as she'd recently discovered, there was no limit on how far one could fall. His caution wasn't without basis, however, and she knew it. Unless Verath stopped acting every inch the carnivore he was, her words were unlikely to find much traction with the healer.
She worried at her lower lip until fresh copper invaded her mouth, felt the magic still swarming through her in firefly drifts redirect to knit it instantly. Pushing either of them might result in further denial, and Ophelia had no desire to use her youth in an attempt to compel a different answer. If she let the matter rest, perhaps it could be taken up again when she felt a little less shaken and could better present her case. Verath might be more reasonable once he saw her wounds diminished to the point of invisibility. Or he might seize the chance to leave, having delivered her into the presence of someone more suited to the task of babysitting. A frisson of panic chased the revelation up her throat, catching on clenched teeth. She couldn't allow that to happen, at least not in his current condition. Beyond that, Ophelia had to acknowledge that she had no say in what he did next.
Light contact to her face made her startle slightly, having missed the lead up. Arcadius again, tactile and soothing in his ministrations, even with the bloody smear his muzzle added to her cheek. She'd nearly forgotten her tears until that moment, still cleaving wet trails down her face. How humiliating to be so out of control, reduced to a state that she would have pitied in another. Her eyes felt hot and swollen, unused to the outpouring. Ophelia gave a few rapid blinks, trying to wring the last of the water out for everyone's benefit.
Arcadius continued to speak to her, and she listened while sinking further into the unfamiliar planes of him, mind buzzing fitfully even at rest. The urge to twitch her wing and see how far along the regeneration process was came and went, not about to compromise all the work that had already gone into it. She'd never seen a unicorn's craft practiced up-close before, and the still rational parts of her wished that she could watch this without the haze of pain and embarrassment detracting from the experience. Her father's side of the family may have worn similar horns, but she knew none of whom practiced the art in earnest.
The latter comment drew a blank stare from the filly, uncertain what he was implying. Dragon? Her gaze flicked to Verath to see if he might provide some clue, and her expression abruptly smoothed. In the harsh, scaled silhouette of him she found her answer, the comparison rather obvious in retrospect. He did look the part, at least to a point. Winged, serpentine, his coat twined smoke and open flame. But the stipulation had been that she keep up, not outpace him. Ophelia was certain of that much, even if other details remained fuzzy.
She'd opened her mouth to deny his point, but Arcadius was already onto another subject. Ophelia let it pass, suspecting he hadn't really meant to pay offense. The new line of inquiry made her wings shuffle reflexively, and she marveled at how the absence of pain was somehow a sensation unto itself. That didn't change the fact that the matter after which he asked was delicate. How much of her folly did she want to reveal? More pertinent still, how much of what had occurred between she and Verath would he want disclosed? But she owed Arcadius an answer, especially given everything he'd conceded to her in just a handful of minutes. "I was lost, separated from my family after a storm. Hurt through a fault all my own. Verath found me. He agreed to take me to the herd beyond the river." Her voice quavered slightly, the weight of everything she hadn't said teetering on her tongue. She still didn't fully understand why he'd accepted her presence in the first place, going so far as to change his course to accommodate it. And yet every time he'd stood a chance to rectify the mistake, he'd chosen to keep his word. Safeguarding her from wolves, scraping her up off the ground after a bad tumble, letting her sleep just close enough to him to stave off night's cold fingers. The enormity of all the acts stitched together was suddenly too vast to contemplate, beyond and above any duty, any blood ties or verbal obligation. Three days ago, he hadn't even known her. That revelation cracked something else inside her, deep and well beyond the reach of unicorn magic.
"I'm afraid I've been a problem for him ever since," she finished, pressing her lips together hard to keep them from conveying something worse. She was mostly free of pain, almost drowsy from the combination of curative energies and Arcadius' borrowed body heat. Simple, wholesome pleasure was hers for as long as she stood still. And it was all wrong. After a few bracing breaths, Ophelia heaved herself upright, away from the warmth and the comfort of Arcadius' touch. Her leg muscles spasmed, recently repaired nerves zigzagging with not-quite-pain, but nothing immediate. "Thank you, Arcadius, truly. I... I know that I can't begin to repay you." She took a step back to maintain distance, taking care to keep her wording sincere. "But I will try, in whatever ways I can."
Her attention flicked back to Verath, and she angled her body in his direction and straightened to her full height. It wasn't much, she knew, not compared to his towering frame, but sometimes it was all about sending a signal. "Let him help," she implored, soft and level for his ears alone. "I know it hurts, even if it isn't killing you. But it doesn't have to hurt. You've bled enough for me, Verath."
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