| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
It started out as a song. The Thief was familiar with the sound of her voice, had heard her sing a number of times, mellifluous voice weaving and sewing jubilant chords, curative arias. Now the melody floated across the width of the lake, careening, dancing through the air. It was as alluring as her healing songs in its inception, an ebb and flow of sounds, sweeping along in time with the breeze against the rock faces, through sun-warmed air, light and ethereal. Roland was captivated by her voice, the tune of it, the hint of power within, a lightning-crackle of magic in her vocals. He attuned to it, compelled to lean in closer, to watch her with rapt attention as her anthem altered pitch, departed innocuous auras, skirted beyond the threshold of calm and became at once beautifully violent, seething with the prowess of an expert, all the wrath of a deity, surging, scouring across the mountainous expanses, a brilliant blaze of light upon the surface of the lake. He stood too far away to feel much more than a mere whisper of heat across his cheek, but once the glare of orange flame had caught his eye, the Thief turned to watch its war path across the water, flowing like a viscous liquid, burning with subdued rage, the curl and coil of a serpent's body, the arch of a dragon's wings. It tore over the water, rent the air, fed and coaxed by the Mender's song as it unfolded in leaps and bounds across the lake.
Around them the world did not pause to watch the vivid display. There was the low, persisting note of silence beneath the chorus of fire, a tranquility that was nothing like the apprehension that had gripped the ocean before the stallion's attack. It was unlike anything Roland had ever seen before. The winged beast's magic could not compare- that sudden assault, ash and spark billowing towards them in a violent explosion- faltered against her composed demonstration. This was woven through the melody of her voice, enticed, goaded as if sentient, given a mind of its own, yet it was assuaged by her commands, tied to each euphonious order, following her wishes without resistance, a remarkable weapon at her disposal.
A shiver tracked along the Thief's spine, a jolt of bewilderment in the rigid coil of his posture. He watched the flames billow through the air, sweep along the current of wind as if tracking the path of music notes themselves; he observed until every last spark, each pinprick of orange light had faded out, until there was no vibrant reflection in the water, no song to give it wings, power, a crackling voice of its own. He felt it dissipate, a bleed of energy from the air, all at once bereft of its presence. Roland turned a deliberating gaze upon Lena, fascination in the bright blue of his eyes. He cast away her modest words with a smile and an imperceptible shake of his head. "It's wonderful," he argued with a soft laugh. She could heal, take up the wounded from their battlefields and piece them back together, restore and reinvigorate, and now she was a weapon, a protector, as dangerous as she was benevolent. The Thief felt dwarfed within her shadow, a court jester beside the King's favoured knight. "I have no doubt that it will serve you well, Lena." His voice was filled with pride, relief easing the tension in his muscles. She and Imogen were a force to be reckoned with. Roland had toyed with the idea of acquiring magic of his own, something to serve him in his shadowed, illicit endeavors. He thought of the trials and tribulations he could face, the obstacles he might have to overcome to obtain it, manipulated like a simple pawn by the whims of the Gods. After all the years of having resisted the need for it, he felt the stirrings of a longing for power, the inciting spark of an idea, a new pursuit burgeoning within his mind. It would be similar to carving out a new and unexplored path, though this time he would not be breaking the established ties with his home; but it was a rumination for another time. He stirred, shifted his feet against the slate and gave Lena a teasing look. "Our enemies stand no chance against the pair of you," he pointed out with a wink in Imogen's direction, a grin spreading across his lips.
@[Lena]
Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.
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Image Credit
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