i am the vanguard of your destruction

One of us was lying,
both of us half-damned,
one of us the lion...

So if it wasn't enough with Mauja projecting all of his unsavory ideas onto her in those 6.23 seconds—his blasted friend had to try and murder her, too. Her talons were firmly sealed around Chico, the grip tight and grumpy (I can squish you, little thing, and you'd better hope they don't give me reason to), and her attention elsewhere (on him, and his apology)—on that idiot they called bond-mate. And just as he was soothing the tirade she was working up, putting ruffled feathers back into their places, Diego did something that was.. a little bit of everything; sound, projection, mind control.

She had the unpleasant sensation of a cold flood sweeping her out of her own body, her mind spinning and free-falling through a blizzard; a sickening lurch, like a strong wind flipping her over, and the sun spun overhead.

In the next moment, the bolts had passed, close enough to have left a faint trail of molten feathers—a dirty streak across her back.

Irma drew a breath like a drowning man just coming back above the surface, sorting through the facts with razor precision and predator speed—and white rage ignited in her mind. With Chico still in a too-safe grip (she makes me wish I could just drop you) she swerved sharply, frozen eyes and frozen heart reaching out to the mare.

You will know yourself better after this.

It was a tidal wave of darkness and ice, asphyxiation, a titan's fist closing around Elding's heart—it was a wolf, preying on everything she had hid deep within her soul and tried to bury.

It was a split-second moment of whatever she feared the most.

A moment in thrall to Irma's vengeance.

With an indignant huff she released the illusion after a few seconds, winging away with a wary, curious Diego close behind, and a lizard trapped in her grasp. They could be worried all they fucking pleased, but if she wanted her pet lizard back, she'd better be ready to work for it.

- - - - - - -

"Shit," he spat, out of breath, white knees bent and forced into the earth; grass and thistles had broken where he had somersaulted onto the ground.

The sun had spun for him, too, a blur in the sky. None of them had been ready, and Diego's compulsion had taken Mauja completely by surprise—the end result had been that all three of them had sort of careened sideways, two to save their lives, and the third just because he couldn't stop himself. Gurgling out something incoherent he peered up, more shaken than he wanted to admit, trying to steady his rattling nerves.

He could still see them, two distant shapes growing smaller and smaller, the vehement flash of Irma's rage cooling in the pits of her mind. And without knowing it, he had held his breath again—and when he realized it, he forced it out in a sigh and fell back onto his side. Most of his body throbbed, not entirely appreciating his sudden stunt trick.

He wasn't appreciating it, either—it was just dumb luck that he hadn't stuck his horn into the ground and snapped it off, or broken his neck, or something. "The hell," he mouthed into the grass, white mane spread on top of him like the cloth draped over the dead; he could barely remember it, just.. the crackle of static, the searing heat, and his vision spinning...

".. whatever," he said after another moment. His nerves were starting to shut up, too, and sure, he'd remember this for a long time. Sure, the sensation of being halfway out of his body and sort of semi-intentionally throwing himself down on one shoulder and then rolling in some way over himself was creepy as fuck. But why linger on it? So with a grunt he heaved himself back onto his feet, disheveled and sort of filthy, and climbed the small hill he'd been heading up. The lizard was safe. The owls were pissed. If Elding's pose was anything to go by (now that I can see you)..

.. well, he didn't know her well enough to take any hints from it. But if the lightning was anything to go by?

Yeah, no. Might want to be careful, King of the Asshole Owls.

"Elding?" he called, wary, starting down the hill on the other side and heading for her hill instead.

Please don't kill me.

This was the second time her rampant destruction had him hanging back; the second time he witnessed the destructive capacity she held within her small, compact frame...

Wings of flame fluttered in the back of his mind, in the back of his soul.

Destruction bore many masks. The corner of his mouth flicked up in a small, dark smile. Perhaps he should start giving others reason to approach him, too, with care.

.. and one the lamb.

[ @[Roskuld] ]