| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
All his desperation, all his fury, was met with nothing but the callous sound of laughter. The creature's taunting filled the cavern and set Roland's blood boiling as he tried in vain to return through the mirror, faced only with a solid and unforgiving pane of ice. He was goaded on with more rhymes and riddles, the feline leaving her perch upon the rocks like a small and flitting shadow. She stepped towards him on light feet and wound her way around his limbs like a serpent, and Roland's thoughts stirred at unpleasant memories; he recoiled, curled his lip and glared down at the small feline, withdrawing from her touch as quickly as if he had been burned. His eyes followed her spectral form as she padded to the mirror, looked upon the glass and continued in her hauntingly melodic voice, and he struggled to parse substance in her words. A gift?
"I agreed to pay no cost. I did not consent to sacrifice," he argued, voice low and calm, though there was the dangerous notes of a building tidal wave beneath it. He drew a step closer to her, head lowered. "If you must take anyone, let it be me." He might have been provoked into violence had she not immediately disappeared into thin air, as if she had never existed to begin with. And then the shadow, the shade, reappeared upon his back, her voice ringing in his ears, her presence noticed and yet not felt; Roland expected, anticipated the bite of claws upon his flesh, the weight of her frame against his back, and yet there was no sensation but the glide of torpid air as it circulated throughout the cavern, brushing against his damp skin. The feline's tail swept like the fingers of a ghost against his hip. He waited for the phantom touch to seize him, to feel pain or fear, but it would not come.
She chattered on, as if they had all the time in the world to entertain her wicked sport. Roland turned his head to watch her, his frame still and solid as stone, as if he suspected moving might motivate her to attack. He wanted to upset her balance and cast her as far away from him as possible, but he assumed his efforts would have little effect on one with such a keen hold on magic. Her words lead him on, drew his interest with suggestions of a possible solution, a key with which he could retrieve his companion, and he ceased his glaring to listen, gaze meeting with the sharpness of her own.
The taunting smile returned to the cat's features once she had finished reciting her riddle, and Roland turned away from her as the cave descended into silence, and he descended similarly, a cascade, a collapse, into frantic thought. His gaze roamed the slick walls, the spikes of ice forming along the cracks and crevices in the rock, the corners of shadow, searching as if the answer might be hidden just within his reach. Meanwhile his heart thudded loudly in his chest, as if reminding him of the passing of time. He turned restlessly to the mirror, wondering if he might have strength enough to simply break through it, but it was an instrument of magic, and blunt force was unlikely to be enough to shatter the barrier between them. The feline expected a game, a challenge, and he would have to rise to the occasion or suffer the consequences.
The answer, however, did not lie itself before his feet, nor did it come easily and willingly to his mind. As time passed he grew increasingly more anxious, more frantic, believing he might fail to solve the puzzle and save Lena from her quandary. He could not bear to think how she might have felt, trapped and isolated on the other side, and so he turned his focus once again to the riddle.
It seemed an age passed within mere seconds, but at long last he was finally able to put to test an answer that had crept warily into his thoughts. Roland had never ventured into dry, arid deserts or felt the keen bite of it against his skin, had not seen dunes of it sculpted by the wind, towering as high as the foothills, but he had known the shift of it beneath his feet when visiting the sea, pouring through his grip like water. He turned back to the creature curled upon his spine, summoned all his hope and courage, and took a daring guess. "Sand?"
@[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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