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08-20-2015, 11:14 PM
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Holy shit-- There was a mess of tragedies trickling in on all sides, stories and heartbreak and familiar faces and strange ones and butt-ugly ones all coming together, piling around us faster than I could really get a grip on. And I still didn’t have time to get a grip on it cuz there was a S N A P in the air and all those tragedies and ugly mugs (including mine) was blasted backward under the force of the world ending —and there, suddenly, was a blue, icy, drooling hulk of a fight breathing in my Pa’s face. And I guess I’m just gonna have to set all that other shit aside, huh? My Pa was already leaping to attack and I was screaming “MMPH!!” at him (motherfuck I still have your sword you cocky son of a bi—) He was gone, though, and he had told me to fight with him—and even though my jaw was aching around Sparkmarrow's hilt and my ass was on fire, you were fluttering above my head on feathery grey wings, trilling your insistence for us to fight, telling me in all sorts of ways that you were gonna jump into the fray whether I liked you to or not—and in a zpnck! that was deeper and more final than any of the others I had heard, you shifted into something large, something with heavy beating wings and all sorts of fur ruffling all throughout your body— --and you were moving too fast for me to see what you had become, but there was a fierce, savage spark of victory in your breast, damn-near the same sensation I had felt when the Sparkmarrow’s edge had bit into the non-flesh of Drolgatha— --and Pa was flying for the top of the monster, attacking the ice that jutted from the demon-god’s back—and you were going for its eyes, shooting forward to try and distract the eerie glow of the monster’s eyes— --and that left me with the bottom, didn’t it? The slimy, acid-burnt bottom that was bathed with the demon-god’s treacherous slobber, where his great, rocky limbs carried his weight, probably full of all kinds of power and whoop-ass. It was the most dangerous part of him—but if one of his paws were damaged, that would be a severe weakness to him, wouldn’t it? (—flashes of me, barely grown, stabbing my stubby horn into the palm of a fire giant, keeping my Ma safe from—) I launched myself forward, my teeth gripping the hilt with newfound determination; I bolted for the demon-god’s front left leg, the dimly-glowing blade of Sparkmarrow seemingly yearning for the taste of flesh, mortal and alike, as I yanked my head to the side and threw the sword towards the ice bear’s tendons and bone. (I mean, it had worked before, right?) [Fighting for |
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