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11-15-2015, 12:53 PM
Rain slips from the beast's various angles and curves, the snakelike rivulets slithering over the dark marble slab of his muscles. He takes a step towards the queen of flowers with menacing reassurance; tendon and sinew pull taut with tension along the sterling surface of her hide, adhering her together when she'd rather run away. He speaks, but Lothíriel does not register his words—all she can hear is the rhythmic thrum of raindrops and her own heart picking out a grim cadence within her breast. In a fluid movement, the dragonesses leap simultaneously from their perch on the leviathan, moving on either side of the pair. Swooping low, the golden one lets the precious feather drag on the grass, a ring of flowers springing around them, augmenting those already budding by Lothíriel's feet. With a pang of both jealousy and resentment, she knows now that this encounter will not end peacefully; his next words confirm her suspicion.
Fear is something she has never felt with any certainty, but without a doubt, she knows it now. The hellion lurch forwards, his horn aiming to bite into her shoulder. From either side, the dragons unleash a torrent of both fire and ice. It occurs to the roan girl that with danger at every angle, her only apparent option is to fall upon the sword of his horn—if this is what he wants her to do, then she must do the opposite. Gracelessly, she reels to the right, hooves desperately seeking purchase on the slick grass. The brute's horn manages to trace a thin red line on the skin of her shoulder, but she does not dare slow down. Passing beneath the golden queen, she feels the numbing sensation of the icy assault on her haunches, as well as the more distant heat of sizzling dragon-flame on her left side. Bloodied and half-frozen, the lilac maiden manages to lurch past the murderous trio and into the merciless downpour. When she reaches a safe distance, Lothíriel halts her escape and turns to face them, quivering from frostbite and trepidation. With a shaky sigh, she begins to hum, and then sing, every word assuming a dreamlike quality. You are going to stop, is what each lilting stanza seems to suggest; I am innocent. lust for comfort suffocates the soul / this relentless restlessness liberates me
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Loth used this magic: [ Magic: Light | Ability to lull others into a trance with song that encourages them to believe what she says ], but it's up to you if it even works/the extent of it. :)
@Abraham
