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01-09-2016, 09:20 PM
 | Well, apparently the pretty mare had lots of friends. Lots of lovely friends who wanted to gut him and string him from a tree. Of all the types, he had never thought himself one for crazy – but apparently he had misjudged himself in more ways than one. He is about to respond, but the golden stallion’s cold vocals interrupt him. There is a poison seeping into the air around him, crackling as it is with electricity, and the prince’s hair stands on end as he realizes that there is not going to be any avoiding this; regardless of the state of his memory, the golden stud is out for blood, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Well, let it not be said that he went down without a fight. Zarina shrieked her alarm as the Aurelight approached him menacingly. Quilyan danced away, light on his feet at least, if outmatched in strength. He whirled away, turning his rump to the stallion chasing him in an attempt at protection of his more vital parts. He prepared to kick out as the steed approached, murder in his eyes – but then he heard the mare’s voice, rising above it all, wracked with sobs, and he realizes that all this fight will do is hurt her more. Whatever else had happened, he didn’t want that. He never wanted that. He halted, wincing in preparation for the onslaught that was to come; his gaze searched for hers, attempting to lock eyes, to convey in a look what he could not in words. This was for her, his utter defeat, his undoubted demise; whatever he had done to her, the Aurelight could pay back tenfold, and he would not move, would not fight, would not complain. If I truly deserve this, then may the Gods strike me down here and now. Zarina was screaming in his head, afraid to move lest she be trampled but desperate to reach her bonded, fueled by fear and rage at the audacity of it all. --MOVE, you big idiot!-- she half-pleaded, half-ordered, but still the stallion stood in silence, waiting for the blow. And, when it came, it hurt as badly as he had feared, but somehow he welcomed it – the searing pain of teeth in his crest, the rip that he heard as much as felt as a chunk of mane and flesh pulled free. He was oddly calm, at peace with his fate (though, in truth, perhaps it was simply the mare's magic). He was going to die. For her, it was worth it. "Talk talk talk." |
Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
