.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-19-2016, 05:39 PM
|
Gull!
underneath it all, we're just savages Dawn finds him awake, but that is no surprise. It has been the same for a matter of weeks now. As the sun climbs into the sky, Gull paces below. Though it is early enough for his breath to come in silver clouds against the cool Orangemoon air, a light sweat coats his body, and a hint of steam rises from his coat. The Tallsun flies have long vanished, but his tail lashes and his hooves strike the beach heavily, betraying the agitation that bubbles within. Why? It seems to echo in his mind with every step, to escape his flaring nostrils with every ragged exhale. He pivots, scattering sand in his wake and scaring the gulls that doze nearby. Why? Why had she saved him? Blue eyes stare ahead, but as always, he only finds Tiamat’s face, a maddeningly gentle expression etched on the features of a killer. She opens her mouth to speak, but he will not let her. Ears pinned, he wheels again, destroying the illusion. She has done enough damage. Wouldn’t it have been enough to kill him? he wonders. Wouldn’t it have been enough to walk away, to leave him to die as Gaucho had? He had expected as much when she had found him. He would have done it for her. That was the order of things! But instead she had saved him—why? Why, why, WHY? Each repetition is a hoof slammed into the ground, a sob suppressed. Why is he different from Ma, from Muriel? Where was mercy for them? He doesn’t know. He sucks in a breath. Ironically, these are the easy questions. Far darker are the what if’s? and the who thens? that lurk in the back of his mind, the questions that he cannot face. What if you are wrong? Tiamat’s voice whispers. He shakes his head once, as if it will silence her. Who then are you? she murmurs, and he lunges at nothing, teeth bared uselessly against an enemy he cannot fight. Down the beach, the gulls startle once more. Sides heaving, he glances up and catches sight of the dark silhouette gliding across the sand. Tia--? But no, though the telltale dagger juts from its head, this one is nearly a hand taller than Tiamat and more heavily muscled. A slight breeze skitters along the shore, carrying the unfamiliar scent to Gull. He freezes. The choice is laid out before him now, the chance to attack…or the opportunity to know. Before, it never would have been a question, but after days of torment, his resolve has weakened. What if…? he hears Tiamat whisper, and he hesitates. What if not all of us are what you think we are? He shakes his head again, but she will not be silenced. What if? she asks, what if? WHAT I —Enough. In a moment, the choice is made. Though perhaps the bravest thing he has ever done, it is only to make her stop, only to make her go away. Standing before Deimos, he trembles, not because he faces the Lord of Death himself, but because a single gesture of civility on a stranger’s part stands to break him and everything he has ever stood for. And then he has his answer. A ball of fire barrels forth from the dark beast, clearly meant for him. Unprepared, he yelps and jumps to the side, yanking up his right wing in the nick of time—saved by the reflexes learned all too well from his last fight with Gaucho. Still, his flank stings, and he can smell the awful stench of burned hair. Refolding his wing, he winces, but a harsh chuckle is already escaping his lips. The world is right again. When the stranger speaks, Gull can only smile. “And what would that be?” he asks lightly. “Your balls?” His gaze flickers pointedly to the stallion’s groin, but only for a moment. It is a cheap distraction, but hopefully it will be long enough to allow him to draw his own dagger. In one swift motion, Gull pulls the sharpened horn from its place on his leg and charges, gripping the dagger sideways in his teeth. He sets his course to the left, veering toward the side where the sand is better packed and intending to drive the knife into his enemy’s throat as he passes by. His eyes glint, hardened for a battle, but his lips curl upwards around the knife. Thanks for the second chance, Tia. I’ll use it well. "talk talk talk" Attack: 1/4 WC: 754/800 Summary: Pulls his horn dagger and charges to his left (Deimos' right), where the sand is more packed. Aims for the throat. |
@Deimos
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
