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04-18-2016, 10:58 AM
He hears her, but her voice is indistinct beside the others ringing in his ears, all feminine, all distraught and distrustful. It’s not until the ice beneath her hooves makes an audible crunch nearby that his ears twist away from his skull and turn in her direction, dragging his head around with them. He staggers with the movement, splaying one foreleg wide and blinking away some overlaid mirage of reality that only he can see.
His eyes feel dry, hot. So does his mouth, but he makes an effort to answer the woman, whatever it was that she’d called to him. He’s unsure now whether it was his name or something else, can’t find the energy to think back and sift through the voices, just doesn’t want to. “Hey,” He croaks, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth to wet it. The longer he stares at her the more grounded he feels – and the more irritable. Of all the restless souls to find him in such a state, of course it has to be her. Fucking poetic.
“Here to destroy a weak link?” He starts with his usual venom, remembering clearly the litany of disgust she’d unleashed on him at the herd meeting (and the lack of disagreement from anyone present), but by the end he just sounds tired, resigned. “Go on then.” He prods her, “No one will look for me.” He straightens his neck and lets his eyes unfocus, green rings hidden beneath heavy lids, nothing but white ahead. How fitting.
He doesn’t really think she’ll kill him, not when there’s no sport in it at least, no one to wave his tattered hide in victory for (what a victory it would be), but they both know it won’t matter if she strikes today or tomorrow, with or without a fight (would he even bother?). He’s a matchstick of flame to her oceans worth of dousing power. At least in the solitude of night there’ll be no one to hear him scream, no one to look down and say, 'oh, but he must have been someone once,' while his heart can still bleed.
OOC // @Ki'irha
His eyes feel dry, hot. So does his mouth, but he makes an effort to answer the woman, whatever it was that she’d called to him. He’s unsure now whether it was his name or something else, can’t find the energy to think back and sift through the voices, just doesn’t want to. “Hey,” He croaks, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth to wet it. The longer he stares at her the more grounded he feels – and the more irritable. Of all the restless souls to find him in such a state, of course it has to be her. Fucking poetic.
“Here to destroy a weak link?” He starts with his usual venom, remembering clearly the litany of disgust she’d unleashed on him at the herd meeting (and the lack of disagreement from anyone present), but by the end he just sounds tired, resigned. “Go on then.” He prods her, “No one will look for me.” He straightens his neck and lets his eyes unfocus, green rings hidden beneath heavy lids, nothing but white ahead. How fitting.
He doesn’t really think she’ll kill him, not when there’s no sport in it at least, no one to wave his tattered hide in victory for (what a victory it would be), but they both know it won’t matter if she strikes today or tomorrow, with or without a fight (would he even bother?). He’s a matchstick of flame to her oceans worth of dousing power. At least in the solitude of night there’ll be no one to hear him scream, no one to look down and say, 'oh, but he must have been someone once,' while his heart can still bleed.
OOC // @Ki'irha
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