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07-09-2012, 07:28 PM
The God's words were scarce warnings for what he was about to experience. A soft murmur about pain, and then strange magic wrenched the hybrid's jaws open and held them that way while the scales and stones he'd brought here were crammed into his mouth and down his throat.
Shock held the mighty steed motionless at first, golden eyes going wide with alarm before the pain began to register. It was an intense pain, encompassing. But then a warm presence wrapped itself around his mind, and his gaze veered unerringly toward Akaith, sitting nearby and gazing back at him with concern. Dazedly he realized he could sense Mirage within this presence, could hear their voices penetrating the fog of pain that threatened to drag him under.
Gratefully he latched onto them, inadvertantly distancing his consciousness from the experience his body was going through. Grasping at their words instead during the span of time that seemed to last forever yet was only a minute before the element of the pain altered. Until he could feel the changes that had been wrought to his body, and the magic let him go.
Tentatively Vikram reclaimed control of his body, staggering as joints that had locked against the pain came loose, gasping raggedly against the burning pain that lanced down his throat still. But he could hear Mirage still, wasn't sure how much was through Akaith and how much was in his own ears, but he listened to her, obeyed the summons that rang through him.
Slowly, gingerly, he turned and walked back down the path, mind fogged by pain but ringing with the voices of Akaith and Mirage. They goaded him on when he might have otherwise fled into unconsciousness to avoid the pain, until he glimpsed the dark mare at the path's end. Gamely he gathered his strength and picked up from a slow walk into a stilting trot, wings flaring reflexively to maintain his balance. Reaching her he staggered to a halt once more, head and wings drooping from exhaustion, but relieved to be amongst friends again.
"Mirage... Akaith... water?" His voice had faded to a whisper, fighting against the pain in his throat. Yet he managed to invoke gratitude with their names, before ending with a querying plea. Water, shelter, and company were what he wished for most.
Shock held the mighty steed motionless at first, golden eyes going wide with alarm before the pain began to register. It was an intense pain, encompassing. But then a warm presence wrapped itself around his mind, and his gaze veered unerringly toward Akaith, sitting nearby and gazing back at him with concern. Dazedly he realized he could sense Mirage within this presence, could hear their voices penetrating the fog of pain that threatened to drag him under.
Gratefully he latched onto them, inadvertantly distancing his consciousness from the experience his body was going through. Grasping at their words instead during the span of time that seemed to last forever yet was only a minute before the element of the pain altered. Until he could feel the changes that had been wrought to his body, and the magic let him go.
Tentatively Vikram reclaimed control of his body, staggering as joints that had locked against the pain came loose, gasping raggedly against the burning pain that lanced down his throat still. But he could hear Mirage still, wasn't sure how much was through Akaith and how much was in his own ears, but he listened to her, obeyed the summons that rang through him.
Slowly, gingerly, he turned and walked back down the path, mind fogged by pain but ringing with the voices of Akaith and Mirage. They goaded him on when he might have otherwise fled into unconsciousness to avoid the pain, until he glimpsed the dark mare at the path's end. Gamely he gathered his strength and picked up from a slow walk into a stilting trot, wings flaring reflexively to maintain his balance. Reaching her he staggered to a halt once more, head and wings drooping from exhaustion, but relieved to be amongst friends again.
"Mirage... Akaith... water?" His voice had faded to a whisper, fighting against the pain in his throat. Yet he managed to invoke gratitude with their names, before ending with a querying plea. Water, shelter, and company were what he wished for most.
