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08-30-2013, 01:36 PM
[OOC; anyone is welcome. <3 ]
Every step home was slow, stole some part of her resolve away and was followed by the drip, drop of her blood as it fell to the earth from her ravaged top-line. Much had dried, the crust thick and grotesque upon her dark flesh, the golden brindle stained a murky burgundy, it's lack of luster tied, she felt, rather ironically to the way she felt within. Turmoil and rage, they bubbled and frothed beneath the clean sheet of ice she had steeled it behind, for she had not the strength to run, nor did she wish to fall to her knees and weep once more, a stream of curses upon the Moon Goddess for what would feel like the thousandth time in her life. Had she truly lived so long? What was there for her to show for it? A title, an empty vassal of power? She carried that calling now as if it was pure lead, or full of the heaviest substance in all the universe, not a glorious trail of holiness spreading out behind her wake, and wondered for the first time how Psyche could remain standing beneath it all.
She had never expected it to be like this.
The battle had been lost, as had that to the south if the already blood splattered path to the mountain before her was any sign of the outcome. She hadn't encountered any of the other party on her return, nor any of those she had charged into the forest with; it would seem that she was greatly slowed by the damage that Zaffre had laid upon her. The image of the blue lizard make her features contort in disgust, the web winged freak the only reason she was in so much pain. Smoke had done little to harm her in comparison to the atom bomb that had exploded upon her spine and haunches, and it burned and scalded her soul that she had been ravaged so expansively by the little prick when his master had received only wounds that Illynx herself could inflict. It shone a new light on the subject of companionship, bonding one's soul with another; previously, the mare had viewed creatures such as Zaffre or Lena's dearest Imogen as weak points, loops that when broken unraveled the master as well. But that Smoke had managed to inflict such savagery upon her through their bond was illuminating, curious.
The gleam of blood on her horn tip caught her eyes; if only you had found her wretched heart, or that damnable dragon's.
Then two bodies would have lain upon the forest floor, one dead by her sword, the other from the bleeding of their own soul. Even if one managed to live through the death of their companion, they were forever broken, unwhole. Never again would they shimmer with the complete vibrancy of life, the joy that ended with their deep bond. It frightened her, to become a ghost in such a way, locked any notion to gain power through the connection to a kitsune or other creature. Illynx had nothing but her spirit to sustain her existence as it was now. It would be impudent to risk her finest skills for any improvement that such a creature could provide her, and such was the way her brain functioned; gain, the calculative risk involved, and whether or not to follow the course of action.
The result of the war, however, left her wondering if her brain had ever been useful at all, or simply an illusion she had painted around herself. What became clear, no matter the answer to that question, was that she had robbed herself of much by being so self centered.
With an dismal aura burning about her stalking frame, the unicorn now known as the Gilded Blade slipped through the entrance to her mountain home, head held low and steps agonized as she angled herself to retire to her cave for a bit of rest before the healers could come and provide her any assistance. A glance was given to the hot springs as she idled past, but weariness devoured any and all desire to be beautiful at this moment; her own heart fought with her tooth and nail, her arrogance shattered and strewn across the floor of World's Edge, along all the paths that she had followed home. It didn't mean that it wouldn't return to her as soon as she was healed and things were back to the normal ebb and flow, but it did make her rather intriguing to converse with at the moment, should others decide to follow her into her cave.
The moss was cool and cruel upon her wounded back as she slipped underneath it, but the pain was sweet in comparison to all the agony she had experienced on the way to this moment. As soon as her eyes settled to the nearly pitch blackness of the damp area, a curious sight befell her; atop the pile of stones that she had nestled her vial of blood in, a gleaming object had appeared in her absence. Her head rose up, ears forward and nose smelling the air about her for the odors of a stranger, but the cave smelled only of her and the general cave scents, so hesitantly she stepped forward a pace, and then two.
An amulet, the delicious thought came with a smile, her eyes tracing the gleaming blue tinted metal, the sapphire embedded in it's center. So intricate the metal work; her crown lowered, golden eyes absorbing the glittering trinket with a lust she had not known in many seasons. Beautiful, and from it's look, one of the trinkets given to the followers of the Lord Time; it would seem that she had pleased some one with her actions of late, at least. Slipping the tip of her beloved horn under the links of the mythril-like chain and raising her head, letting the glimmering thing slide down past her ears and neck and settle it's cool, smooth back upon her chest.
