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As promised, Tyradon summoned them. Moniz had held up her end of the bargain through no small effort on her part: she told no one of their clandestine plans. But she was tempted. Every time some mindless equine buzzed irritatingly about her, she was so very tempted to tell them the truth – that a scheme was hatching to overwhelm and control the mindless masses, and she was going to be a part of it. Helovia would change, and she had bought into the new power structure. Fate favors the harbingers of change, not the staid guardians of tradition.
She wanted to tell everyone all of this. You dolts will cater to my every whim soon enough. But she had given Tyradon her word, and as flawed as she was, Moniz always stood by her word. So she bit her tongue, biding her time by studying the odd lizard-creature who clung inextricably to her and waiting for the behemoth’s call.
Finally, it came – not with a bang, but a whisper; a series of low snorts their summoning cry in the night. Darco had tangled a matted section of hair above Moniz’s withers, where he nested while they moved. As the pony’s mind prickled with electric excitement, he stirred, too. His tongue flickered across his broad black snout, tasting the buzz of long-awaited plans churning into action.
Moniz emerged from the shadows and joined the rest of the group, finally seeing the militia that had been assembled for the vague schemes Tyradon spoke of in the caves. The leaders stood elevated, as was only right – Moniz knew as much, but still she hungered for more. She wanted to stand above the crowd, too. But this whole scheme was teaching her a lesson in patience and awaiting one’s just desserts. Soon enough. First they needed to accomplish their collective goals. Everyone in the group would stand above the beaten and reverent Helovian masses. The specifics of the hierarchy within the Regime would be settled later. And I will ascend to the rank I am owed.
But for now, she was a cog in this fledgling machine. Their leaders painted a striking picture: massive Tyradon with his delightfully fierce Cynder alongside shadowy Confutatis and the wickedly disturbing hellhound. Moniz stood before them amongst her brothers and sisters in arms, none of whom she had ever seen before. “Hello again,” she greeted them with her best attempt at reverence (it was none too convincing, but at least she tried). She could not stop herself from adding impatiently, hungrily, “It’s time?”
OOC: I played the timeline like Moniz & Confutatis have finished their meeting and all that; hope that’s okay. If not let me know and I’ll edit as needed. =) |
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