L E N A
who is the lamb and who is the knife

Chaos imbrued, embroiled, coiling, rapacious snakes in a serpentine plunge of anarchy and bedlam, where sanity faded and the throng of mania presided with a sinuous slide. She stood, in the wake of entropy, half-haunted, warm eyes slowly losing their open, compassionate candor while the fray swayed, swerved, into her midst. Bodies crashed, screams ignited, and power incensed in the glory of resolution, might, and will. Lena, the swan, the butterfly, the nymph, had seen this before, the wild, savage defending of a homeland, but had never been a contributor, too young, too scarred, too scared, too forgotten in the glade of protective boughs and eaves. But here, shattered and scattered amongst the rocky outcrop of wreckage and ruin, along the promise of violence and bloodshed, she had become a willing participant. Crawling in her veins were the sentiments of ferocity, the pieces of heritage that were drenched, soaked, in the vicious pins of villainy, and she’d never wished to command them, never longed to awaken that scathing ardor. This dangerous stage was forcing her to act a part she’d never rehearsed, never wanted.

Commands surged within the pandemonium, and her body responded in kind. Her motions brought her away from Aurelius, whose presence had been a momentary comfort in a sea adrift of threats and sieges, towards those labeled as enemies. They were creatures that sought something that was not their own, to proclaim and unleash violence upon her brethren, unchained, rampant, bellicose and trenchant. Was this what she was to do as well, become one of the tyrannical, the mob, lose the embossed veneer of the demure, the graceful, the refined? And if she did, would she lose part of herself in this militant world? Would pieces of her peaceful nature shatter, never to return? Would her gentle veil be ripped and torn to shreds, never found again? The reflection of these thoughts, made for idle, whimsical moments where fanciful diatribes could add to serenity, were haphazardly discarded as a long, draconic tail whipped near her side.

The searing pain was enough to shove her movements into a panicked semblance of limbs, scraping and clawing along the dirt for purchase, not willing to go down in the seditious drove. The slash from MIRAGE’S barb had torn against her left shoulder, made the flesh bleed in bright, crimson rivulets, and all the horror from this previous onslaught, witnessing and watching her companions dive against the swoon of torment, was forgotten. Ruthless were the chambers of her heritage, dauntless, heedless, merciless croons of cruel, audacious, ambitious people, and her slender, elegant chassis remembered what it’d been designed for. Hardened features, no longer glowing, no longer kind, no longer cherished, rendered her tenderness a foregone loss, and her legs pulsed with a beating, hardy conviction. Her left side ached but her drive was stronger, animosity quaking, boiling, and brimming beneath the former nuances of a tranquil, ethereal femme. Now, she was like them, pervading the grounds with the devilish croon of villainy and disorder.

The beat of JAYDAN’S wings and feathers hummed above her, a dark, shadow resonating with the toxic hint of another beating down upon her; she swerved out of the way, hoping to avoid the force of his bulk. His created wind tossed her striding, her lithe columns struggled once more against the surface of the Edge, stumbling but still pulling her body along, gathering courage and perseverance. She didn’t stay in that sector, away, away from these heady tombs and onto another. She spied DESCARO and FAELENE, tearing their way towards two Pegasus, and ground her teeth against her jaw, no longer fragile, no longer tolerant, but willing to help undo another being. Immersed in the harsh doldrums, she joined the overflow of thrashing bodies, adding her prowess to the mess. AZZUEN had reared, aiming his height for advantage unto FAELENE, but Lena aimed from his hind, feeling the pulse from his wings, but lunging for his rear columns. Lowering her body into a feline crouch, ignoring the scathing ache of her shoulder, she lowered her horn like a rotten, twisted scabbard, and drove it towards AZZUEN’S right haunch. With any luck, her attack would buy FAELENE time to scramble away.

[Gathering herself for the fight, Lena is struck by MIRAGE’s tail barb, scraping against her left shoulder. As she turns to aid her companions, she is blown off to the side by JAYDAN’s wings. She then goes towards the group of AZZUEN, FAELENE, TARES and DESCARO, lending her aid by trying to drive her horn into AZZUEN’s right haunch as he rears.]