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05-10-2015, 08:50 PM
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Begging would never become a weapon. It was a rare thing that she could only find use for in the lowest points of her life, when crumbling to broken knees with bloodied skin and wounded soul and heart came together to destroy her at once. The dying may want to die, but the fight for them on her end was nothing but a slow, thick, ebbing concoction that burned when it leaked out of her veins. It drunk away her happiness and her life, made itself fat on what it pull from her and settled her back into depression. She'd made herself strong in a temporary way, telling herself that she had defeated depression in the past, and therefore she could defeat it in the present and in the future. A feeling of triumph and relief is outweighed by the fact that she has only gained consent, not saved a life. Not yet. Guiding him to the bridge, she tries to keep in step with whatever pace he chooses to move at, Hobgoblin leaving them behind to interest himself in what he could find ahead. Something chews against her chest, and while she loathes herself for the question, her lips can no longer contain it. "Would you mind if I asked what happened out there?" A motion of the horn is swung in the direction of what used to be the Foothills, now deemed the Hidden Falls. A blurry memory existed of a frozen waterfall back there, but whatever had caused the change of name was unknown. There was laws made and she'd decided long ago that she wouldn't poke around places that left bad tastes in her mouth. "What's it like? The invasion and the Falls. I knew the Falls before it was the Falls, but only briefly." She's probably prying into a place that she shouldn't ask about, but by the time the gates, Hobgoblin sits impatient, holding a small mouse in his jaws as if to offer a gift. His tail flickers in an annoyed way, glaring with hard eyes that seem to say hurry up. The drive to tell him to be patient burrows into her chest. His expression and emotions tell it all, every single speck of how he wants her to hurry up with things. Internally, they wage war with the other's emotions, fighting for control and looking for slip holes. A balance needed to be made or they would never get this down, and soon enough would grow to hate one another in a trapped world. "The only way across is through the bridge with wings. You'll have to settle with flying and fire at the same time to get across." As if on cue, claws scrape against her hide, decorating her features in a cringe. She allows him to settle, mouse still firmly held in his jaws, waiting for the right time to make a meal out of it. Flames build themselves as wings at their shoulders, turning her head to make sure that the stranger was alright and prepared. "Are you ready?" Enough time is given for him to answer and prepare before she let's herself go, more of hovering over the ocean than flying. She'd much rather be down there than up in the sky, but what good would she do if her patient was abandoned and left alone? Silence fills her for the majority of the flight. Striking up conversation might ease the tension in her chest as they move, but the act is so mandatory that nothing changes it. Her hooves grace the earth with nothing more than a soft thud, drawing up clouds of dust. Hobgoblin leaps from her back and stands on the beach, waiting for their patient. "How do you feel?" Her eyes scan his dark coat, looking for anything that he hadn't held before their crossing. "Would you like to go into the heart of the herdland or do so here? Either way, I can wash your wounds." OOC: Sorry for dragging this out so far! I wanted to go ahead and get them into the Dragon's Throat itself. cx Hobgoblin's form is a Serval throughout this thread. @[Talion] En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. |
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
