"My bad!" calls my voice in answer to my sire’s grunt of pain and the dull thump of my hoof against him.

Looking over at my dad with the grimace of apology, though it is a short lived moment, my attentions drawn away from regret to the act at hand. I manage to roughly kick one wolf in the jowl, and it goes spinning with a yelping sound away from us.

The wolf is cleaved nearly in half by a large, warg like creature that makes my legs tremble beneath me, my golden eyes rolling after its ferocious and murderous charge to make sure it doesn’t grow bored of trouncing shadow dogs and turns on us, instead.

Please let him be on our side.

A brief nicker of farewell escapes my lips as my father makes his quiet leave of me – again, I don’t want to seem overly attached, though I admit I had hoped he’d stay and talk for at least a little while before wandering back to wherever he spent most of his time these days. I follow his trajectory to where Ophelia and Torleik are, feeling a brief flash of jealousy that I am still so much younger than they are.

Obviously this is what makes them such preferable company.

I let my eyes fall away from my father and uncle to land again on the Goddess (though they flicker across the figure of a fallen female, laying in a pool of red thick and sticky), who lets her magic ride across the field of death, restoring the warg beast into a figure of a winged and horned black stallion, delivering boons and gifts from the bones of the fallen God to those who had been most helpful to her (or so I can only guess).

I’m not surprised she gave me nothing – I had, after all, been more afraid than useful, even managing to kick my dad.

As she delivers her vengeance upon those who had dared attack her (my sister among them, earning an “I told you so” haughty glance from me and an attached devilish smirk). And then she is running among us, magic trailing from her lavender bodice, and as she passes me, my nostrils are filled with divine smell of immortality and stardust, and the wounds upon my body shimmer and fade into nothingness, their ache a dull memory.

But one is not healed.

The cry of Ashamin draws gaze from Aithniel, who I’d been making my way towards to see what she planned to do about this meeting the Goddess had asked her to (with a gung ho prance found with this newly revitalized body of mine), and though I keep on walking as if I’m not going to change my course, I can’t help but see why he’s shouting.

There is a girl on the ground.

A girl who is dying.

My pace slows, my ears falling back on my head. Absently I stare in her direction, unsure what I can do to help, feeling some part of my heart literally tremble and break with the shrill shouts of the Haruspex. I don’t know her, but she is pretty, even as she dies, lying there alongside the dark winged figure that had been a massive wolf, and though I can’t help her, I cannot help but wonder if someone won’t.

[ OOC: Goes to make his way towards Aithniel when the battle is over only to be distracted by Ashamin shouting about Aviya. He pauses to watch what happens because morbid curiosity. Also Time if Aviya is legit dying I am going to cry whole rivers and flood my living room like you don’t even know. D: ]