.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-29-2015, 03:43 PM
The last banshee cries of the mighty tigeress fall on flattened ears, having been pressed to chiseled skull when the sound of bones crunching and taste of fur and blood invaded her senses. Pressed shut against the bones and sinew giving way to the relentless waves crashing against the falling mountain. Victory was as bitter as the taste of acrid fur and the cost was too much to think about, all around her there were injured Helovian's, some came away with mere scrapes and bruises that mottled their velvet hides with deep marks and dried blood while even more paid a heftier price. Bones had been broken, flesh had been rendered with fury made fire and the land laid bare beneath their hooves — lush grass now lay in ashen patches while deep indents whispered the tale that had just transpired. This stretch of land was not worth the cost, and Father Earth's words rang hollow. Nephele watched the prizes being given out, nostrils still flaring and chest rumbling deep in an attempt to rein in her breathing, muscles rippling under her sweat slickened pelt. It was customary, she assumed, that the Goddess was recycled and given a new life to those whom the God deemed deserving the most. 'It is not my place to question the Gods' she repeated herself silently, but a quieter voice whispered 'What gifts were there to give for those who lost the most? Where were the words of comfort to those that grieved?' No longer willing to watch, she turned and began in a steady walk through the bodies — some seemed to flit away on spread wings, no longer willing to linger another moment on descecrated ground, others disappeared into the thick trees to seek solace but many were running and screaming to find those lost on the battlefield. Over taxed wing hanging loosely to allow it time to recover, ice and gold searched for familiar faces in need of help. My duty is done, she affirmed to herself, she had defended her homeland and her herd. It was time to find her herd, and return to the desert sands and their heated embrace. May the desert wash away the pain. May it's sun bathe aching muscles free of strain, may it bathe the tender of heart and the most grieved soul free of ire and sorrow. _________________________________________________________________________________ Notes;; summaries & comments go here "talking talking talking" ashes call my name
|
“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”
― Terry Pratchett
Please tag Neph in all replies!
Force & violence permitted with the exception of maiming & death
