In a warm sweep of air and a collossal crash, everything was finished. The Dauntless raised his head, armor collapsing across his body and resting against his blackened breast. His body ached with the burns he sustained, but the pain was a mere pebble compared to the pain of dragonfire licking across his skin. Golden eyes narrow some, but concern laces his mind (mind faintly throbbing with the reconnection to his lost companion, whimpering in the distance). Turning, Archibald went to reach forward and down and touch the shoulder of the demigod, praying within his heart that she was not dead. Ophelia, Ophelia. His mind whispers some, a dull thought of the one who should be standing guard over the hybrid filly.
Before his pale nose can reach her, however, Roskuld is up and charging and screaming. The massive warlord lifted his head quickly, snorting as he watched her run off toward the shore. "ROSKULD!" He called after her, taking two or three steps in her direction. He watched with curious, concerned eyes as the demigod closed the distance to a spotted figure, one Archibald recognized as Mauja. Archibald could not tell what was happening in the distance, and as he moved his massive hooves forward to follow the Child of Spark, a quick and awkward, dark movement caught his eye. Turning his head, Archibald draped his gaze over his panicked nephew.
There was something wrong, surely, and Archibald shifted his weight. What was happening? Golden eyes swept to where his companion was, careful whispers of her mind reentering his own. "Milo." Archibald breathed the child's name in the wake of battle, eyes lifting then from the silver-black boy to look for his own son. Abraham's body moved away into shadows and Archibald stood silent, watching twin dragons follow the wake of the young titan. Sighing, Archibald knew he needed to follow Milo's beckoning.
[Archibald continues in private thread w/ Knox.]
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SWP :: Blunt Little Instruments (Conclusion)
