ashamin

&lochan

Time moved slowly for the haruspex. The fall seemed eternal, its landing far away and unattainable. Landing became something Ashamin was almost dreaming for, something he wanted more than anything else. At least to fall completely would be to feel the earth solid beneath him once more, to remind him that the world was not all the darkness of evil and hallucination.

The mare was a phantom, an enemy coming from nowhere. Ashamin could see her, out of the corner of his wide eyes and in rapid, nervous paintings sent to his mind from his small bonded. His left side floated in the air, seemingly moving by milliseconds, no slower, no, slower. Time was a thing outside of the haruspex, far from his understanding or control. All he had was sparks, all he had was some sort of fire in his heart that slowly, painfully, was burning.

When at last he thought he landed Ashamin instead found himself jabbed by something he couldn't see but, through his armor, felt like a particularly stiff stick. The impact was more a bother than a pain, and his ears flicked with rapid surprise when he made the connection that such dulling was a result of his new garb. So this was the true strength his armor held, was it? Had he time to smile he would have, for such a useful dampening of a blow could not be underestimated. Though it was true that perhaps a better grip on the earth or a better angle might have made the attack's instrument (which, with help from a quick sketch from his bonded, Ashamin now understood to be the mare's horn) more deadly, Ashamin was not going to take time to analyze it now.

Though his right stifle still burned too much to rely on that leg, the push of the horn on his left was enough for Ashamin to be righted ever so slightly--to gather the other three legs folding other him and unfurl them just in time.  The left legs splayed left, the right following them just enough so that his balance was well enough restored. Though the mud was too slippery for Ashamin to gain a clear footing, he was able to stop himself from face-planting completely, thanks to the mare's painful nudging him in the right direction.

So what remained, then? There was a second when, before he could even look at her, Ashamin was just struggling to catch his breath. He stood muddied and frantic, pain and exhaustion wrapping around him like a constrictor. Every inhale was heavy in his chest, same as the grief inflicted upon him by this mare's magic. Who was she but a stranger? How had she known his weaknesses, so easily inflicted them upon him? Never before had his love for his father been used as a weapon against him, and the mere thought of her violation of that purity was the greatest insult Ashamin was able to imagine. Before there had been no time to reflect, but now he had that precious second, that perfect series of breaths, to realize the horror of what she had done to him.

Lochan, ever at his aid, leaped to Ashamin's right side and tugged on the armor there, hoping to further right and lend support to the haruspex. Ashamin's hind right leg was lifted like a flamingo's, awkward as he tried to curl his body around the wound. With steady care he would be able to step on the leg again, but he wasn't going to try it now.

Now, with rage in his heart at the thought of the exploitation of his love, Ashamin felt none of that pain. Perhaps it was the warrior's spirit dulling the hurt, or perhaps it was the wide swaths of black that Lochan painted his bonded's mind. Whatever the cause, Ashamin was able to focus for long enough on something other than hurt to summon his magic.

The electricity was a wild thing, powerful and full of a potential. He sent it towards the mare with vicious energy, standing entirely still and barely casting her a glance as he did so. The painted buck had no words for her and her wickedness, did nothing but cast the surge in her direction. He hoped to shock her system, speed her heart, and then pull the magic back at the last, most painful second. Ashamin didn't know how much damage it would do. The magic had brought Thranduil to his knees but done little to others; its full power was still unknown to Ashamin.

The haruspex hoped, though, to hurt this mare. He wanted her to writhe in pain, to see her life and her love flash before her eyes. She deserved far worse than that for what she'd done.

""