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03-04-2016, 09:31 AM
Ashamin
Ashamin should have known. Years after the event, looking upon his own children, the painted buck would still be haunted by his failure. Maybe there wasn't any way he could have--but no, there was--maybe there wasn't any reason to suspect it--but he shouldn't have assumed otherwise--maybe it wasn't his fault but--no, it was. He should have known. When his jaws clamped down upon the stranger's crest his desperation was silenced and he felt her flesh yield. The mare had stood, forcing Ashamin to reach up and move closer to grab her, but she made little attempt to avoid him. Beneath the force of his bite she seemed weak, which Ashamin knew she was not. Somewhere behind him, where he no longer was due to his adjustment, was the faint rumbling of earth shifting in his shadow. Why didn't she try harder? The stranger knew where the stag was, why not strike him there? Her body fell away from him as the bear's bite faded with time. Watching her stand was painful; watching her try to press on when he was hardly hurt (and already slowly healing) felt sinful. The last of the flesh around the scratches on his cheek patched itself, leaving only thin lines of scabs, and already the mark of the mare's blade was beginning to bother him less as beneath his skin electricity wove back together vessels that had broken to bruise. The blood trailing from it slowed, the cold numbed the pain. It was only Ashamin's heart that truly hurt, now. This time, her words were cutting enough to make the haruspex respond. He wanted to know her, so why wouldn't she let him? The haruspex was tired of asking questions, he was tired of seeking out knowledge when, by now, it should have been seeking out him. Why wouldn't she just tell him? "I wanted to!" came the cry, sorrowful and dripping with spittle, summoning tears. He seemed rabid as his dual-colored lips were flecked with foam and his eyes, usually so empty, shone wild with their whites. His tail thrashed and his heart burned. "I wanted a truce! I wanted to know you! But you made me... you made me..." Made him what? Stop caring? Stop wondering? How had this stranger had such an effect, how had she swayed him to compromise all his beliefs? She had turned him into the blindly violent fighter she'd described at the fight of the rift gods; Ashamin was exactly what she said he was, now, and she was nothing to him but a shadow. A jealous anger rose up within the paint, and the clawing bolts of his magic lunged. He hoped to tear her apart from the inside by speeding her heart rate, to bring her back to the ground and explode whatever cold stone rested inside her. She was just like Thranduil, that golden liar turning him into something he couldn't be. Thranduil had to have been wrong, even the Goddess of the Moon had to have been wrong, he wasn't this, he wasn't a monster, he wasn't... Wait! Lochan's voice rang in the haruspex's ears, echoing with reason. Listen, the cerndyr said. Ashamin looked to his companions, his large ears falling back at the sight of the fear on their faces. Even Rakt, so often stoic, appeared terrified. Lochan was right, the haruspex knew it. He had to listen. If Ashamin wanted to know who he was, he had to listen to the mare. Hastened by something like shame, the paint tried to pull back the destructive facet of his magic and instead utilize its gentler side, but given his panic he wasn't sure if he was quick enough to spare her completely. What he heard, then, was a sound he would never be free of. Her royal heartbeat, affected by pain, was loud and overwhelming. It overtook his senses and forced him to throw his head down, to toss one foreleg over his countenance and hide it from her injured strength. For a moment Ashamin thought that was all, thought that maybe it was the worst he could hear, but then there came the soft patter of a little death: the first casualty of Ashamin's lost heart. A second heartbeat, faltering and weak, became as clear to Ashamin as the blood upon the snow. He stared with horror at the ground, watching it spin and spread. Blackness threatened the edges of his vision, and everything else quieted. There was nothing but that heartbeat, so quiet, so small, until the moment it ceased to be. Then the world came rushing back. Ashamin stumbled backwards, shaking his head in wild agony, and his body teetered as if he might fall. His companions rushed forth, pressing their bodies against his panic to hold him up. "NO!" "" |
WC: 800/800 (wordcounter.net)
AP: 4/4
Permission from Odd to have Ashamin successfully hear her and the fetus' heartbeat
Featuring Lochan as Navi
Featuring wordcount as "why do I ever bother clearing this before I start writing a post it's always 800"
Featuring my heart as broken
Thanks Odd for letting me and Ashamin be a part of this <3
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
