[Set directly after this thread]

The short: Fucking Yikes™.

The long: Fucking. Yikes. Jeeez.

And now, the low-down:  I had thought before I was blind in one eye but, after everything was said and done, I was deaf and a dumb-fuck, too. I mean, I wouldn’t even be able to catch up for several nights, after replaying the scene in front of me over and and over again, catching the words and the hurt in everyone’s eyes in between a battle that ended up just being a clusterfuck of dragon fire and scales.

Chico climbed onto me, leaping on my back like a shot as the tall childwoman daughter of Earth bolted around us, going -26 to 100 real fucking fast as a shadow came up on us on the horizon. Her rapid shifts between emotions staggered me, the heat of her pure fury scalding my own boiling blood and shutting that shit down in its place. It wasn’t my role to get angry at that moment, I learned. It was hers and holy shit did she take to the role, learning her lines and her cues as she commenced to kick wholesale ass against the large, dark stallion she had glimpsed.
The baby-daddy in question, I guess. Y’know, because of the shrieking.

And there could’ve been a moment where I would’ve joined her, too. Ain’t gonna lie. Sparkmarrow was there at my chest and I could’ve dipped down and gripped the hilt and the fight would’ve been on. I could’ve joined the fray and that boy would’ve had more broke shit on his hands to worry about. Hmph, that boy. That child-murderer.

Except no, no, that woudn’t’ve been right. And I was too confused and shocked by how fast all this shit unravelled around us that I couldn’t act on that fleeting impulse, and that was a good thing. Cuz after watching the stud and his reaction and his eyes, those huge red things full of feels, weren’t the eyes of a child-killer.

Okay yeah sure, ‘What does a child-killer even look like’, you’re wondering. It ain’t like there’s an appendix for that kind of thing, or a standard or some shit, with prerequisites or whatever to look like an infanticidal bastard. This stud--he was huge and he clearly hit the gym and he had a Mr. Archibald-ish look to him--he was impressive in some ways I guess, but that didn’t make him any more or less qualified to kill a baby. He didn’t seem all that special.

But I guess--it was his eyes, man, and how they looked at her as he crested the hill, even before she was screaming actual hell-fire in his face. Eyes that said--Hey, you. There you are. Soft things, sappy things that hurt to chew one cuz they were so fucking sweet. Happy. A kind of small, pure happy that you can’t fake. Not like that.

The fight was on, anyway. Or...well, jeez, was it really a fight, though? I backed quickly out of the scope of it, Chico clinging to the cropped locks of my mane as he watched the scene unfold with his sharp amber eyes. Those dragons were tearing it up and I felt things lurching in Chico prompting him to join in, to help the bronze dragon because 2 v 1 is some old bullshit.

Not our fight, he had to keep telling himself.

Not our fight, I agreed, keeping my limbs frozen, even though I was already captivated and lost by the whole thing.

The fight between the horses was a different thing; it was more about words and it was super one-sided, because Kis Hollo (we finally learned her fucking name and it’s no wonder she didn’t want to share it because me and Chico both think it’s kinda dumb tbh) where was I? Oh, uh...Kis Hollo was just screaming things at him, kinda-sorta-talking about a baby she had had, a cousin running around somewhere, and how much of an awful fucking person he was, even as he was pleading with his own companions to stop their coonery while he tried to scramble up some shards of hurt she was inflicting with her words. I knew her mouth was a loaded gun, but by his breaking eyes alone--but I didn’t know the caliber or anything because this was a thing that was completely and utterly out of my control or expertise. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening.

It wasn’t until she indicated me--cocking her head my way, as though she were casually tossing the gesture like she was trying to be cool or whatever--and mentioned that I was a demigoddess too before things started to click. Collect all three, she said. “Uh--what?” I blurted on instinct, cocking my head at her, “The fuck?” My mind scrambled for a moment because a) I ain’t never thought of the demigods as any kind of relation to me, cousin or otherwise, because fuck that I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me and just because we all had gods for bearers didn’t automatically make us kin--and b) because, for just a few seconds, I forgot that the God of the Sun had a daughter, too, and I was ready to get super pissed if this fuckboy did some tragic doodlin’ with Mesec. But--oh, oh, I guess there are three daughters of the Gods, huh. And it looked like he had had two of them.

Oooooh, shit, Chico purred gurgled, crouching into my mane and gripping my neck with tight claws of anticipation. He was sinking his teeth real good into that meaty piece of drama.

I bit my lip and my tail clenched on an impulse at her suggestion. The idea of that dudebro behind me, on me, diddlin’ a thing gave me a sick, crawling feeling all over. The picture was getting clearer, though--and I identified one of the markers in her angry, broken voice. Betrayed.

But that didn’t explain nothin’ about killin’ no babies though.

I could’ve stood there and demanded some answers (“WHO KILLED THE FUCKING BABY”) but Chico was already leaping off my shoulders and gliding towards the bronze’s still, charred body. The decision was made, and I accepted it: it was time to stop this and neither of them were in any position, physical or mental or otherwise, to make that call.

“That’s enough,” I said, and I marched my ass right on in there, coming to stand in the magic-ruined space between the two of them. My gaze swiveled between them, wondering just how to judge this god-awful mess. Kis (dropping the Hollo cuz that’s dumb) maybe had probable cause to kick his ass, I dunno, I ain’t seen the full picture. But Kis was a demigod, too. She may have been hurt but I knew those were just scratches that were gonna heal in a matter of hours, maybe days, and she hadn’t even gotten the brunt of the attacks. That sorry bastard over there, though, Volterra--he was in some bad shape. He wasn’t moving anywhere anytime soon; I wasn’t even sure if it was safe. And I knew if I left them there then Kis would get her second wind, and Volterra wouldn’t have his dragons to fight in his stead for the next wave.

I guess the question was whether or not I was gonna let her kill some dude. A mortal that we were born to protect in the first place.

Jeez-Louise.  

Chico gently nosed at the dragon’s unconcious body, at Kis’ ruined face as I stepped over to her, standing before her, doing my best to block her line of sight of Volterra. “C’mon,” I said in a low voice--something stern, because I wasn’t fuckin’ around, but it wasn’t mean either, it was a soft prod away from this place. “S’time to go.” I didn’t know what to do about Volterra, man. It looked like that dude was gonna need a healer, but I didn’t know how to do that and I figured my first priority was to get Kis the fuck out of there before she actually ended up killing him.




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