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04-03-2017, 10:38 AM
Sunspear
Maybe she should have died when Gaucho did, maybe part of her had. What was the Sunspear now but a recluse among the sands? A watcher, a guardian, a phantom. Strong she was, and brave as ever but withdrawn as life seemed to march impassively on around her and leave her burred in the past. The Dragon's Throat had been her true home, ever would be; there was no rock or shrub of grain of sand that she did not recognize, that she did not love, but the faces that moved here now, the horses that trained and lived here were strangers to her.
She would guard them, she would serve them, but her friends had passed from the sands and she had no impulse in her to make new ones. Could she loose another Gaucho? Another Cera? Another Asavvi? The thought was daunting, unimaginable, abhorrent. She had her husband, had the children that remained to them, had Gwaihir, and where they were concerned she could not help but love. Perhaps she didn't need anything beyond that--didn't mean anything beyond that.
Her vigil today was kept not within the borders of her long-home but at the gate, above the grassy expanse near the Heart of Helovia. She soared low over the dunes, eyes sharp for anything amiss, anything that aimed itself with ill intent towards the Throat. She did not expect to meet opposition from behind; as far as Megaera was concerned she was a daughter of the Dragon's Throat now and forever. Gwaihir had taken it upon himself to seek out the roaming Castor today and so Meg had no second pair of eyes watching her back as she might normally have done.
The shout came as a surprise, as did the sudden jerk on her outstretched wing and a set of tiny teeth found their mark. The unexpected forward jerk sent the mare into an aerial tumble, loosing altitude even as she attempted to wrench herself free. She hadn't been flying at any great height and so the ground for the space of that moment seemed a greater concern than the little grey blur that had thrown her keeling off course. She let herself drop (less gracefully than she was used to) to the grassy lands of the Heart before searching with narrowed eyes for her attacker.
Meg's first thought was of a child, the grey stallion was surely small enough to be one, but he lacked the tell-tale fuzz of a colt from what meg could see. A Guardian of the "mighty Dragon's Throat" he'd said, and so Meg couldn't think why the young upstart had though it necessary to attack her.
"Peace, Guardian!" her shout was admonishing and as severe as her expression-both rather akin to the manner she adopted when reprimanding her rambunctious son for his bad behavior. The grass beneath her hooves rustled as she moved, trying to aim herself to face the little stallion. At her side the injured wing gave an painfully angry twitch. Several disrupted feathers were sticking out at and the joint was hot with the strain of the halfling's yank. "You attack without cause! If my key is needed I shall give it but perhaps you might have asked before trying to pull off my wing!"
---
Megaera concedes - will surrender her DT key.
WC: 547
@Pippigrin
FAC FORTIA ET PATERE
be brave and endure
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Megaera in all posts ::
