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03-15-2013, 05:37 PM
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But when his heart was lifted up, and his mind hardened in pride...
Quilyan
...he was deposed from his kingly throne, and they took his glory from him.
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Slowly, his senses returned to him. He remembered very little: the triumph that flooded through him as his hooves scraped the other stallion’s shoulder, the surge of pain that shot from his right wing through the shoulder, and then the ground was rushing up to meet him – When he wakes, the battle is over, and would seem that he had been left for dead. He supposes that the adrenaline of the free fall had blocked his mind to the various hurts, but from his position lying prone on the ground, he takes stock of his injuries. By far the most troubling is his right wing – it had been scraped to the bone, though it remains unbroken (thankfully). Still, if it is not yet infected, he is sure that it will be soon. The soreness extends through the entire wing and up into his shoulder. It worries him. Besides just that, there are scrapes along his right hindquarter, and bruises on his back where he assumes he was also struck. He takes a moment to thank the gods that he is alive, and then slowly rolls onto his stomach, gently pushes himself to his feet. A chirp is heard, and he flicks his auds; Zarina seems to be unharmed, though their bond is swamped by her worry for him. ”I’m alright,” he assures her, his voice an unconvincing rasp. She chitters unhappily. There is something nagging at the back of his mind, though, and he ignores her. Whatever the thought is, it refuses to form, and he wonders if perhaps his skull was cracked by the fall. ”Surely it would hurt more,” he mused softly, only to be scolded again by his bonded. Instinct tells him that he must get away from this place, and so he begins to walk. His left wing is drawn against his side tightly; the right is held more loosely. Each step sends a throbbing pain through the limb, and he knows that he must find a healer, and soon. He reaches the border of the Foothills and pauses, his cranium swiveling to look over the land sadly. And then, suddenly, he remembers. ”Shit.” Two bounding steps and his wings snap out, lifting him into the air clumsily. He grits his teeth against the screaming pain in his wing, and once he gains altitude, he focuses on gliding as much as he can. The marmoset entwined in his mane is berating him eloquently in a language that, for once, he is happy not to understand. Where would she have gone, his lovely Resplendence? Surely she would have known to leave the Foothills – surely she would not have remained. He wanders for a while before the pain forces him to the ground, and he cannot help an anguished groan as his wing folds against his side. He doesn’t know where he is, but the sight of her tail catches him off guard. Why in the world would she have fled to this place, with its musty light and its smell of death? She would be scared to death – unless… No, he told himself firmly. She’s not dead. Just scared. He presses on through the dim trees, trying to avoid the branches and nettles that had secured Resplendence’s glorious tail. He supposes he should be grateful for the trail, but instead he grows ever more fearful. Where is she? Finally – there. He is painfully aware, at that moment, that he looks horrendous. Dirt and blood has matted into his wing, hindquarters, and back, contrasting starkly with the pristine ivory pelt. When he looks at her, his violet orbs are haunted. ”Lady Resplendence,” he calls, and he is grateful that his voice seems to have regained its warmth. He takes a few tentative steps forward, slowly, wincing as he pulls his wings tighter against his body, a reflex after spending time with her. He stops a good distance from her, though he stretches forward as far as he can, inviting a touch of his maw to hers. ”My lady, please tell me you are alright?” |
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Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
