White Wyvern Pt III: Carpe Diem

Misti || Palasa Flamen || Post Five

It was time. The sounds of the Chevaliers behind them caught Misti's attention, and the brown horse gritted their teeth, whirling to face the threat. Their spotted hindquarters tensed as one of the Chevaliers - a gray stallion with a scar across his nose - lunged at them, pike threatening their face. Misti ducked to the side, rolling out of the way as the pike came down, slashing viciously where they'd been only seconds before. Their heart raced insanely fast as they turned to face the enemy once again. Their blessing was tickling the back of their head, begging to be released. But no, they had to save themself for the big battle...this...was just the start. Still, they were unarmed, and their enemy was most definitely...not.

The pike whooshed past again, but this time Misti wasn't quite so fast. Pain, bright and red, sprang to their face, as their vision went suddenly dark on the left side, blood obscuring the left side of their face. The chestnut appaloosa cried out, ears pressed to their skull, as they ducked away from the scathing pike.

Their blessing roared to life. Flames licked at the stallion, as Misti ignited their whole body, the flash of fire lasting only a moment. But it was enough to singe the skin of their attacker, and they were happy to back a few steps away while the gray stallion recovered himself. Misti's teeth ground against each other as they circled the gray horse. Another slice for the pike. Misti rolling out of the way. They had to break this weapon! So, when the pike lunged for them again, Misti brought their jaws down on it, snapping off the blade, and leaving just a stick in the other horse's teke. The stallion reared up, throwing the broken pike aside, and used his dinner-plate sized hooves to land a few blows on Misti's shoulders and neck. The chestnut staggered, but remained standing.

Wishing they could see...anything...out of their left eye, Misti snarled, feeling the same anger and hatred rise up within them again. They lashed out, teeth snagging flesh as they attacked once more. The gray horse began backing away, tail swishing, as Misti went on the offensive.

WC: 374

As things began to unfold further, Lux's opinion that this was not a well-thought out plan was not changing. In fact, the more thought he put to it the less faith he had, which he found somewhat surprising as he had thought he'd already reached the 'no-faith' stage. How interesting. Somethings just didn't feel like they were adding up, but he hadn't the time to mull them over as much as he'd like, to pick apart the whole situation to the level he would have usually. Something didn't sit right, that much he was certain. Was it instinct? Bias? Something else entirely? He didn't know. 

What he did know that this was poorly planned. He'd nearly go so far as to say it wasn't planned at all, but the guard at the door put that theory in jeopardy. That side door hadn't seemed like an accidental congregation, the chevalier that escorted the group seemed like he'd been expecting that, but beyond that? It felt... improvised. That improvisation was thrilling perhaps, but hardly practical in games of kings and wyverns. There was enough planning in this group to sneak them into the palace, but not enough to bring weapons? He sincerely hoped that this was not more of that 'justice' and 'surrender' nonsense, that they would confront the King and he would yield because someone called him out on his crimes. Lux wouldn't have. If a group of horses appeared before him unarmed, or minimally armed, and demand his surrender he'd have laughed. 

At least he had an answer as to why he was tolerated, the outsider with the unknown allegiances. They weren't unknown. 

Lux wasn't entirely certain how he felt about that. 

He didn't respond, at least not intentionally, to the slave, instead just regarding them coolly. Telepathy was a strange and dangerous power that Lux was suddenly aware he did not know enough about. He did not know Jessiah's limitations, and as such he was vulnerable in his ignorance. It was not a particularly comforting thought and whilst the power was beneficial in the moment, it would not always be. Much like the (improvised) weapons many of them now carried it was beneficial, up until it was turned upon them. Lux was a private horse both by nature and of necessity; he knew his thought processes and conclusions would not always be 'popular' or 'correct', or could be misinterpreted. It was why he stayed a silent observer.

Still, he had an answer. It was better than none. 

He offered no solution for the guards at the bottom of the stairs, leaving it to the machinations of the others. The ember of his blessing sat within his being, he was not powerless, but he knew his limitations and he was not a martyr. His control of his Blessing was not perfect, and he was uninclined to offer it to the use of others. He didn't rely upon it himself, so to volunteer it to strangers seemed beyond foolish. 

It was not needed anyway. A distraction sufficed and suddenly the group was moving at a much swifter pace than they had before. The distraction would not last for long, and Lux was suddenly very aware of an impending pincer movement. They would need to be careful. ..as if they didn't already need to be careful. 

The ground to a halt in a ballroom, faced with a small company of chevaliers and with more closing in behind them. Out-armed and out-armoured, out-classed and out-numbered. As Lux stood in the ornate room, dressed in softly glittering finery, he couldn't help but feel.... amused. The absurdity of the whole situation was something else and were he not experiencing it himself he would have been inclined to believe that the tales had been subject to artistic hyperbole, were to be taken them with a pinch of salt. 

He had no fancy words, no inspiring phrase to utter as he settled his weight back on his hocks. His focus was now on survival, his survival, and not witty repartés or meaningful speeches. He was facing trained soldiers with nothing more than a dagger and basic self-defence training, he had priorities. 

Post #4
WC: 695

The others were engaging around him, but Lux didn't immediately clash with the chevalier that came towards him, instead hopping backwards to avoid the slash. He felt like it had been testing the water, he was fairly certain he could read confusion on their face - striking down a rebellious slave might have been one thing, but a noble? An advisor? He wondered if that was factoring in to their apparent hesitancy - Aodh's nobility laws were strict and likely ingrained into the psyche or many citizens. A war of priorities, upbringing vs training perhaps? Or maybe they were just surprised, underwhelmed by what was actually before them. They hardly fit the assumed description of those looking to overthrow the King.

Whatever they were thinking, Lux was definitely overthinking. Adrenaline was beginning to kick in, a rush he wasn't familiar with but wasn't about the shun. They came at him again, with more intent this time and Lux danced away again once more, reluctant to grapple with weapons when at such an obvious disadvantage. He was dimly aware of what the others were up to, dimly aware he needed to watch for more chevaliers coming in the same way that they had, dimly aware of a blade arching towards him.

Sharply aware of a slicing pain.

It was curiously numb at first; he saw the tip of the blade connecting with his side and he had enough time to be surprised at the lack of pain before it actually arrived. He hadn't realised there was a lag. Some distant part of him realised that he'd never been hurt before, not like this. He'd known stumblesa and bruises, accidental blunt impacts that would later leave a bruise and the odd twinge but never this. It was... strange.

It was a glancing blow, a long shallow cut that traced from the end of his ribcage up, ending just above his pelvis. Some instinct had had him shying away from the metal before he'd even realised what was coming and he'd nearly made it out of its reach, sparing him a grievous wound and leaving him instead with this one that stung incomparably, but that was hardly life-threatening. A few drops of blood fell to the ground where the stallion had been, but he himself had vanished. Once again relying on an instinct rather than conscious thought, his Blessing activated and Lux had vanished completely into the shadows before the sword could be brought about to do more damage.

He didn't linger within them for long, unfamiliar with the power despite having been born with it. He'd only recently learned to meld completely with shadows, had never tested the limits of what he could do within them and the middle of the battle with light crackling around from multiple other Blessings was hardly the time to be testing new proficiencies. There was a heavy noise permeating the air, many voices he realised belatedly, and the tang of blood for enemy an ally alike was drifting through the air. One of the chevaliers was dead, he realised.

His opponent realised this too and Lux capitalised on the moment of distraction, lunging forwards with the dagger in teke, slashing at his opponent's eyes. They fell away with a cry and Lux offered them no opportunity to recover as he swung for the unprotected junction between the jawbone and throat. He didn't hang around to see if the blow had been fatal - the chevalier was on the ground and would not be getting up any time soon, if at all. It might not have been the most honorable thing to do, but Lux had never cared much for the concept of an 'honorable' fight.

He was trembling, he realised as he turned his focus back to the main room, but it wasn't fear. The pain in his side only appeared when he thought about it, and there was a strange exhilarating energy settled in his muscles. He was aware that his breathing was quick, but his thoughts felt strangely slow, but not in a bad way. There was purpose to them, a singular focus when usually he was idly picking the world apart for something to be occupying himself with. It was refreshing. The world was changing around them and he realised he felt excited.

A surge of blue filled the room from nowhere and Lux found himself looking in spite of himself. The others were grappling, Isador himself was in the fight now if the flashes of grey were anything to go by and for a moment, Lux couldn't quite process what was happening.

"Solaris?" he caught himself asking, his mind connecting the gold and blue and gold with what it knew, even if it knew that was wrong. Solaris was dead, those wings could not be hers. 

Stranger things had happened though. 

He didn't allow himself time to dwell, wrenching his focus back at the cry of 'For Aodh!' He might not have lent his voice to the echoing rally, the result of a lifetime's habit of never raising his voice perhaps, but he could lend a blade. He threw himself back into the fray with more reckless abandon than he would have thought possible of himself, letting adrenaline drive his actions more than his mind. 

Post #5
WC: 880