|
|
Post by kajeayn on Mar 8, 2021 10:33:10 GMT -6
But there was no sound, there was only me in my disgrace.
June 6th, 1702, midnight. Remains of the Goldhead Pub. |
|
|
|
Post by kajeayn on Mar 8, 2021 10:36:58 GMT -6
J E S S I A H
post 1 | wc 382
The wyvern fell. They heard the terrible, echoing snap deep in her throat, echoing like a death knell. They couldn’t hear Sola’s thoughts, but they didn’t need to, to see the light go out of her eyes.
Even after the bloody fight, the blows she had given Jessiah personally, even having seen her eat equines in the past, something in their heart ached when the wyvern’s last breath rattled into the night.
Lying in the rubble Sola had created, Jessiah allowed themselves a brief moment to quietly mourn her. They could not bring themselves to pray to Ignacio, but they still hoped he took her somewhere without any pain.
Gold blood coated their front, hissing where it dripped over their overheated black coat, spattered against their skull. They’d been knocked aside, barely keeping themselves from hitting a wall, collapsing into a pile of smoldering rubble.
They held their furia form as long as they could. The blood splashed over them was hot enough to eat through their thinner, equine skin in moments. They had to remain in this form, as long as it took to cool. They quietly assessed themselves, wincing as they breathed in deeply, what were surely broken ribs creaking in protest as their lungs expanded. Beneath the gold, their forelegs ached from their earlier brief phase into equine form, when Sola had struck them the first time.
Gods, the first time.
They’d exchanged blows with a wyvern twice.
And now she was dead.
They’d helped end her life. The idea brought only sorrow, squeezing in their chest. Staring at Sola’s prone form, they felt no pride, no satisfaction. They hadn’t wanted death to be the end of any of this- but Sola had forced the matter. At the very least, Jessiah was grateful she was the only casualty tonight.
So far, at least.
Their head lifted in sudden surprise when Aleksei’s mind touched theirs briefly. Leaving. He was going. They were all fleeing.
A goodbye. An apology.
They felt the others, felt their fear and regret, and then they were gone, too. Within moments, they found themselves suddenly alone.
Bale vanished, his part done. Aleksei was gone. The others followed his lead.
And then they were alone, left behind in the burning rubble of the Goldhead with Sola’s remains.
|
|
|
|
Post by Luneby on Mar 10, 2021 12:46:02 GMT -6
 E U O N I A"Renunciation, total and sweet."
She was powerless, unable to return Ignacio’s gift against his own creation. Even if her destructive spears could do anything against those golden scales – could she have brought herself to do it, after having gazed into Lucius’ eyes? Could she have put harm towards the ancient creation of the god she loved? Soon, the wyvern would be the last of her concerns. She had cried in horror the second she saw Jessiah being thrown out of her field of vision by the creature. She called out their name as she failed to escape the battle and failed to do anything against Sola as boiling gold spilled over her feathers. She did not watch as the wyvern fell, limping her way towards where Jessiah had fallen while the group scattered away. She ran through pools of golden blood, eyes blurred with burning tears as she helplessly sought for them. She did not listen as the beast shrieked – her own ears deaf to the sound of anything but her own aching heart. She barely noticed when the others left, did not say a word. Her ragged voice called Jessiah's name, repeatedly. A single word that begged for an answer. She said called their name like a prayer, begging for a miracle. She finally guessed their form, another lifeless object among the debris. Visions of Vatros flashed before her eyes – a shaking Pandore, urging her towards a frozen Jessiah, boiling with fever – and a primal fear surged through her. She had almost lost them that day. She could not bear to see them wearing a deathly mask again. She would not allow it. She could not tell if they lived. Their head was but a flameless skull – empty orbits looked through her with no sign of conscious. “ Jessiah.” She murmured through a strangled sob. Mint green teke relentlessly pulled away rubble they were buried under as the mare’s breathing grew heavier. Soon, the Furia’s dark form was entirely revealed. Eyes wide with horror noticed they were burnt – and helplessly tried to tell where they were hurt. A sigh of relief escaped her, as she noticed the weak, ragged movement of their ribcage. They breathed. She did not dare to move them, and lay beside them, large wings softly covering the Furiah, so no one else would have to see them in their moment of vulnerability. She curled around them, silent tears streaming down her face. “ Jessie… can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”Utter disgust with herself rushed through her as she watched the poor, broken body. If only she could heal, she could have relieved them from their pain. She could have saved them. But she had no such gift, no way of doing anything for them but ripping fabric off her coat so she could bandage their wounds. If only she could fight. She could have protected them, then. She was uncapable of the spats of heroism her peers had displayed tonight, uncapable of protecting the ones she loved. She lay powerless before the great wyvern – but even more powerless before the suffering of the soul she cared about the most. She bit her lip as she busied herself with bandages. For the first time this evening, she found herself in prayer. Please, dear Sun. Don't let them ache. Don't take them away from me.
***
WC: 555| Post # 1
|
|
