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Post by Lyrikitty on Dec 10, 2008 23:38:42 GMT -5
Quiet. So very quiet. It bore down like a weight on his chest, crushing him beneath it, slowly squeezing the breath from his lungs until it seemed he would die of it. The only sound to break it was the steady, endless lapping rythym of the sea, the salty waters reaching up to kiss the sandy shore and receed again. How he hated it, how he hated life, hated everything now. Dim green eyes shifted, turning to gaze morosely at the beast who lay at the edge of the water. His hide, so dark is was near black, the color of an oil slick, the light touching it just right to leave bronze hues, was becomming harder and harder to see in the dawning night. Only his eyes, those traitorous orbs, shone color, their blank stare looking out over the water unmoving, never changing. Though the shade itself was lovely, it was one that had come to be feared. The rich, luxerient gold that never spun, never swirled, never changed. A shade of death and destruction, for in the end, the final moments of life, that was all that would be. J'kal shuddered, turning away from the sight of what had ocne been his greatest friend, his most loved and cherished one, his Nuath. It was hard to even look at the dragon and link it to the name, for his Nuath would never have attacked him. Would never have tried to kill him.
No... This wasn't his Nuath. That dragon had long since died, had been replaced by this silent, danerous brute who stared vacantly at the world, waiting, watching. What went on in that dark abyss of a mind? Was there even anything there? To look into those golden pools was to look into nothing, a pretty face for a blank slate at best. His brown hair swung to cover his eyes, greasy tendrils clumping together as they hung limply in his face. No hand lifted to move them, for it was a comfort, his veiw blocked finally, and his eyes able to shut. Ah... Sweet, blissful darkness, nothing to disturb him here, not even the voice of-
His eyes snapped open, balefully looking up at the darkening sky. Why? Why? He wanted to scream at the clouds, demand that his Nuath be given back. But... Once more he found his gaze dragged to the Bronze, looking at the stoney figure that hadn't moved for the past three hours. Only the slow rise and fall of his sides as he pulled air into his lungs and expelled it again showed life. It wasn't fair. He could feel his own sanity sliding away, the further that the dragon went into the illness now known as Rouge, the weaker J'kal was finding himself, more and more prone to lashing out. Would it never end?
While J'kal sat and thought, while he pined the loss of the Bronze, though the true end had yet to come, the beast lay, his paws dipped into the ebb of the tide, the water's sucking greedily at his claws only to leave with nothing mor than they came with, the sand beneath his belly still warm from the day. Only his lungs and heart moved, those involuntary actions the only sign of life, the only proof that the dragon was not a well-carved statue of fine stone but indeed a living beast. He'd risen from his ledge today, for the first time in near a month. What had caused it was unsure, byut at the sign of movement, all save the one man, J'kal, had fled. Not J'kal. No, the fool had looked up at the beast hopefully, and ventured closer. When the Bronze remained still, the man had mouted the beast. ?What drove either of them to such things was unknown, for no link remained in their minds, nothing of their former bond was even hinted at now.
With not a word, not a sound, not a single hint at thought of warning, the Bronze had stepped off his ledge, his great wings unfurling and stroking the air mercilessly, aloft for but a heartbeat, and then gone. So far as anyone in Crystal Cavern Weyr knew, they had Betweened the first case of Rouge to resolve itself peacefully. If only. No, the Bronze Nuath had chosen himself a new location to lay, one that was warmer, one with soft sand beneath him. The beach, one located in a cove just outside Talune Weyr. What cause was there to hunt down such a place? For this beast, none was needed. No, once he had spotted the little nook he wished to occupy, he'd landed, his legs folding beneath him to let his bulk rest on the sands, not noticing as J'kal slid off, looking around almost confused. Poor man, he'd not had a clue as to what was going on, but Nuath did. Strangely, he knew that tonight was his last, he would not live to see the dawn. When Rukbat next kissed this shore, at most it would unveil the limp corpse of the Bronze. Not that he was terribly young, but had he not taken ill, he'd a long life before him yet. Aged seventeen turns, the man who once rode him thirty-eight. Though none of that mattered now. What mattered was the dim light that slowly flickered deep in the Bronze's eyes, as if perhaps some sign of life weas returning.
But woe, for that flicker, that miniscule spark, was deadly, held in it more malice and unrestrained hate than any Black, Amber, or Cyan could muster in a lifetime. Slowly, his head turned, his gaze falling onto J'kal coldly, icy waves sweeping out from him in an almost palpable aura. He was close.
Not far down the beach, but secluded and well protected form notice of the Bronze and the man, sat another pair. Earlier in the day, they had been called away fromt he Weyr to go and check Nusa for greenery. While the situation had been handled, and in the process Typhith searcing out his first, and likely only, candidate ever, it had taken longer than F'st would have liked. Still, they had made it back by early afternoon, and as soon as they'd reported to D'ron and Varanth, they'd taken off for the beach. For hours they had been sitting, F'st's pale skin slowly taking a crimson burn where it was exposed, and Typhith irritably swatting at waves. It seemed, now with the sky darkening, that Tain and Mistith were no different. They were like every other demented mind that the Emerald and rider had met. Sick, twisted, and cruel. Hopes of friendship had been built, only for them to be dashed painfully against rocks. They should have known. It was too good to be true, that lovely Green and her beautiful rider...
F'st lay with his eyes closed on the sand, his hands resting behind his head as he tried to fight the pain. How could he be so foolish as to think for even a moment he had found a friend, maybe more? He and Ty were unwanted, they were freaks, nobodies. And Tain... She was... It was hard for him to say, really. She was beautiful, but that word seemed to fall short, lacking in real description of the woman. Incredible, unbelievable, amazing... No, those too seemed unable to capture her. he only word that could dream of comming close, but still failed miserably, was perfect. It simply wasn't fair. He didn't deserve to so much as look at the very ground she walked on, let alone allow his mind to wonder what would happen if indeed Typhith caught the tiny Mistith. It was wrong, so wrong...
Ty sighed, his head resting on his paws, eyes tainted with sadness. He'd so hoped the little Green really liked him, for he was utterly smitten with her innocence, her sweetness. For a moment, he let his mind reach out to F'st, searching the man's thoughts hopefully, to find no more expectation than he himself held. It was time to admit it. Time to face the fact that Tain and the wonderous Mistith were not going to show up, that Typhith and F'st had been made fools of. With a grunt, he heaved himself to his paws, standing for a moment with his head hung low. It was a shame, but alas, it seemed to be their fate. Life would offer what seemed a great joy, just to snatch it away and laugh mercilessly, taking pleasure in their dejection.
The pair should be used to it by now, for their entire life together had been composed of nothing but rejection. Forced out of Typhith's hatching Weyr, taken in by Talune only because he was of some use in the wings... Rejection and defeat were nearly allt hey knew, so... Why did this one hurt so much?
The Emerald lifted his head, looking at his rider for a long moment, then stepped closer, gently placing his muzzle on F'st's chest and letting his warm breath wash over the man in a comforting wave. //F'st... MineOwn... It is time we face the truth. Let us go back to the Weyr and hide our shame. I'll not drag you off for anymore meetings of new people or dragons...// He spoke carefully, knowing how tender and painful this was to be, not only for him, but for F'st. Of the two, it was F'st who was the most pained, the most closed off. F'st was the one who watched silently from the shadows, who removed himself from social groups to hide his face. Yes, Typhith was a bit tenetive to start friendships, but he would try, at times, a part of him hoping to open his rider up to the world.
F'st lifted a hand to place it on the Emerald's nose, though he didn't open his eyes. "I know Ty... I know. It isn't your fault, dear friend." He remained as he was, not moving, and Ty stayed just as still, only the waves of air that poured from his nostrils to bathe F'st and stir the sand around his lightly were signs of life.
When F'st finally had the heart to rise, he sat, Ty's muzzle never leaving him, and the Emerald gave a small nudge, carefully lifting the man to his feet. They should go, head back to their emtpy weyr and sleep, perhaos the morning would prove better, would lift their spirits some. But... Neither found the courage to move. F'st's arms wrapped around the silky muzzle of the Emerald, clinging to the only friend he'd ever known, while Ty let the tender embrace, so rare an act, go on. He'd stay here, for just a little bit longer. Then... Then they would go home, if one could call it that.
Word Count: 1899
Character: J'kal of Nuath (NPC); F'st of Typhith
Notes: Fwee!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Post by Onyxaeon on Dec 11, 2008 1:22:08 GMT -5
Just try to ruin her delight:
It's a difficult endeavor.
She doesn't walk, she's always prancing,
Only when she isn't dancing.
Share your world, she'll make them lighter.
The future's bright but she is brighter.
.:/Tain/.::.\Mistith\:. It had been a case of equal sorrow that had found the Green and her young rider all throughout the day that had been so carefully planned, the whole day's events pondered over for the entire portion of the time they had been at work during the day. It had been the only thing that kept their minds occupied from the fact that they should have met F'st and Typhith close to two hours ago once all their new duties had been carried out, because the wingleader didn't frankly care whether or not Tain and Mistith had some place to be or not. No, instead they were assigned to remedial tasks that could have waited for a few more days, if not several sevendays. It was true, yes, they had not been settled so patiently upon the beach for as long as Typhith and His had. Had not they been dragged away by their other, unexpected duties such as a pointless firelizard hunt for Nusa's pompous Lord along with their watch duty and an added Search, though, they would have been on time. As the list grew and the time remaining within the day dwindled, they forced up the vast amount of energy to gather up enough courage to face the two bonded. It was evident in their features as they landed, how they were thoroughly ashamed for their tardiness, yet also hopeful that it would not matter to the two because the day was still semi-young and they had ample time still to play about and enjoy the other's company.
That whole painful mess and series of jumbled thoughts aside, Tain had dearly and honestly promised Mistith, the Green so worried that the two would not bother to come in the first place, that they would still be there when they arrived at the sheltered nook where Tain's directions yesterday should have led the Emerald and his rider. When the minutes began to fade and churned over into hours and Mistith was forced to land from fatigue-she was after all a Green, and their stamina was nowhere near what Typhith's or any other larger dragon's would be-their spirits began to dampen if not shatter entirely. Where were they? Surely they had not gotten lost for, just as the new weyrlings had been, F'st and Typhith had received the locations of every place around Talune, so the thought that they had ended up in the wrong spot was ridiculous, impossible. Or, was it really? They could very well be, and that was the only thought that kept Mistith from possessing what was easily the saddest sight on all of Pern. Her maw wore a pitiful, saddened frown, her eyes bled away to the darkest shade of sorrow with no sign of the optimism and light that claimed a permanent residence inside her heart. That same light she had hoped to guide Typhith into and to show just how different the world was in her eyes, that people did care and could love him. That same light was gone, though, burnt out like a candle with too short a wick to burn any longer. And with that feeling came another, a wretched, damnable disgust for herself, for she was lower than the sand her dainty clawed paws were walking upon. It was all her fault; she had not been certain enough in her words, and Typhith had taken offense to her actions last night. Stupid, stupid, Green! The mental chastising only continued, and she could no longer disconcern who she really was at the moment. She had fallen into the darkest depth of between and was endlessly scrambling to climb out of the abyss, stumbling aimlessly through the soft, sandy shores of one of Talune's many beaches with Hers loyally beside her and fairing no better.
Where was the mighty soldier that had once stood, so defiant and stubborn? Where was the boundless enthusiasm for living that ebbed and flowed from the young rider to a point where she was the spring, the source, of nearly fictional enjoyment? Ah, but she was gone. The rejection and pain lit the embers of her eyes, the normally radiant irises gone almost pale, it seemed, in their loss of life. Why, she was no better than dead at the moment. Being forevermore the caretaker, she had tried to reach out to everyone and anyone, and F'st and Typhith fell into that category. When they had attempted to get through, however, they had been denied, and that hurt far more than any physical blow could ever possible manage to be inflicted upon them. Not like either would feel it at the current moment, though. No, shattered and empty hearts felt no pain and broken spirits knew no such thing as joy. Somewhere, a bugle was sounding just for them.
A struggled sigh brushed past Tain's lips as she mournfully ambled on, dead to the world as her vision was only on the ground before her feet where she would next step, yet, she did not know where she was headed, for no road led to anywhere at the moment. Why they were still here at all, wasting their time on two beings who did not care, was a mystery; it was pointless and deeply absurd. They weren't coming, never intended to, and Mistith, too, seemed to realize this, for she trudged on as though there were honestly nothing more to really live for. It shouldn't hurt this much; neither should feel as though a tormented, aching hole had been ripped in their chests. But they did, and now they couldn't possibly hope to walk that path again. The wound was too deep, too damnably painful. A final step graced the soft sands before Tain dropped down to her knees, rebellious curls falling to veil her face. Slowly, Mistith padded toward her, neck reaching down to hold her Mine's distant gaze. "Mistith...dear Mistith...," Tain whispered ever so gently, eyes brimming to the surface with a faint touch of unshed tears. So easily broken. "Lead me away, or leave me lying here." A faint, almost inaudible croon touching the chilly air to comfort Hers.
Come, Mine. Climb on, please. It's time to go home. We can get some sleep, and things will seem better when- The Green had to pause, her orbs turning a curious shade as her rider's head had tilted upward, the beginnings of excitement stirring the all but lost embers of the fire her eyes normally held. When the grin lit her face, Mistith had to turn around to view what had caused the shift in Hers, but it did not take long for her to figure out just what had been the cause. She could see the outline of a large dragon and rider just off two Green lengths away, the shadows of the night claiming everything but their outlines. Before Mistith knew it, she was bounding after Hers.
"There you are! Shards, man, we've been looking everywhere for you! Mistith and I had almost given up-" Tain skidded to a halt, Mistith almost slamming into her but instead digging her feet into the sand to halt her delighted prancing. That definitely wasn't F'st or Typhith, or anyone else she knew, for that matter. What was a Bronze and his rider doing seated on a beach in the middle of the night, anyway? "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her eyes dulling rapidly and, with it, her hopes plummeted. "I-I just thought you were someone else. I'm sorry to bother you. The both of you. We'll just turn and be out of your hair."
Word Count: 1309
Notes: AHHHHH! That was sad. =*( |
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Post by Lyrikitty on Dec 11, 2008 9:21:42 GMT -5
As the Green and her rider bounded up, their joy bubbling ahead of them like a torrential rain, the Bronze and the man stood still. As still as stone, as still as a statue. Their eyes were locked, the molten eyes of the dragon never wavering, filling to the brim with desire. Yes, desire, but of a sort no creature should ever feel. He wanted to hear someone scream, to hear a dragon cry out, beg salvation, beg mercy, while he lorded over, while he was in control. Sand sprayed up, thrown to the air by the Green's quick stop, and the Bronze turned his gaze slowly, his large head swivelling to look at her. Yes... She would do. She would be the perfect victim for the begginging of the end. His tail gave a twitch, the dark, oily looking hide rippling as muscles gew taut. But wait... Why attack? Why lurch foward and chance her getting away? Perhaps there was some other choice, some other way? No words could be used, for his mind was a blank to all, even to himself many times, but actions... His head snaked on the sinewous neck as he tried to think, his mind muddled by thoughts of blood, of gore, of pain, and of sweet, blessed releif. His jaws parted slightly in a soundless growl, his tongue running over the jagged teeth. Had this little creature a clue of what she'd stumbled apon? Did she realize that her demise was lingering above, waiting for it's cue to drop onto her head?
One paw lifted from the sand, and his torso turned,facing them calmly, coldly, his golden eyes never flinching or wandering. Yes, he would have to be careful, swift, or this little fool would get away.
As the Bronze beast prepared himself, the man turned dim eyes tot he woman, hi shoulders sagging in defeat. All was lost for him, and he knew what was to come, could feel the stirrings in his gut, the same passiontate hate, the desparate need to hear another scream in pain as their life ebbed away like the flow of the tide. It was wrong, so very wrong, he knew, but there was nothing left to be done. Nothing save for give in. And that was just what he did. The part of the man that was J'kal crumbled, collapsing under the weight of the loss of his beloved Nuath, the sight day after day of dragon eyes stained gold, the endless torment of knowing that his dragon was gone, that the beast who he sat by day afterday was just that, some beast, thoughtless, mindless, dangerous. For a moment his face fell slack, the muscles relaxing their hold, his jaw sliding down in a blank expression, until Nuath's movement caught his eye. Ity brought back, in appearance, the man, for his face tightened again, his jaw clenching as did his fists. He could almost feel Nuath now, but it was too late, both were gone.
J'kal stepped foward slowly, one booted foot sinking into the sand after another, stepping closer to the woman, to pleasure, one hand extended almost welcommingly. Neither seemed able to speak, and to try and touch the mind of either of them was to find nopthing but blackness that could rival even the cold nothingness of [/i]Between.
As J'kal made a mild approach, the Bronze surged foward, no warning, not hint, at the action, simply a blur of motion as he flung himself at the Green, his claws feet digging into the sand and churning it, his wings reaching out to sweep at her, his goal to ensnare her in them, for pain was of little import to him now, his mind so far gone it would likely not register for some time, and by that point, he was sure to be dead. Even as he moved with speed that no Bronze should ever possess, his jaws parted, neck arching up in a delighted curve, from the deep hollow of his throat came a low sound, a gutteral growl that rippled through his entire being. This felt right, felt good.
J'kal, spurred by the attack launched by the large Bronze, lunged foward as well, though surely his speed was far less impressive, his booted feet having to work throught he sand that sucked greedily and tried to bog him down. Ah, no matter, he would get the woman. Even in the darkening night, he could she she wasn't unattractive. The curve of her body cried to him, begged to be violated, and for him to be the one to do it. Who was he to deny? From his lips bubbled a laugh, a warped, demented sound that accosted the ears wretchedly, the laugh of a man who's lost more than everything, who's watched everything he loved slip away into a painful end, and followed after headfirst. His green eyes, still dim, still oddly empty, sparkled as the light of the moon touched them, revealing for the short span just how mad he was, how far gone the man was. It made one wonder, what would be seen int he eyes of the dragon? If this was how the man looked, his pale skin, eyes ringed with dark circles, his lips parted to let a malevolent laugh spew forth, what would the countenance of the Bronze be?
Ina nswer to that, light tickled his features, the dark hide, almost black even mid-day with an oily, metallic sheen, played over his face, over the eyes that glowed gold, the lips parted, teeth hungery for flesh. Wretched beast, horrid beast. Frightening beast.
Word Count: 1005
Character: J'kal of Nuath (NPC)
Notes: *shudders* I think I may have to make me a very violent color now... I rather miss this sort of thing. I'll bring Ty and F'st back in shortly, but for the moment they are kinda out of the picture.[/size][/color][/font]
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Post by Onyxaeon on Dec 11, 2008 17:02:20 GMT -5
Just try to ruin her delight:
It's a difficult endeavor.
She doesn't walk, she's always prancing,
Only when she isn't dancing.
Share your world, she'll make them lighter.
The future's bright but she is brighter.
.:/Tain/.::.\Mistith\:. It was always believed by the Green and her rider that, no matter what one had done, no matter what utterly foolish thing they could have said or thought, no matter their past or current station, everyone was generally good in nature. The past helped to shape a person, certainly, to mold them and form the outer shell for what was the building blocks of someone's personality, but that did necessarily mean that the outline could not be broken. It was far too flimsy, the thin membrane that kept the corrupted corrupt and the saviors blessed, yet there was no fine line that existed between the two. No matter how one saw it, one way or the other, it was simply black or white. There were no gray areas but such a vast amount of room for misinterpretation that it was impossible to not stumble across it once or twice in a lifetime. Was not that the beauty of it all, though? Did not it allow for someone to immediately make it apparent where another stood just from a first, passionate glimpse into the very darkest corners of their hearts? No, not in the least; the shadows saw to it that a clear view was impossible, unbelievable and so far fetched it was as absurd as Faranth herself rising from the grave. Everything had become tainted in the perpetual abyss, the shadow's icy grip from an unmerciful hand tightening around the fear soaking through to the very marrow of the bones as easily as blood poured from an upon would until, like a balloon too filled with water, it burst and the droplets, the seeds of doubt, splattered onto the earth, staining whatever they came in contact with. That was what lingered, pacing back and forth, a wild feline settled behind aged metal bars that were hanging by the last, single hinge of the cage doors. It was too late; they had already run headlong and willingly into their demise, though ignorant of who and what they were dealing in.
Mine, I don't like this....Something isn't right. I've never seen such a shade in another's eyes.The dainty Green shrunk back slightly, her hackles on end and her nerves beginning to curl in warning. A nagging, gut feeling was telling her to to turn tail, gather Hers, and run. Fly as far as she could manage before her wings had strained themselves beyond breaking point and she crashed from the sky in the greatest form of fatigue, her body landing with a dull clap of thunder as the impact struck her flesh. A shudder seized the Green's frame, talons flexing instinctively as her pinions gradually unfurled, lithe body tensing under the glistening moonlight as it reflected upon the forever pulling and rushing waves. Something about the Bronze...It did not settle well with her. He was not well, perhaps angered for their intrusion into his moment of peace? They should go...But, wait. What was the rider doing? For a minute, Mistith watched as Hers was reached for with a tentative hand, the rider's smile friendly, almost, as though he were beseeching her to join them. No! Mine, don't! Don't you dare take one step toward him. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, Mine. Please, lets leave. I don't like it here with the two. Tain's concerned eyes went to her skittish Green, the petite being shifting nervously back and forth from one foot to the next. She was distraught, certainly, but Tain could not yet see...Shards!
Mine!In one, liquid motion, only a fraction swifter than the Bronze Nuath, Mistith had launched at Hers, her wings sweeping the knock Hers away from the attacking male rider. Her Mine rolled a good four meters away in the sand, springing up the moment she had landed, it seemed, scrambling to her feet and watching as her dragon snarled, eyes a violent, crimson shade as her wings extended, flaring out to show that she was not going to watch Hers die, not fall victim to the Bronze whose eyes were tainted with the desire of cold blooded murder. No, she would perish first. A defiant, thundering roar screamed from the depths of her throat, neck extended with jaws parted to reveal ivory fangs. Don't you DARE touch her!
Word Count: 748
Notes: Bleh. >.< Terrible. But, I owed a reply, and I could not wait. Sowwy there. |
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Post by Lyrikitty on Dec 11, 2008 22:10:57 GMT -5
Typhith's head snapped away from F'st's gentle, needing embrace, his eyes rapidly whirling curiosity and concern. That sound... It had sounded almost like... No. It couldnt be. That sounded like a furious, terrified cry, one that came from a being who though he knew little of, was dear to him. For a moment he stood still, head lifted, gaze unclear as he tried to peel away the darkness of the landscape to see. It was futile, but he knew that sound, and though he had never heard it in his life beofre, and prayed to never hear it again, his gut told hi it was Mistith. Something was very wrong. //Mine, get on now. Draw your beltknife, I fear the worst.// The Emerald crouched, though it was hard to bring himself to get close to the ground when what he wanted most was to leap to the air and attack whatever had drawn that cry forth.
F'st was confused for a moment, sure he'd heard the roar, but what about it had been so special? Only when Typhith's thought leaked into his own did he understand, and if the Green was in danger, that meant that Tain was as well. "No, Ty to the sky. Find them, they can't be far. I'll run. If there is trouble, we are better in numbers." Before he could give the beast a chance to respond, he spun, racing into the darkness in the direction he knew that sound had originated.
Typhith growled, but obediently threw himself into the air, his wings scarcely making a sound as they pummeled the air to keep him aloft, to bring his through the dark sky low and fast, and apon the attackers and his Green. Yes, his. It was odd that he was so possesive, so protective, but that was the thought that came to his mind when thinking of the dainty, lovely little creature. Where were they? He could see F'st, the man was making good time, his speed faster than Ty had remembered him able of, though adrenaline pounded in his veins, pushing him on. Grudgingly the Emerald admitted F'st had made sense in sending the dragon alone to the sky, and as he mulled it, mulled the possible outcomes of what he was to find, nothing could have prepared him.
The Bronze skidded to a halt, spinning in the sand as his haunches sank beneath him to let his pale teeth click shut in the air where only seconds before Mistith's slender, graceful neck had been. Ah, too late. Perhaps that miss would have detered hyim, oerhaps, if not for the Green's next act. She raised her voice in defiance, in challenge! Who was he, a beast among beasts, to let it go unanswered? the little GReen thought her pitiful self enough to stop him, or even the man who once was his rider? Bah! Nuath gave his head a shake, his jaws snapping again, the click of fangs the only audible sound he made.
The man had to slidfe to a stop as well, or risk running into the Green. While such a thing would prove no obstacle to the Bronze, the man was smaller than him, and so waited, watching the woman and utterly ignoring the dragon. He had no use for the Green, that was for Nuath to take care of. It was the woman, her frightened eyes, that held his attention.
The pair stood for but a moment, before they split, each taking different directions around the Green. She would only be able to keep her attention on one, and of the two, the Bronze was the most dangerous.
His tail twitched, his wings mantling like those of a hawk as he stakled through the sand, his head weaving like a snake ready to strike. He would give the Green no choice, she would perish under his claw and tooth, if not be crushed under his weight. He lunged again, his great wings sweeping out in the same action as before, but this time... This time he didn't stop, this time he didn't play at her, didn't leave a moment for her to escape, and he swatted his forepaws, his neck lurching foward as well. He wanted to catch her on all angles, but his paws only made contact with a dull thud, the claws missing thei mark, but undoubtably leaving what would be painful bruises on her sides, even as his wings came crashing down apon her, and his teeth searched eagerly for her blood.
While Nuath was at the Green, J'kal closed the distance between him and the woman, his empty eyes huanting, eerie, dangerously dead tot he world. What sort of being could live for even a heartbeat with eyes like his? In an instant, his own beltknife was out, the moonlight dancing over the jagged blade. Yes, he was never one to keep his tools keen, for such a thing, if used in a fight, made better cuts when the blade was dull and messy. A clean, smooth cut would heal well, where-as a jagged one was prone to infection, to festering and becomming more and more painful. He would, given even a moment of opportunity, cut this woman wide open, lay her belly open to watch her iontestine spill to the sand in a steaming heap!
This was the scene that the Emerald found as he came to the Green, and his eyes flashed dangerously, their hue intense reds, fury emanating from him in all manners. His wings furled as he dove at the Bronze, not caring at all that the act would do harm to himself, for even as the ground came near, he remained in the dive. His jaws parted, and from them spilled a snarl that no dragon of Talune would have ever heard or witnessed. Even as the Bronze tried to tear into Mistith's flesh, the Emerald slammed into the beast, the crack of bone undeniable, though of who it was hard to say. At the last possible second Typhith's wings had spread, slowing him only barely, though in effect his goal had been to knock Mistith away, to a safer distance. He would allow no harm to come to her for solong as he was able to move, no matter if she was truely his or not. The tangled mass of Bronze and Emerald writhed, each striving to gain their feet, each struggling to collect themselves after that impact. As Ty rose from the sand, it was obvious that at least part of the cruncho fbone had come from him, for several of his wing-bones were sitting at odd angles, visable even in the night's ill lighting.
However, it was the Bronze beast who'd born the brunt, having cushioned Typhith's crash somewhat. As the dragon struggled to his paws, he wheezed, his sides heaving, shattered ribs pricking at his lungs dangerously, threatening to puncture them and drown the demon. No less than he deserved, but his eyes shifted warily from the Green to her protector, and back again, furious to be disturbed, and pained to even draw air into his lungs. With a low hiss, he surged foward, and Emerald and Bronze collided again, both dragons rearing to their hind legs and clawing at eachother, battering the other with their wings, snapping with sharp teeth. A side of Typhith that none thought existed had emerged in full, the true colors of an Emerald in his every act, the dangerous, furious creature that seeked blood, that could prove a violent beast with no sense of pain or mercy. Mistith had been attacked, whethere or not blood had been drawn from the little Green, this Bronze would pay with his life, or with Typhith's.
It was to this scene, two dragons clashing together, each with a single-minded hate for the other, each trying to pull the other down, knock them off their paws, anything to gain an advantage. His gaze was torn away though by the man and Tain, and his heart was wretched. He should help Ty, but could he willingly leave Tain on her own? With the glint of metal in the moonlight, he knew he couldn't. Ty would want him to do what he could, and the state of mind the Emerald was in... If F'st tried to interfere, if only to help his lifemate, it was possible he'd be harmed as well, fatally. No, it was better to go after the man, to aide Tain, while Ty dealt with the smaller Bronze. Forcefully he tore his eyes away from his beloved dragon, and charged at the man, drawing his own blade comming to an abrupt halt slightly ahead of Tain. He knew this man... Knew him well, as a matter of fact. This was the Weyrleader of Crystal Cavern Weyr, the Bronze then, was the large Nuath... What had happened? What could have- Rouge. Quickly he glanced to check the color of the Bronze's eyes, and found as he'd expected the golden hues of the wretched illness. A cruel fate for anyone, and one that this pair had never deserved, but F'st knew what was to be done. Though he himself had never dealt with Rouge, he knew what was to be done, and a gruesome task it would be, though it seemed Ty had no qualm in the matter, for the dragon was not fighting with any restraint, and the tear of hide was audible, as were the sickly splashing sounds of ire that seeped from the wounds inflicted by claws and teeth.
Word Count: 1673
Character: F'st of Typhith, J'kal of Nuath (NPC)
Notes: *shivers with glee* Mmm... I always loved the violent ones, if only for little fights. This one is heavenly.
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Post by Onyxaeon on Dec 12, 2008 0:01:37 GMT -5
Just try to ruin her delight:
It's a difficult endeavor.
She doesn't walk, she's always prancing,
Only when she isn't dancing.
Share your world, she'll make them lighter.
The future's bright but she is brighter.
.:/Tain/.::.\Mistith\:. Mistith's murdering orbs pivoted back and forth in their sockets, the most menacing of hisses spilling continually from her maw as she attempt to watch both the dragon and his rider at once. She knew nothing of this, of Rouge or what it entailed, and she could not fathom how one dragon and his bonded could become so utterly violent to one of their own kind, and how their minds could so converge to the same, vicious thought in the space of not even a second. None of that mattered, though. Hers was in danger, and she was the only one there to protect her unarmed rider. Unlike most riders who always had something on hand, whether it was a beltknife or another form of weapon, Tain rarely bothered with a beltknife though it was a tangible object she dearly wished she was in possession of at the moment, for she was a sitting duck in the worst possible manner.
Mistith receded, trying to cover as much ground as possible and still keep both of them in view. Her wings spread wide, extending to deter the rider from coming any further, because she would lunge for him if he had gone for Hers despite the fact the Bronze was much more of an opponent. The man would be easier killed than the Bronze; she was not foolish enough to think she could even come close to killing the much larger beast but, perhaps she could hold him off long enough for Hers to escape, for her rider to run as far as she possibly could and head for the cover of the nearby forests where his great size would not allow him to follow. Mistith snapped angrily at the air, flashing her teeth to J'kal. It was evident she knew her own power: with one snap of her jaws she knew she very well could sever the tendons and bones that connected various limbs together to the main core. If he even dared to come close enough, she would rip him piece by piece and let the gulls feast on what may remain of him in the morning. But her chances were depleting with each passing second, every moment she took to charge, her survival rate plunged. She wouldn't live if the Bronze hit his mark, his weight would crack the vertebra in her spine and the marrow would course through to her heart and, in its own way, short circuit the organ, but that never held any significance as, just before J'kal and Nuath began to lunge, another challenging roar seized control of her vocal chords and she lifted herself onto her hind legs to gain some height to measure up to the Bronze as his body connected with hers.
Did angels cry? Did they mourn for those they guarded over, crying out themselves at the injustice of the world when they stood with their hands tied, screaming till their voices grew raw from the force of their choked sobs, "It's not supposed to go like that!" If that there eyes had but observed the scene before, their ears gifted the chance to hear the siren call that was Mistith's voice, stained with pain as the Bronze shifted bones from their joints and tore through ligaments, there was not a question to exist of would they. In a snarling mass of blood thirsty desires and unmeasurable pain, Mistith tried to free her broken body, wings flailing beneath the crushing weight of the Bronze as her tail slammed repeatedly into his side and her jaws tore into his shoulder with her claws finding their place into the confines of his flesh. Perhaps the pain would blind him, his crimson gaze turned away from her lifemate long enough for her to take off, to flee. But the stubborn soul would not back down, neither would give the satisfaction of such a thing, and so they met their fate headlong. With Mistith entangled in a writhing mass of limbs and green ichor as it spilled from the open gash Nuath's fangs had gifted her tiny body, the blood loss alone a certain death, and Tain so tensed and ready to spring as physical combat her only choice for escape, they knew they were ready. Death could come swiftly and they would meet it without regret and without sorrow.
Or, so they would have.
As if delivered from the hands of those helpless angels, Typhith's chorus of blatant, vehement refusals sang through to touch Mistith's very bones in late relief. He had come after all! But that was of little importance t the dying. Whatever excuse was given, it could wait until they met in the glorious embrace of between, the Bronze would see to that at least one would die this very night, but it was not to be Typhith or his, for they could defend themselves and one another. No, only she had failed.
The impact and force of another body piling onto the lot, the weight Bronze Nuath's wings slamming into her body at the precise moment Typhith had into his, sent the Green's vision spiraling, stars dripping green ichor clouding her vision as her body had been freed from the bulk of the mindless beast, his attention to the bigger threat. The only threat. Would that Typhith would save Hers, because she could not bring herself to stand, her sides twitching as the muscles spasmed, infection seeping through her cells. Had she the presence of mind, she would have sent him to save Hers but, as her head turned to lock gazes with her tear stained Mine's face as she shot past F'st without regard around the two circling riders, the woman kneeling carelessly before her dragon and trying to count the wounds, trying to determine what she could do to keep her dearly beloved Green living. Damn the fates and all that had conspired to draw this outcome!
Mine...do not..worry. Typhith...is here. He'll...win, I-I'm...certain. The Green could feel the agony ripping through her own heart as she realized the final sands had begun to slip down the neck of the hourglass at last. You...came. Thank you...Typhith. The Green had lifted her head ever so slightly, trying to meet his gaze, but he was transfixed upon his kill. Such a wonderful Emerald he was, she thought faintly, her head lolling upon the sand as her eyes tried to view the scene before her.
Word Count: 1107
Notes: Whew! This one took awhile. |
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Post by Lyrikitty on Dec 12, 2008 10:04:10 GMT -5
J'kal had made a move as soon as Tain's attention was focused solely on her dying mate, on the Green injured to greivous extent by the wretched Bronze. He lunged, swinging his blade in a wide arc, and meeting flesh. But.. No! It was not the osft yeilding flesh of the woman he'd met with, it was...
F'st sucked air through clenched teeth as the beltknife found home in his shoulder, having to close his eyes against it for a moment. It was a lucky strike, for had the blow landed on the left, it could have well reached his heart, and he'd be useless to anyone then. The muscles tore, ripped ragged by the blade that was made with no intent but to inflict pain, and he hissed as he forced his eyes open to narrow slits, one swift upward thrust of his own knife and the slender blade reached it's own home, sliding up through the man's chin and into his brain. Both men stood as they were, J'kal's blank eyes wide, and then he fell, his body collapsing to the sand and blood pooling in a crimson, sticky mess. Of course, that would be the easiest part of the night, the worst was yet to come.
F'st's vision swam, and only at that moment did he reealize that protruding form his shoulder was the blade, J'kal had loosed his grip when his death befell him, leaving the weapon lodged in F'st's own body. It needed to come out, but first Tain, fist Tain and her beloved Green. Dizzily, he staggered to them, falling to his knees beside the rider, and looking at the dragon. Such a lovely dragon, such a loyal friend. This wasn't right, wasn't fair, they didn't deserve this. If this horrid occurance was some sick punishment to Ty and F'st, it was wrong, for to make two such as there suffer... No. He'd not let anything happen, they would save this little GReen, and her rider would be well.
F'st would let no harm befall them, he'd throw himself before J'kal's attack to protect the Greenrider, and that was only a small act compared to what he was now willing to do for her.
Typhith's furious roar as the heavy scent of Mistith's blood finally reached him caused even the Bronze Nuath the fall back and look almost fearfully at the Emerald. The dragon shuddered, his gem-like hide stained and dulled by the sand and gore of battle, numerous slashes and cuts, gouges, and several warped bones stood coldly apon his figure, a wretched sight, a fearsome sight. He would have let their scuffle continue, given this brute a chance at his own life, if not for the smell of blood. Mistith was injured, and even without hearing her voice, he knew it was bad. His jaws parted again and let out another thunderous roar, answered by Nuath as they clashed against eachother. For a moment only a wall of bronze and green wings could be seen, nothing of the dragons themselves, and then the low rip of tender flesh, a gurgling gasp, and a triumphant hiss. Both beasts fell to the sand in a tangled mess, neither moving for a moment. Which had suceeded was unsure, which was dead...
F'st looked at the two males, urging Ty to lift his head, to detach himself from the Bronze and prove his victory. The emerald had been the larger of the two, had been the stronger, and with no hint of Rouge tainting his mind, the smarter. He couldn't tell though, and couldn't bring himself to his feet to check the Emerald that was his life, his all. "Ty... Come one Ty..." His voice was hoarse, worn by pain and worry, by fear of what would happen. He couldn't live without Ty, for the Emerald had been his only friend over the Turns. The only creature to understand an accept him.
Even as those thoughts were running laps through F'st's mind, Typhith hauled air into his starved lunged, trying to get his paws under him, to heave himself up to go to the Green, to his Green. It was hard, oh it was hard to think of moving, much less to actually do so. He'd latched his jaws around Nuath's throat, leaving the brute not a hope of escapse or life, and as he'd severed the Bronze's jugular and airways, he'd shattered the neck itself, and all but severed the head in his rage. However, in Nuath's last seconds he'd raked Typhith's chest and face with his claws. He was concerned, greatly so, not for the eye that was damaged, for he was having difficulty seeing through his right eye, but for the Green. She was dying, because he'd not been fast enough to reach her when he heard her cry. Thoughts of being forgotten for hours earlier in the day were gone, cocnern that he and F'st were not really wanted wiped away by the overwhelming need to protect and care for the Green and Hers.
He gained his feet, biting back a whimper of pain and stumbled to the Green, looking down at her pitifully, sorrowfully, for even if Tain was safe, Mistith was not. There had to be something he could do... And then it hit him. She'd said if she angled right she could fit on his back. He was injured, oh yes he was injured, but for her he would fly to the ends of Pern and back again with two broken wings, and the Weyr wasn't all to far. Hurriedly, he spoke so that all could hear, urgently relaying his idea. //I can carry her, all of you. The healers of the Weyr.... They will be able to save her. They have to. I will be gentle, but I need you to approve Tain, to agree. Please... Mistith hold on, I will not let you go like this.// His head snaked above them, he had to do something!
F'st looked up at the Emerald, releif flooding his features, and reached for the dragon, trying to soothe the beast, to calm him to some extent. It was no good, for Ty shook him off, neither noticing their own wounds or the other's just yet, though F'st was considerably more aware of the stae Ty was in than anyone else. Poor, sweet Emerald, he was offering to fly the Green and passengers to the Weyr... It would hurt him to do so, even were there no breakes in the bones ofh is wings the rest of him was in bad enough condition, but to try and tell him that was folly. F'st knew that Typhith was hellbent on saving Mistith, at any cost it took, and so looked only to Tain, praying she would give the Emerald his chance, let him do all that he could, however little it may be.
Word Count: 1239
Character: F'st of Typhith
Notes: Aweh!!!!! Your posty made me cry!!!!!!!!!!! We may have to change the Thread of the Month... So far this one is absolutely amazing. ><
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Post by Onyxaeon on Dec 13, 2008 19:35:49 GMT -5
Just try to ruin her delight:
It's a difficult endeavor.
She doesn't walk, she's always prancing,
Only when she isn't dancing.
Share your world, she'll make them lighter.
The future's bright but she is brighter.
.:/Tain/.::.\Mistith\:. Mistith's neck strung across the grainy sands, her glazed orbs swirling rapid shades of agony as they tried to locate Hers, her body struggling to stand as even her slight weight became a thousand tons. Mine....Mine,...are you...okay? Her legs wobbled, clawed feet trying to gain some form of footing, but the sand provided no support, and her crippled body collapsed, a moan of pain trembling from her lips. No, she was not going anywhere, and that was a fact that could not be ignored. It withered any possibly flicker of hope that Typhith could possess, because moving her might just very well send her body into shock, her already stressed heart jumping frantically before dying as abruptly as it had begun its erratic pulsing. Moving her would kill her, and Tain knew this well, her head shaking softly as her hand passed over Mistith's flank, the appendage raking across a blood slickened hide with the rage blistering her irises. Damn that Bronze, damn him! Tears of fury and pain drenched her cheeks as she tried to gather her composure, tried to comfort her distressed Green and speak to Typhith all at once. Her hands gently cupped Mistith's head, her own skull pressing tenderly to the wedged head. I'm here, love. I'm here and I'm safe. Thank you, Mistith. The Green seemed to snort, but it was more of a muffled gurgle as a slow trickle of green ichor spilled down her maw. Her breathing had turned labored, sides heaving to try and absorb as much air as possible to her starved lungs. It did nothing to aide her condition, for her hide was paling rapidly, the once vibrant hue gone to a sickly shade of apple green that was dying to almost posses the coloring of something that glew in the dark. They needed to stop her bleeding, sow up her wounds, prevent the infection from poisoning her petite frame. And they had to do it fast least she join the wings of those long passed and departed from this world.
It wasn't supposed to go like this. The valiant weren't supposed to die so cruelly and so short in their life. Mistith was young, so very young, and so blessedly innocent and full of life. This wasn't her end: it couldn't be. But how was one to save her now, if at all? If moving her would kill her, and even the precious seconds mattered now, how would-how could-they save her? Sure, bringing the healers here would aide in restoring her chances, but not entirely so because, by now, she was probably infected up to her head knobs. Remaining was also none too bright an idea. There were wild felines greater than the size of any human, not to mention other various carnivores lingering about in the night and, without ample protection, both rider and dragon were helpless against the elements and what they could dish out to face them. If they stayed, they were doomed. If they left, they risked loosing her sooner. It was a dead end, the shadows slowly beginning to consume the bonded pair and allow the abyss to pour over their souls like water cascades over the falls to coat the sandy shoes at the bottom. The waters had finally risen above their heads, their bodies swallowed mercilessly and swept under in the current, and they were drowning so very swiftly. Oh, what crime could they have committed to deserve their soul to die before the other?
Tain slowly shook her head again, glistening optics paddling up to meet Typhith's gaze steadily. Or, at least as steadily as she could manage which, honestly, wasn't very. "We can't move her, Ty. She'd go into shock and die on your back. Besides, you're hurt. Your best bet is to bring the healers here. She's not going to be able to budge. F'st, you'll have to-" those endless, emerald pools widened further, if that were possible, drawing in the shape of the knife protruding from his right shoulder. That very same blade could and probably would have been lodged into her own flesh. He'd taken a blade for her...And he barely knew her. Even as the very notion seeped into her heart, touching the throbbing organ, her thoughts began to wonder. It that had been instinct, what was intention? What would he do if his heart had been chained down by the impossibly thick chains of friendship? Dare she wonder, what of love? He would never give anything less than his entire self to anyone, to anything. And at the moment, that someone was her. The thought sent a slow shudder down her spine, but she managed to hide it as her hand gently touched his uninjured side. "F'st, we've got to get that out. You can't go anywhere with that in you and, Typhith, we can't go anywhere with Mistith." She was stunned by the certainty in her own voice, by the authority with which she could move to solve a situation even though her heart was dying on the sands with her Green. "Our best bet is to bring the healers here, and quickly. Typhith can get there fastest, but you can't go with him, F'st. The metal will freeze to your flesh in between and, even if I were to pull it out now and you mount, the chill might kill you for the deepness of the puncture wound." A slow breath was inhaled, her eyes closing gently as she prayed to Faranth her Green would live just as the slight being lifted her maw faintly, eyes only on the other dragon.
I..believe...in you,...Ty. Go...I'll..be...here wh-when...you..get...back. Then, softer, to Hers, Mine...puet me...down. Help...His. So very strong she was! Her head collapsed into her Mine's hands, eyes closing faintly to conserve what little remained of her strength so that she would not break her promise to the large male who had saved her life from the Bronze tainted with Rouge. He would make it: without a shred of doubt, she knew that in her heart he would.
Tain lifted her eyes heavenward, sighing lightly upon hearing her dragon's request, her lips moving but no words spilling from her tongue. Determined and with a stubbornness that could not be fathomed, her head tilted back down. The Greenrider nodded to the Emerald for a moment before she turned her attention to F'st as she gently set Mistith's head down upon the ground, kissing the tip of her dragon's nose. "F'st, sit down and still. I'm going to get that blade out of you."
Word Count: 1161
Notes: Well...-kicks muse- I hope that did not ruin the thread. My muse died on me today. |
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Post by Lyrikitty on Dec 14, 2008 20:58:38 GMT -5
Thyphith gave his head a shake, snaking it about as he searched desparately for an idea, for anything that would prevent the death of anyone. Mistith and Tain were right. There was no choice for him but to leave F'st and them here, and to return to the Weyr alone. A shudder wracked his figure, and he ground his teeth to fight the urge to lay down. Sleepiness was starting to taint his mind, and with a low, concerned croon directed to both F'st and to Mistith, he shoved himself from the sandy ground, his wings sweeping through the air. The action, air filling the thin membrane to lift him higher, pulled a squeal from him. It had hurt! Oh Faranth it had hurt to lift his mass from the confines of the ground. Before any questions could be aired to him, or concerns voiced, he vanished to the cold abyss of Between, reappearing at Talune Weyr doing the one thing none would dare have dreamed him to do.
F'st watched Ty go, his own heart aching at the pain the Emerald suffered simply to get airborn. Poor, brave beast... As Typhith vanished, F'st's gaze shifted to the handle that stuck from his chest, staring at it bleakly for a long moment. With nothing else to occupy his mind, he too was starting to feel the pain he'd brought on himself. He narrowed his eyes, giving his head a small shake. "No. Leave it in for now." It hurt to talk, his chest expanding as air entered and left his lungs, though compared to what his Emerald weyrmate was in, he had but a cut. "The blade is stopping most of the bleeding, and keeping the sand out. Take the sharding thing out and I'll likely die of infection alone." Even as he said those words, his gaze turned to the Green, weakening by the second, ehr life slowly ebbing from her like the tide. Ty was going to be late, no matter how swiftly he got there, or how speedy he got back, the healers would have to gather supplies, would have o work up the courage to go near the brute, and deal witht he fact that the injured Emerald was doubtlessly going to refuse to be treated until he was sure Mistith and His were in good hands. There was no way, unless the Emerald were to Time it, a practice which was discouraged, but for this case may well be accepted. But... Without a rider would the emerald be able to manage it? He closed his eyes as a waves of dizziness made his vision swim, putting a hand on the ground to steady himself, and foced his breathing to remain slow and easy. Ty... F'st prayed the dragon wouldn't overwork himself on this, wouldn't push himself to the point of no return, and collapse in a heap when he returned. Sure, F'st liked Tain, found her utterly remarkable and had the feeling if given a chance he could feel more than just friendship for her, but he wouldn't risk Typhith for that, wouldn't risk the beloved Emerald for anything.
As the small Emerald appeared above the bowl of Talune Weyr, his vocals were exerted, his voice ringing out is a rock-shattering roar, enough to alert every ear of the Weyr to him. Were that alone not enough, he screamed mentally to every mind, rider, dragon, drudge, candidate, flit, and any other living beast that was within range. //HEALERSHEALERSHEALERS!!!!! GREEN MISTITH IS DYING AND YOU MUST HURRY!!!! THE COVE!!! He circled the Weyr once, continuing tyo chant the cry over and over, each time his roar died out it was renewed again, and all the while sending out the image of the place he'd left, a picture of the Green on the ground, of Tain anf F'st, of the moon, the stars, and the water. A darker bulk was on the outskirts of this image, a wretched one, that was impossible to decipher, but was the body of the Bronze. He ached, he wanted to rest, to set his head down and sleep. Weariness was dragging through his muscles, was making it nearly impossible to stay aloft, but he must! He couldn't though, for if he was to carry anyone back to the Green and His, he would have to set himself to the grassy bottom. That was not the trouble, however, the thought of once more becomming airborn was. His wings screamed protest at the work they were doing now, the broken bones in them trheatening to do so much worse, the cuts delivered from Bronze Nuath's claws seeping ichor to the ground in warm puddles.
As his claws touched ground, he cried out again, not a roar, for it had been cut short by the pained bellow that leapt from his throat before he could stop it, his legs crumpling beneath him, wings stiffening, cramping, refusing to settle to his sides as he spasmed. The Weyr had come alive, first wondering who was screaming so frantically, then realizing that a dragon, no... Two dragons, were hurt, greivously so. Healers bustled about, rushing to gather their supplies to try and treat the Emerald. As groups gathered around the beast, he growled, fighting the terrible pain, fighting the impending blackness, the threat of nothingness, to demand they mount, to order them to his back.
Of course none wanted to, for fear that they would kill the Emerald, the great beast who was struggling to his paws, panting, shivering with the effort. But his eyes, tingeed with fear and worry even above the pain he was in, quelled all doubts, and one by one, healers hauled themselves and their bags to the neck of the Emerald. It was taking too long, much to long, he knew. He could feel F'st wavering, though he knew His would not die from this, but if the man was doing poorly, Mistith would be worse. He was going to loose her... No. With a jerk, he lurched foward, staggering as he tried to crouch for the all important leap into the air. A few more tries, and all new waves of pain rippling from his injured bodice, before finally he was able to shove himself off the ground, only for his wings to try and refuse, fighting the action of raking the air, and back to the ground he fell, his chest thudding into the dirt as he bellowed again in pain. //Mine... Mine it hurts! I must come though... Mine!// He needed his rider's comfort, needed to hear his voice, the assurance that the Emerald could do this, thatnothin would stand in his way. It came, oh blessed releif it came, though weary. /Dear Ty, sweet Ty, you can. You are strong, stronger than any other Emerald, stronger than a Black or Amber, or even a Raven. My Ty, I know that you can, if you want it./ The words the emerald needed to head, and he again heaved himself to his paws, snarling back the bellows of pain that threatened to spill out, and crouching, muscles quivering with their weakness. But he could! To the air, he leapt, forcing his wings to act, to row through the air and lift him up. Suspended in the air for a moment, unsure of what to do. go back, with the time that was wasted, too much time, enough that surely his beloved little Green was either dead, or would be in seconds, or... Another seconds crawled by, and the Emerald bugled, vanishing to the icy depths of Between and to his fate.
It had been several minutes, time enough that Ty was at the Weyr and waking it. Mistith was doing poorly, anyone could tell that if she lived to see the sunrise, she would be lucky. So weak she was, she'd been unble to lift her head almost, and he sighed, shaking his head, reaching out for Tain, as much for his own comfort as for her's. He was starting to feel grim, to feel that this night would end with nothing but sadness. Then, as if by an answered pray, much faster, much sooner, than F'st had thought ever possible of the emerald, Typhith appeared in the sky. For a moment F'st only looked up at the dragon, then slowly it dawned on him, concern etching his face, deep lines springing to life from nowhere. "No... No, Ty? TY!" Even as he cried out, rising unsteadily to his feet as if it would stop the scene the played before him, the Emerald fell.
Typhith had Timed it, returning to but a few moments after he'd left, very possibly saving Mistith's life by that act, but it had cost him, and dearly. From the hegith he'd appeared, his wings folded, trying to stay open, to slow his fall, but too weak, to weary to keep him aloft any longer. The ground came closer to him, a great wall which would crush him if he didn't act, if he idn't o something, but what? What could he do? No, the Emerald had already done too much. Fighting off the Bronze Nuath, whose corpse he could see even now, killing the beast, flying to Talune to rally together every Healer of the Weyr, and then comming back through time to this moment, as close as he dared get to his leaving. It had worn him to far, to far to manage toland himself gently, his only thought now to crash in such a manner as to keep his precious cargo alive, to allow them to help Mistith and F'st. Ah... F'st.. How would the man get by without the emerald? Ty's mind churned on this, focused on this alone. His was going to be deeply hurt, and there was nothing that Typhith could do about it.
Word Count: 1767
Character: F'st of Typhith
Notes: Not at all dear, it was beautiful. Hmm... *sobs* This one seriously is making me cry... *thinks* Ah-ha, you think mayhap Varanth could make a guest appearance and aide Typhith to the ground? *doesn't really want him to crash, but the post came out too perfectly to change*
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Post by Onyxaeon on Dec 15, 2008 23:44:44 GMT -5
With a sigh, you turn away
With a deepening heart,
No more words to say.
You will find that the world has changed forever,
And the trees are now turning from green to gold,
And the sun is now fading.
.: |Varanth||::.[/center][/color][/size][/i][/b] HEALERSHEALERSHEALERS!!!!! GREEN MISTITH IS DYING AND YOU MUST HURRY!!!! The cry echoed throughout the Weyr, thundering an eruption of activity as, all around the expanse of the Weyr, people began to rouse, pouring into the Weyrbowl and some poking their heads from out of their personal weyrs. Who had called out and disturbed the entire population's dreaming was unknown, but the agony that melted from his tongue...Was it possible not to be moved into the swiftest form of action by that cry? Could any have truly ignored him those tormented lyrics? No, not if they possessed a shred of a soul or heart, for the throbbing mass would easily shatter at such a notion.
Settled comfortably in his couch, Varanth's head jolted up, eyes pivoting about the room to locate the sound of the disturbance. He had caught only the last portion of Typhith's mournful cry, though, unlike the greater portion of the Weyr who did not bother to disconcern who had spoken, the Onyx knew exactly who was the subject of the Emerald's pain and how to respond. His answering, roaring bugle shook the room, his claws scratching viciously at the stone flooring as the great beast shot across the confining space to literally launch from the ledge, his wide wings spreading to catch himself as he descended. There was no time to wait for His to mount-no, strapping a saddle upon him would take too long, and that was precious time that Mistith did not have, even though His was already wandering down the steps and into the Weyrbowl. The Emerald had just vanished betweenwhen D'ron came onto the scene, the rider having no time to discover where his dragon was heading before the massive Onyx blinked between after the Emerald and, from the looks of it, timing it too.
The ebony mass materialized from the emptiness of the darkened abyss, eyes widening in fright as he saw Typhith plummeting with the distressed healers in tow, spiraling down to the earth at a rapid speed that could not be achieved if the dragon was not so weighted down. Angling downward, the Onyx tucked his wings to his sides, allowing his body to slice through the air with the deafening crack of whiplash sounding through the air as the Onyx corkscrewed, wings refusing to allow for him to catch himself as he gained on Typhith. Typhith, hold fast to them! He shouted of the roar of the air currents, his greater mass allowing for gravity to carry him under the other massive dragon, his wings flaring wide as one healer dropped, screaming, onto his back, scrambling like an ant away from a magnifying glass as he landed upon Varanth's neck. Typhith's great mass struck Varanth, a rush of air being expelled from his lungs as the breath was knocked from him. The added weight caused him to swerve, diving straight for the shallow waters of the ocean, and there was no possible savior that could have been better for a cushion. They crashed, gloriously despite the blinding pain radiating from the irises of the Onyx, for though he had not broken a bone, he had acquired several stretched tendons in his neck, and dislocated his shoulder from the impact, but nothing he could not recover from. Or, that was what he so believed as he surfaced, sputtering oaths that were not known to humankind.
Word Count: 588
Notes: -Sighs- Sad, sad post. But, like I said, my first was deleted and now I'm talking with my beau and am FAR too happy to write Mistith and Tain's sad post. Sowwy Mittens. |
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Post by Lyrikitty on Dec 16, 2008 8:59:42 GMT -5
Just when F'st had thought all hope gone, all justice, all fairness, in the world vanished to but a memory, a dark shadow swooped below the Emerald, steering the dragon away from the ground, angling their rappid descent. Varanth? Yes, yes it had to be te Onyx. As they crashed into the water, a far softer landing than what would have happened, water spewed into the sky, falling back in a murky sheet. Unknowingly, F'st was holdiong his breath, begging silently for Typhith to be alive, for the Emerald to be able to live after that. He'd been a fool to let Ty go... Been a fool to let the Emerald try and bring help. He shuddered taking a tenetive step tot he water's edge, letting angry waves suck at his booted toes. /Please Ty... Please. I'm sorry.../ The water was starting to settle enough to see, enough that he could make out the Onyx, who seemed overall alright, perhaps a few minor injuries, but nothing fatal. Then came healers, speeding through the water to the shore, to Mistith. No, what about Typhith? Why weren't they trying to help him? What was wrong with them? So what if Ty had gone to the Weyr and summoned them for Mistith's aide, the emerald was hurt too... Or... Or was he... No! No, F'st couldn't think like that, couldn't allow such thoughts to seep into his mind and settle there. His Emerald was fine, had to be fine. But even as he forced himself to think so, he sank back to his knees, into the rise and fall of the salty ocean's endless rythym.
Typhith made no sound as they crashed, for by that point, he was only barely concious, only enough to know to do whatever it took to keep the healers who rode his with no saddle, no straps, no way to secure themselves, on. He hit the water with his chest first, most of the impact dissolving into the water, followed by his belly as he came to a halt. As he struck, he closed his eyes, though by choice or through the pain one couldn't be sure. He'd blocked F'st from him now, blocked His from the pain, from the misery. The healers were here though, they could help. A low groan bubbled from his lips, he tried to lift his skull to look at the shore as his passengers fled from him. He couldn't blame them. Had they seen their lives flash before their eyes as he plumetted unrestrained? He knew they had screamed, oh how they had screamed, some clinging to his neck ridges, one or two holding fearfully to whatever they could grab. Oh well, it made no difference now, for he was certain that he wasn't going to be the one to take them back to the Weyr. No, he'd barely managed to get himself off the ground! He was tempted to remain in the water, laying on the shallow bottom, but the sting of salt in his wounds was too much, made him wish to cry out all over again.
The Emerald ground his teeth as he tried to pulled himself out of the water, and managed more than even he had thought, managed to bring his head close enough to the shore that the water only touched his lower jaw. He stared sadly at F'st, trying to bring himself to move again, to cover the last bit of distance between them, but couldn't. His muscles rebelled, screamed violent things to him, and left him whimpering, more from the agony he read in the face of his weyrmate than from what he felt. //MineF'st.... I... I am sorry....Got... Healers..// He could say no more, had not the energy or the strength. He wanted to sleep now, to rest. He had done all that was called for of him.
F'st shook his head, rising and running into the water, running to the muzzle of his beloved, of his lifemate. Tears streamed down his face. Shard the fact that he still had the knife lodged in his chest, he reache dup, wrapping his fingered around the hilt and pulling it out forcefully, grimacing in pain at the act. Blood flowed freely down his chest, dark crimson, as he walked almost trance-like to the side of Typhith's head. Those eyes were closed, no sign of life but for the labored breathing and the soft spray of water from each exhalation. Gently, he scratched the eye-ridges of the dragon, slowly sinking back to the ground as he leaned against the Emerald, leaning his tear-streaked face against the soft hide, now slick with ichor and water.
As painful as it was for the two, the water was their best bet, and not only in just that landing. The salt in it would act as a disinfectant, cleaning the wounds and killing off that which could prove deadly. No healer went to the Emerald yet because they knew he needed more time to clean, more time for his wounds to be washed. Instead they went in a rush to Mistith, trying to urge Tain away from the Green so they would have room, and no interference. Antiseptics were poured onto the green,jar after jar, and just as soon as a wound was clean enough, most healers would move on, leaving one or two to start stitching, the process continuing over and over and over again. Three woman separated themselves, striding through the water to F'st and forcefully pulling him away from Ty, holding him still so they could inspect his own injury. He had noheart to fight, only kept his stormy gray eyes on Typhith. He hardly winced as they stitched the wounds up as best they could, shaking their heads at the jagged cut. There was no sense to numbweed, his mind was to focused on Typhith to notice pain, asnd the water would wash it away before it would do any good. Without a word, the healers went back to the Green, back to trying to save her life, and F'st went back to his dragon's side, holding tight to the only friend he had ever known.
Word Count: 1077
Character: F'st of Typhith
Notes:
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Post by Onyxaeon on Dec 19, 2008 15:23:20 GMT -5
Just try to ruin her delight:
It's a difficult endeavor.
She doesn't walk, she's always prancing,
Only when she isn't dancing.
Share your world, she'll make them lighter.
The future's bright but she is brighter.
.:/Tain/.::.\Mistith\:.
The swarm of hands prying the rider away from her Green were far too strong for the numbed Tain to resist, and so she was dragged back a safe distance from her beloved though still close enough, it seemed, to reach out and touch the forest green hide. As if to occupy her while her Green was dying, one healer made the half hearted attempt to question her whether she was hurt or not and where if so. As if that really mattered. When she remained mute to his prompting, the man threw up his hands in exasperation, going about his own search of her persona roughly before collecting his things and wandering over to help the Green. She didn't notice the pots of numb-weed being passed back and forth between healer, didn't care to notice the needles as they pierced through her dragon's flesh to tie what remained of it back together to stop the bleeding. No, her eyes were glazed, so lost in the distance that it seemed impossible to bring her back to the reality that her Green was going to die. It was not possible she would live with her injuries; even a fine Bronze would have died from something of the likes, so what chance did she, a puny Green, have? But Tain could not help the way she felt, could not help the aching pull of her heart as the muscle clenched, tightening so fiercely that she wanted nothing more than to lie down and never breathe again. What was life without Mistith? What would it be like, to live, knowing your soul had died before you, and it was all your fault because she would have lived if you had not been there? What would it be like to have nothing?
And then she knew. The white hot blinding pain clouded her vision, crippling her, and sending the rider falling blindly to her knees. No....NO!!!! She couldn't die. Mistith couldn't die; she was too young, too full of life, too...everything. It didn't matter if one named a dozen reasons, though. She was gone, her bright future crashing into the earth like some fallen baby bird who had wandered too far from the nest. She was gone.... Tain had felt her subconscious slip, sliding away from her own and as her tear clogged orbs lifted, a low cry tore from her lips in her agony, the tears pouring a new. She couldn't move, was paralyzed by the thought, and when the healers began to try to revive her dragon's stuttering pulse, Tain was too far lost. Her world had been shattered; there was no point to living when all that you loved was broken, buried six feet under. And as the healers vigorously tried to bring back the Green, Tain's eyes groped about for the blade that had nearly taken her life as well as F'st's. Dawn would find her long departed from her beloved, that blade wedged into her throbbing heart till the muscle ceased to howl a chorus of wretched misery.
As the Greenrider stumbled across the sands, her mind wandered into the shadows, the noises fading around her till all that she could hear was the beating of her own heart as it thudded, the sound reverberating inside her body like a echo does across a mountain range. As she bent down, hand extending to touch the hilt of the belt knife, a faint, almost inaudible, whisper caught her own guard, and she recoiled as though she had been burned. That voice....She could not fathom how or why her mind would be so cruel as to torture her with her Mistith's words, and the pained lyrics sent her fury washing over her. Damn it all! She should be the one to have died, she should have protected her, she should have never even come in the first place. But trying to pin the blame on herself only brought the nagging thumping from before back, twice as strong as before, and it took a second for her to realize that it was not her own heart beating but, rather, another, slowly trying to claw its way back into the world of the living.
Word Count: 723
Notes: -Wails- |
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|Varanth||::.[/center][/color][/size][/i][/b]