Lilliana goads and goads Draco. She encourages him into a pissing match she knows she can’t win. Not with him - he has height and brawn on his side. He has magic that renders hers useless (what will she do? Glow at him?) and so her mind teeters at an edge, trying to think of a possible escape.
She can’t leave Pangea. And as the chestnut mare gives one more assessing glance of the taller stallion, she has no desire to have him on her heels. The thought that a thing like him might lurk through her precious Redwoods. Not with her colts in Taiga. There is enough darkness there - and while she is desperately seeking an outlet now - Lilliana knows the laws of Beqanna. The same ones that bound Ghaul to Nerine will bind her here.
The Taigan mare only needs to get away from Draco.
Get away from him and then-
If she can just get him to react, then perhaps her smaller frame might actually help her. Once he lunges forward, she can know which way to dance. That’s how this has been explained to her - that there is some grace in the movements, that there is a rhythm in the comings and goings of a fight that echoes nature. If she can just see where he is going, then she can go the other way - like winter thaws to spring, like summer blazes to fall.
Her delicately-tipped ears pin further into the waves of her thick mane, "Lilliana.” It’s a demand, a correction - she won’t be darling to anyone.
"And who said anything about dying?” she provokes him, hoping that the demon might finally lunge towards her. "Taiga will exist long after your bones have bleached, Draco.”
Her dark mouth twists up in a smile, "Try it.” The diplomat boldly dares him, taking another sidestep back.
Draco comes closer and when Lilliana finally thinks she sees it - her chance - there is a flash of copper and a sprite leap forward. Of course, as so many things with her, she has misjudged the moment. There is flesh and scraping and fighting before the eventual ending - meeting a similar fate as the other Pangean captive. Her world burns away with rage and fury.
Lilliana finds herself hoping that her bared teeth find purchase, that she marks him somehow. She hopes that she leaves evidence behind that if any horse ever asked the constellation mind-reader, he would have to deny that the scar came from a little red mare from Taiga.
She can’t leave Pangea. And as the chestnut mare gives one more assessing glance of the taller stallion, she has no desire to have him on her heels. The thought that a thing like him might lurk through her precious Redwoods. Not with her colts in Taiga. There is enough darkness there - and while she is desperately seeking an outlet now - Lilliana knows the laws of Beqanna. The same ones that bound Ghaul to Nerine will bind her here.
The Taigan mare only needs to get away from Draco.
Get away from him and then-
If she can just get him to react, then perhaps her smaller frame might actually help her. Once he lunges forward, she can know which way to dance. That’s how this has been explained to her - that there is some grace in the movements, that there is a rhythm in the comings and goings of a fight that echoes nature. If she can just see where he is going, then she can go the other way - like winter thaws to spring, like summer blazes to fall.
Her delicately-tipped ears pin further into the waves of her thick mane, "Lilliana.” It’s a demand, a correction - she won’t be darling to anyone.
"And who said anything about dying?” she provokes him, hoping that the demon might finally lunge towards her. "Taiga will exist long after your bones have bleached, Draco.”
Her dark mouth twists up in a smile, "Try it.” The diplomat boldly dares him, taking another sidestep back.
Draco comes closer and when Lilliana finally thinks she sees it - her chance - there is a flash of copper and a sprite leap forward. Of course, as so many things with her, she has misjudged the moment. There is flesh and scraping and fighting before the eventual ending - meeting a similar fate as the other Pangean captive. Her world burns away with rage and fury.
Lilliana finds herself hoping that her bared teeth find purchase, that she marks him somehow. She hopes that she leaves evidence behind that if any horse ever asked the constellation mind-reader, he would have to deny that the scar came from a little red mare from Taiga.
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind