The light that meets the dark
Cheri bit back the urge to blurt out, “I know that” when the big cat had mentioned something about attracting unwanted attention. The phrase sounded like it’d come right out of her father’s personal repertoire of catchphrases, and at first she’d had to swallow the words back down into the pit of her little knotted stomach. Of all the stupid things she could’ve done when confronted with another magical creature, Cheri wasn’t going to let ‘arguing to death’ be one of them. And he had looked at her some type of way right afterwards, almost amused, which prompted her train of thought to jump tracks.
Hmmph. She reserved her judgement for later, when she didn’t have a patient suffering while they worked out the awkward kinks of a first encounter.
The stranger paced his way into Cheri’s full view, and though the studious black filly refused to look up she could almost picture him anyways. He didn’t scare her—not really, not anymore—and she wouldn’t agree to his assumption that she was disturbed by him, no. Cheri felt, acutely, a sense of intimidation when he was nearby. When he’d passed alongside her earlier, her skin had tingled and the pace of her breath had quickened. Cheri had never seen a cat before and had only encountered a predator twice, but this… shifter? This shapeling male was something different altogether.
Leonine, articulate, soothing when he spoke to her but hinting danger whenever she caught him staring or whenever she did see him strut. The way his shoulders rolled and the wings he kept folded there, just shadows bumping and moving in the dim light of the jungle’s red haze.
She couldn’t even begin to guess at his real age, much less what he must look like in the natural form of a horse, but as she peered over the little bird with narrowed eyes Cheri could wonder. Her imagination was capable enough of creating proud cheeks and wizened eyes; she guessed wildly that he was a hardy dun color because of his feline pelt and then laughed softly, looking up in surprise to find him scrutinizing her.
“Disturbed? No.” Cheri couldn’t help but grin slowly. He looked so intense. Had she offended him? “You caught me in a vulnerable moment, that’s all. Like you more or less said: surprises aren’t typically fun situations these days. I’m not trying to overstep boundaries or invite more chaos into an already cluttered apocalypse by border-crossing.” She explained thoroughly. Cheri doubted anyone cared anymore, honestly.
For all she knew he could be a guard. He could be a … something, she didn’t know. All she was focused on in the moment was that ‘he’ was Tephran and he wasn’t going to eat her or the bird.
“Thank you for not killing me. And for staying.” She hedged. Apologies were hard things for young, stubborn fillies to do, but she was willing to trust him if he was willing to tolerate her. Truce? Her green eyes sparkled, demure even if her expression was most certainly not. “You can come closer and watch if you like.”
In the meantime, the bird had her attention again. Cheri tilted her head and puzzled over which method of healing she should use, noting the animal's small size and weight as she looked it over. Avian skeletal structures were made up of mostly hollow bones, meaning the break would probably be easier to mend, and while she wanted to simply zap it with a dose of magic Cheri knew nothing was ever that easy. There was always the risk of overdosing, meaning she could drain herself entirely and risk possibly dying in the process of trying to restore life, or in this case she might give too much to whoever was receiving—a fate she hadn’t even really considered until just now.
The pressure from earlier tapered to a point and Cheri’s anxiety spiked, but she didn’t spiral. Instead she inhaled, popping open her mouth to suck in the heavy air of the volcanic kingdom. Her lungs swam in the humidity, and Cheri wrinkled her nostrils in concentration. Think, she urged herself. Where did she usually start with her patients? At the source.
The source being pain, of course. That pesky firing of involuntary, emotional neurons Cheri liked to deal with before getting to the heart of more unsavory work. She typically gave a small dose at first to help ease the pain and make her subjects comfortable. Carefully, she poised her mouth just above the small bird and held her breath, calculating the weight of tension in the air before she quickly tapped the thing and withdrew. A fizzle of energy crackled like static over her lips and then disappeared, leaving Cheri to watch as the creature’s tiny legs clenched for a moment before finally uncurling.
She held her breath a second longer, then sighed.
“This might actually work.” Came a whisper, half-pitched with dizzy elation. She remembered her audience in a snap and her head rose, hoping to find a kindred sort of satisfaction there as well.
Hmmph. She reserved her judgement for later, when she didn’t have a patient suffering while they worked out the awkward kinks of a first encounter.
The stranger paced his way into Cheri’s full view, and though the studious black filly refused to look up she could almost picture him anyways. He didn’t scare her—not really, not anymore—and she wouldn’t agree to his assumption that she was disturbed by him, no. Cheri felt, acutely, a sense of intimidation when he was nearby. When he’d passed alongside her earlier, her skin had tingled and the pace of her breath had quickened. Cheri had never seen a cat before and had only encountered a predator twice, but this… shifter? This shapeling male was something different altogether.
Leonine, articulate, soothing when he spoke to her but hinting danger whenever she caught him staring or whenever she did see him strut. The way his shoulders rolled and the wings he kept folded there, just shadows bumping and moving in the dim light of the jungle’s red haze.
She couldn’t even begin to guess at his real age, much less what he must look like in the natural form of a horse, but as she peered over the little bird with narrowed eyes Cheri could wonder. Her imagination was capable enough of creating proud cheeks and wizened eyes; she guessed wildly that he was a hardy dun color because of his feline pelt and then laughed softly, looking up in surprise to find him scrutinizing her.
“Disturbed? No.” Cheri couldn’t help but grin slowly. He looked so intense. Had she offended him? “You caught me in a vulnerable moment, that’s all. Like you more or less said: surprises aren’t typically fun situations these days. I’m not trying to overstep boundaries or invite more chaos into an already cluttered apocalypse by border-crossing.” She explained thoroughly. Cheri doubted anyone cared anymore, honestly.
For all she knew he could be a guard. He could be a … something, she didn’t know. All she was focused on in the moment was that ‘he’ was Tephran and he wasn’t going to eat her or the bird.
“Thank you for not killing me. And for staying.” She hedged. Apologies were hard things for young, stubborn fillies to do, but she was willing to trust him if he was willing to tolerate her. Truce? Her green eyes sparkled, demure even if her expression was most certainly not. “You can come closer and watch if you like.”
In the meantime, the bird had her attention again. Cheri tilted her head and puzzled over which method of healing she should use, noting the animal's small size and weight as she looked it over. Avian skeletal structures were made up of mostly hollow bones, meaning the break would probably be easier to mend, and while she wanted to simply zap it with a dose of magic Cheri knew nothing was ever that easy. There was always the risk of overdosing, meaning she could drain herself entirely and risk possibly dying in the process of trying to restore life, or in this case she might give too much to whoever was receiving—a fate she hadn’t even really considered until just now.
The pressure from earlier tapered to a point and Cheri’s anxiety spiked, but she didn’t spiral. Instead she inhaled, popping open her mouth to suck in the heavy air of the volcanic kingdom. Her lungs swam in the humidity, and Cheri wrinkled her nostrils in concentration. Think, she urged herself. Where did she usually start with her patients? At the source.
The source being pain, of course. That pesky firing of involuntary, emotional neurons Cheri liked to deal with before getting to the heart of more unsavory work. She typically gave a small dose at first to help ease the pain and make her subjects comfortable. Carefully, she poised her mouth just above the small bird and held her breath, calculating the weight of tension in the air before she quickly tapped the thing and withdrew. A fizzle of energy crackled like static over her lips and then disappeared, leaving Cheri to watch as the creature’s tiny legs clenched for a moment before finally uncurling.
She held her breath a second longer, then sighed.
“This might actually work.” Came a whisper, half-pitched with dizzy elation. She remembered her audience in a snap and her head rose, hoping to find a kindred sort of satisfaction there as well.
@[sorren] butters my biscuit