09-24-2015, 03:31 PM
Bloody and broken, she stumbles into the Meadow.
Her blood stains her cheek from where the dragon-hound mist creature had stroked her face, though the wound has long since healed over. Her ruined ears—barely stitched together—had bled heavily all down her face and neck, and ruining her future Self had left Cress’s entire front end—her muzzle, her neck, her chest—coated in blood that is hers and is not hers all at the same time. The blood drips down her legs (the brutal murder had been only minutes ago, after all) as she half-walks, half-trips into the Meadow. The taste of blood is still heavy in her mouth and she is desperate to find a stream to rinse the taste away.
It doesn’t take her long to find running water, and she wades into it gratefully. The blood had covered up her dragon-Mark but as she goes deeper the delightfully cold water rinses away the blood, uncovering it piece by piece. Wings, a reptilian head, a bulky body, curved tail, and long, cruel talons slowly come into view, burned black into her skin. She has been branded by the dark god—they all have, if they managed to escape—and she’ll carry the mark for the rest of her life.
The blood slowly rinses away, leaving her as golden as she was before the torture. When all but her face is clean, she cautiously sinks her head beneath the water, letting the coolness wash away the fire inside of her. It’s still there—maybe she’ll feel it there forever, now—but the cold water helps to bring down the burning sensation and she doesn’t want to leave. She considers the possibility of just staying beneath the water and letting it carry her away, but she can’t possibly do that. She has to go home. She has to prove to the Valley that she’s okay and that she’ll make a great Salaam.
With a sigh she pulls herself from the stream, shaking like a dog to loosen the water clinging to her coat. As the heavy breath escapes her nostrils she notices a trail of smoke coming from seemingly within her, but she pays it no mind. It’s probably just a remnant of the fire that the dragon left in her chest. She wouldn’t be surprised.
Maybe being free just means a new way for him to torture them.
Her eyes fall on a nearby stallion—he’s familiar!—and she gasps, instinctively taking a step towards him. He’s here, but he was there, too, he was in the dungeon with her; he was one of the dark god’s captives as well. “You survived!” she exclaims, and something clicks within her body as she speaks—a tongue of flame shoots out of her mouth following the words.
“Oh my god.”
There will be time for falling apart later. All that matters now is that she was not the only one who escaped.
you’re only happy when you’re making a scene
I figured they could play together now.
infected.