oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?
Yael is perfectly aware of the chaos she’s causeing; she knows full well what happens when Desert dragons take to the sky. The last time, the Valley burned. This time, the Chamber will burn. This time, Yael will have no regrets.
Her mind-words echo across the land, crawling into the heads of everyone without protection; let them know that Straia started this, and that Yael was simply reacting. She is angry, yes, and raging, but not completely out of control. She’s spent too much time letting her attention purposefully expand and wander to let herself be taken by surprise. Magic can feel magic - Eight and Set will be giant freaking beacons unless they purposefully muffle themselves. The battle rages below her, and without a clear aim, she isn’t going to let loose more fire, or dip down to grab another hostage. She can, however, call for backup while hovering above the battle.
Jason? Ve could use a leettle xelp xere. Anyt’ing you’ve got vould be appreciated. Ever polite, of course, because she’s never met the Gates’ quiet magician. She can assume he’s nothing like the silver lioness that hisses and spits far below. And then she reaches out to the Dale, though she had only distantly heard that they were on their side. Ramiel? Var ees upon us. Ve need ze Dale!
Yael pumps her wings, sending herself higher, to coast on the hot air that is quickly rising from the Chamber. Ah, the heat. It feels like home to her. Perhaps she was made for a dragon’s body after all. Some time passes, but not much in the grand scheme of things, when the attack that she’s been waiting for comes. Her thoughts are shielded, much like Set’s are, so they can’t know that her plan is simple. Yael is no fool; she cannot hope to best two older magicians in a game of pure strength. Her magic may have once smoldered in the veins of one of B’kanna’s oldest, but in her own body, it is not as potent. Her options are few.
The attacks seem to converge on her all at once, which makes her plan all the better. Eight dives, and Set and his three dragons flame - and at the last possible second Yael and her cargo disappear. Why fight when you can take to flight? The osprey’s duck feet (t’ank you, Veir!) paddle at empty air, perhaps even throwing him into the path of one of the four, smaller dragons in Set’s gang. Wouldn’t that be a shame?
Catch me if you can, she seems to say, without ever uttering a retort.
Where, oh where, did she go? Back to the thrice protected Desert, where she can refuel, imprison, and reinforce. t is the safest place she knows, with the magical shield tied not to her own physical strength, but to the magic that flows beneath the sands. It is tied to the Gods. She doesn’t know many who could overpower them. Soon she will return to the melee at hand. Someone had to keep those magicians busy and off the general populace. Duck and weave, she thinks. Duck and weave.
Her mind-words echo across the land, crawling into the heads of everyone without protection; let them know that Straia started this, and that Yael was simply reacting. She is angry, yes, and raging, but not completely out of control. She’s spent too much time letting her attention purposefully expand and wander to let herself be taken by surprise. Magic can feel magic - Eight and Set will be giant freaking beacons unless they purposefully muffle themselves. The battle rages below her, and without a clear aim, she isn’t going to let loose more fire, or dip down to grab another hostage. She can, however, call for backup while hovering above the battle.
Jason? Ve could use a leettle xelp xere. Anyt’ing you’ve got vould be appreciated. Ever polite, of course, because she’s never met the Gates’ quiet magician. She can assume he’s nothing like the silver lioness that hisses and spits far below. And then she reaches out to the Dale, though she had only distantly heard that they were on their side. Ramiel? Var ees upon us. Ve need ze Dale!
Yael pumps her wings, sending herself higher, to coast on the hot air that is quickly rising from the Chamber. Ah, the heat. It feels like home to her. Perhaps she was made for a dragon’s body after all. Some time passes, but not much in the grand scheme of things, when the attack that she’s been waiting for comes. Her thoughts are shielded, much like Set’s are, so they can’t know that her plan is simple. Yael is no fool; she cannot hope to best two older magicians in a game of pure strength. Her magic may have once smoldered in the veins of one of B’kanna’s oldest, but in her own body, it is not as potent. Her options are few.
The attacks seem to converge on her all at once, which makes her plan all the better. Eight dives, and Set and his three dragons flame - and at the last possible second Yael and her cargo disappear. Why fight when you can take to flight? The osprey’s duck feet (t’ank you, Veir!) paddle at empty air, perhaps even throwing him into the path of one of the four, smaller dragons in Set’s gang. Wouldn’t that be a shame?
Catch me if you can, she seems to say, without ever uttering a retort.
Where, oh where, did she go? Back to the thrice protected Desert, where she can refuel, imprison, and reinforce. t is the safest place she knows, with the magical shield tied not to her own physical strength, but to the magic that flows beneath the sands. It is tied to the Gods. She doesn’t know many who could overpower them. Soon she will return to the melee at hand. Someone had to keep those magicians busy and off the general populace. Duck and weave, she thinks. Duck and weave.
YAEL
mother, queen, magician
@[Jason]
@[Ramiel]