Tatter
02-28-2016, 09:15 PM
In the end everything collides;
My childhood spat back out the monster that you see.
There’s this thing where being dead leaves you kind of lonely. The once-great stallion has realized this, over and over again, endlessly, day after day. There is only so much small talk to be done while one looks over the events of the “real world,” so-to-speak, and it gets tedious. Boring, even. Beqanna had been a tumultuous place when the Painted King had fallen, but it had fallen into a lull of inactivity since then. He has seen his scheming great-granddaughter, all right, but when you have all the time in the world it seems as though they move at a snail’s pace.
When the battle finally breaks on the Chamber’s border, magician and trait-wielders alike flowing into the Chamber as if any of them belong there, his lip curls in disgust. Who are they to think they can file into his kingdom and take what they want? Who are they to think they can come in and try to bathe the Chamber in the blood of her own loyal members? He is pacing as he waits, waits for the tide to turn and for the Chamber to crush their enemy. It is only fair, it is only just, it is only the Chamber’s way.
Eventually his sire joins the magicians fighting in the skies, as dragons and birds and even creatures on the ground. Even the dragons make him feel restless—Nocturnal was his dragon girl, his dragon, the only one who truly belonged in that skin. Even Set has adopted a dragon form himself but he can allow his father that much without the resentment; when your enemy is a dragon, you fight fire with fire. The Chamber is already burning—not for much longer, but it is aflame—so why not use a little more firepower?
Eventually Tatter feels a tug and he turns towards it willingly, clinging to the thread of life that has been offered to him. Of course Set wouldn’t make him sit out an entire war on their home turf. He materializes, young and scar-free, in front of his demon of a younger brother, a toothy grin on his face. Set’s voice comes from within the demon but Tatter takes it all in stride, not even acknowledging the hellhound at his brother’s feet. “Niklas,” he says with a nod, then addresses his father. “I was wondering how long you’d keep me waiting, Father!”
There is zero hesitation as he barrels through the portal. Time to go home.
The journey from the Afterlife to the Chamber seems to take an eternity and only a split second all in one, and before Tatter knows it he is slinking towards his father, muscles rippling under his sleek blue and white body. “Well met,” he says in greeting. “Do we have a battle plan, or am I just going in to rip some throats out?” He is anxious, keyed up, almost dancing on his feathered feet. He hasn’t felt this young in decades. They are not far from the battle; he can hear the shrieking of horses and other creatures that have joined the fray. He is ready as soon as Set gives the word.
Tatter.
@[Set]
Set, Niklas, and Tatter are separated from the fighting. For now. Nobody should know they're there.
