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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    i'm volatile and afraid to cry | birthing - gendry/any
    #2

    Screaming like a siren, alive and burning brighter.
    The magic I worked with Pazuzu to bring Drow's triplets into the world was the most amazing thing I have done in a long damn time. It felt good, to do something beautiful for my son. To welcome my daughter's love into the family in such a profound way. It felt...like being part of a real family again, instead of having all my children scattered to the winds. Still, it's different now. Those children each have their own little families, and they need time to bond on their own. So once the girls are fed and everyone is settled in, I take to the sky on wings for once not draconic.

    No, there's no need to be something great and powerful to inspire terror in the hearts of those who see my silhouette against the sky. Tonight I'll settle for ordinary and inconspicuous, and take the shape of an owl. I follow the quiet tug of instinct and impulse, and the closer I get to the Chamber, the more urgent the pull. Ignoring kingdom boundaries and etiquette, I fly across the mountain range to a plateau just in time to see a struggling stranger bleeding out a child.

    Well hell.

    I land on the woman, careful not to damage her any further with my sharp talons. In fact, no need for them to be sharp just now; I dull them and start scanning her body, flooding her with a wash of healing energy, doing what I can to replace lost blood and repair what her body will allow. I hate it when they resist, but just like my Drow, sometimes they need the pain, or the damage. Sometimes their souls hold onto wounds I could patch up with a thought. Still, hers knows what she needs, and if it's a slow healing process then so be it. At least she will survive. I can make sure of that much.

    When I have done all I can, I fly over to the boy, taking on a horse shape for just long enough to reassure a potentially frightened child. “Mama's going to be okay, little love,” I murmur, touching my nose to his shoulder. A tingle of connection flickers between us at that touch, but I know I'm intruding where I perhaps should not. “Just be brave a little longer, huh, sweet boy? Soon. She'll be with you soon.”

    I should leave, should fly away on easily overlooked bird wings. A blue jay, or a crow perhaps. But I won't leave the child unprotected while he waits for his mother to come to. Instead I stand over the little one, a stranger in a land that could have been my home in a life I never got to live, wearing a skin that weighs strangely on my shoulders. Black, just a hint of feathering on my legs, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing remarkable, not even my eyes. Brown masks the mismatched blue and gold, because somewhere along the line I learned subtlety. I'll watch, just long enough to make sure the boy and his mother are safe. And then I'll make myself scarce.
    I am the fire.

    ((She'll take off as soon as is reasonably possible and stay incognito in the meantime. Thanks for letting her butt in. <3))
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: i'm volatile and afraid to cry | birthing - gendry/any - by Quark - 07-03-2016, 11:52 PM



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