like going on a wild hunt; zoryn

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

Seeing him brings it all rushing back.

It is like the world is moving in fast forward and she is standing still, everything rushing in around her. She does not move—she is not even certain that she could if she tried. Everything warps, her pulse thudding violently, her hazel eyes holding onto him, her crimson lips pressed together into a flat line. She remans still, save for the feel of the copper wings at her side, the weight of them sturdy, reassuring. She is not a violent creature, but it is good to know that she had some level of defense; some protection.

Whatever fight she may have had though, whatever fury may have boiled in her veins, rushes out at what he says. A child. Dovev—he had a child. Not only did he have another mare, but he had given her a child to carry and to raise and to love. The image sears into her mind and she closes her eyes for a moment, feeling her knees lock. How could she have been so dumb? How could she have been so utterly foolish?

His touch brings her back, causing a flinch, the edges of her flesh rippling without her consent underneath the warmth of his breath. So similar to the possessive way Dovev had touched her, but so wrong—all wrong. Where the touches of Dovev had always been tempered with something else, this was just ugly.

This was all wrong.

Warning bells sound in her head, but she is rooted to the spot, mind still reeling from the revelation.

It isn’t until he bites her that she moves, that she reacts at all.

She sidesteps quickly, neck stinging from the pressure of his teeth, but the pain nothing when compared to the agony that thrashes within her. She lifts her gaze to find his, and although the pain is unmistakable, the crippling ache, there is steel there too—a strength. “Do not touch me,” is all she says quietly, because she is not anyone’s pet to own, and certainly not this stallion’s. She belongs to the stars. Not mortal claim.

That does not stop the fear that ripples beneath the surface though. That does not stop the uncertainty the causes her belly to clench, red flags thrown as she holds his gaze. This was more than just a way to throw it in her face. This was not just a sadistic game. Her wings shift and the metallic clink is unmistakable but she doesn’t move. She just lifts her chin defiantly, staring at him silently with her bruised eyes.

She would not run.

She would not cry.

She would not give him these things that he craves so easily.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow