EVERYONE

[Rhysand]

(Slight editing)

"Destroy him."

The words are spoken with a dumbfounded humor. The wraith had not feared the boy. For the wraith feared nothing. His words were quick and sharp, knives into the crumbling facade he had built. Petal-shaped ears flatten to the curve of his elegant neck, but not in defiance this time. It is fear that causes his muscles to tighten and his eyes to water. All he wanted was to live as he had been taught. 

Speak your mind, fight for what is right. 

Sylva succumbing to murderers was not what he felt was meant to happen.

His eyes dry, brows tilting in the way of pure fury as he stared dead ahead at his executioner. For if he was to go down, this would be the way. He stands tall, for he would die proudly. 

"Do it."

And then there is screaming, harrowing yells as the roan mare jumps before him, her bodice protecting the painted boy from ravaging claws and murderous rage. Though this is not enough, he is caught in a tangled manner of teeth, hoof, and claw. He can feel his bones snapping beneath the crushing weight of it all, and deep in the conundrum is his father. urging him to move, to leave. 

But the painted child cannot move, for he is motionless. Dead but not quite. Once blindingly alabaster puzzle pieces are stained crimson with blood, who's blood it is lost to his muted mind. He is moving now, though it is not him that is doing so. There are teeth, sharp as daggers dragging him away from it all and into the woods. 

"Father?"

He whispers, his voice strained as he raises his head. It is dark. He is unable to see his savior in the woods. 

"No child, I am not your father."

And then there is pain as his bone is crushed, lean legs turning to paste beneath the powerful crack of hooves.

His leg is broken, and he is motionless. 

Was he dying?

The voice returns, calloused and deadly. it is venom seeping into his dying veins. His eyes see the equine now, dark gray with hollow, dead eyes. 

"Am I going to die?"

He asked, strangely calmed by the sight of the other. They laugh, an empty sound long since void of emotion.

"No no boy... but that leg will never be the same. Use it as a sign when you deliver my message.."

Golden eyes meet his own emerald hues, the face he stares into is angles and planes, death reformed.

"Tell them all, the true king of Beqanna has come. We will take it all. Every tree, every rock, every leaf. Let them see you and know we care not what we do to get it."

And then they are gone, a phantom of the forest.

~

((OOC: this is a shitty post to a bomb thread. SORRY EVERYONE. Injuries sustained: Broken rib and leg (leg will never heal properly and he will walk with a limp) Scars are to now litter his frame and permanent mental trauma is sustained.))