11-12-2019, 03:59 PM
The first scent of danger came too late. He should have known better, he really should. But just as it did with his mother, the change in temper came on with little outward warning. One moment he was about ready to lift up the slight girl, to haul her someplace safer than this. The next, he realized that perhaps the danger wasn't quite what he thought it was.
There was not much that scared the dragon. Santana was scared by a bit more, and women who turned on him made the list. He took a step back, too little too late. The great beast who shared his body reared its head, observed with wary concentration as Santana recoiled from her biting tone. His mind slipped, tripped into her grasp. The beast within snarled at the invasion, a low earth-quakimg rumble as it felt the bonds Santana had worked so hard to place weaken.
Santana watched in sullen silence as her power gripped him, spun his mind into her own. The creature she revealed herself as was beautiful in the way that vipers were. A predator as surely as the dragon itself was. She plunged sharp nailed claws into the very core of his being, the soft white ghost of him. It would have been effective, if she had done it properly. He could not speak in this state, could hardly breath. It was the feeling of being stretched and crushed simultaneously.
She spoke, ringing in his head and drowning out any other thought but the ones she placed on him.
Enough!
Eyas clutched Santana's soul. The dragon reared, triumphant. Minds fought in their own way, and none were any the wiser as his body threw off the contained shape of the stallion. Scaled, clawed, fire and ice, the dragon rose to the front of him, took over more thoroughly than it ever had before. Why not, when there was no other voice to rein it in?
They returned. Or tried to. When Eyas released the illusion on Tana's mind, it was not a horse who stood in the field. A gleaming drake had taken his place, grinning toothily at the pegasus mare where she stood.
Little Eyas. He called you pheasant? How appropriate.
Clawed feet gouged the earth as he slunk forward, no trace of the stallion remaining in his glowing eyes. His hot breath lifted stringy tendrils of her mane, one claw lifted to stroke her hollow cheek. It trailed down her neck, parting her coat with a razor's edge only to settle at the base of her throat in a loose grip.
I suppose I should thank you. As reward for releasing me, I'll give you a head start. Fly away little pheasant, or be my next meal.
The voice was not Santana's. It was the sound of rockslides and crackling embers that only happened to form words. There was no soul behind them, only slavering, mindless hunger. The great beast was freed.
@[Eyas]
There was not much that scared the dragon. Santana was scared by a bit more, and women who turned on him made the list. He took a step back, too little too late. The great beast who shared his body reared its head, observed with wary concentration as Santana recoiled from her biting tone. His mind slipped, tripped into her grasp. The beast within snarled at the invasion, a low earth-quakimg rumble as it felt the bonds Santana had worked so hard to place weaken.
Santana watched in sullen silence as her power gripped him, spun his mind into her own. The creature she revealed herself as was beautiful in the way that vipers were. A predator as surely as the dragon itself was. She plunged sharp nailed claws into the very core of his being, the soft white ghost of him. It would have been effective, if she had done it properly. He could not speak in this state, could hardly breath. It was the feeling of being stretched and crushed simultaneously.
She spoke, ringing in his head and drowning out any other thought but the ones she placed on him.
Enough!
Eyas clutched Santana's soul. The dragon reared, triumphant. Minds fought in their own way, and none were any the wiser as his body threw off the contained shape of the stallion. Scaled, clawed, fire and ice, the dragon rose to the front of him, took over more thoroughly than it ever had before. Why not, when there was no other voice to rein it in?
They returned. Or tried to. When Eyas released the illusion on Tana's mind, it was not a horse who stood in the field. A gleaming drake had taken his place, grinning toothily at the pegasus mare where she stood.
Little Eyas. He called you pheasant? How appropriate.
Clawed feet gouged the earth as he slunk forward, no trace of the stallion remaining in his glowing eyes. His hot breath lifted stringy tendrils of her mane, one claw lifted to stroke her hollow cheek. It trailed down her neck, parting her coat with a razor's edge only to settle at the base of her throat in a loose grip.
I suppose I should thank you. As reward for releasing me, I'll give you a head start. Fly away little pheasant, or be my next meal.
The voice was not Santana's. It was the sound of rockslides and crackling embers that only happened to form words. There was no soul behind them, only slavering, mindless hunger. The great beast was freed.
@[Eyas]