06-29-2021, 01:28 PM
Enough, he says, but really, it's too much. The magic isn't used to changing so abruptly, it isn't used to changing at all, because the Child was the thing that the Mother had feared already. It had been simple to just keep that shape all the time and this thaumaturgical outburst leaves it weak, fatigued. When she blinks again, the blue eyes are gone, returned to their normal darkness. The demon is stalking forward to strike her down and the girl smiles at him, her head tilted to one side, and she matches his forward movement as if it's a game or a dance.
The coal in her chest that tells her something isn't quite right is burning again, but she doesn't know how to fix it. Becoming the pretty mare with the blood hadn't fixed it, but perhaps Draco can. She knows, from her many months in this shape, that children cannot do a great deal, that her mother had to find them food and safe places, and that it was Starlust not Enthrall who was tasked with navigating the Nightworld and its monsters. But now it is Draco and Enthrall and she beams up at him with shining helplessness as if she had not a moment ago worn his dying lover's skin.
"Speak." She repeats, and, "Draco."
And then her curled tail wags triumphantly as if this is answering his question (and it does, but not in the way he means.)
"Mother, out. Alone." The girl continues, confusedly, repeating the stallion's own words back at him in a disjointed attempt at communication. Speech had rarely seemed necessary to the magic when she was with the white mare, it had not paid much attention, only collecting words like seashells and parroting them back when needed. Now, weary but clear-headed, the child-that-is-not-a-child feels the disadvantage of this, and it makes the burn in her chest flare hotter, makes her squirm under the red-eyed gaze.
"Can you hello girl?" This sentence makes her face twist, some piece of it is wrong, but she isn't sure how, or why, only that the feel of it is strange on her tongue. small ears turn back but this doesn't help her. She's missing too many pieces.
Enthrall The only thing to fear
The coal in her chest that tells her something isn't quite right is burning again, but she doesn't know how to fix it. Becoming the pretty mare with the blood hadn't fixed it, but perhaps Draco can. She knows, from her many months in this shape, that children cannot do a great deal, that her mother had to find them food and safe places, and that it was Starlust not Enthrall who was tasked with navigating the Nightworld and its monsters. But now it is Draco and Enthrall and she beams up at him with shining helplessness as if she had not a moment ago worn his dying lover's skin.
"Speak." She repeats, and, "Draco."
And then her curled tail wags triumphantly as if this is answering his question (and it does, but not in the way he means.)
"Mother, out. Alone." The girl continues, confusedly, repeating the stallion's own words back at him in a disjointed attempt at communication. Speech had rarely seemed necessary to the magic when she was with the white mare, it had not paid much attention, only collecting words like seashells and parroting them back when needed. Now, weary but clear-headed, the child-that-is-not-a-child feels the disadvantage of this, and it makes the burn in her chest flare hotter, makes her squirm under the red-eyed gaze.
"Can you hello girl?" This sentence makes her face twist, some piece of it is wrong, but she isn't sure how, or why, only that the feel of it is strange on her tongue. small ears turn back but this doesn't help her. She's missing too many pieces.
@draco