03-16-2016, 01:50 PM
PHAEDRUS
Panting, his sides heave glossy black. Sweat and blood mingle and create a stench of deat. The entire one side of his body completely covered in crimson poke-a-dots. his black wing filled with holes that one could see through if they scrutinized him close enough. His hooves bloody and covered in the gore of other lives. He would live, but recovery would take a long time. No organs were punctured, his head and bones were perfectly fine. Just his hyde was completely marred with the results of trying to strangle a horse with spikes. He was lucky.
No one could doubt that he was lucky to walk away as he had. With his wings covered in icicles and his back sore from the stretch and quick rebound he makes his way back to his herdland slow and careful to not desturb anyone else. When he does arrive the oasis is his first stop, dipping in the cool water to wash away the blood, he begins to chew at the ice on his feathers, a few getting yanked off with the water. It had been a long battle, and as soon as the kings and queens had taken over the others simply dispersed. The idiots could finish it themselves. They didn't need him anymore, and besides not like he was going to be any use for anyone after that injury.
Head low he bites back each searing scream of his muscles. Collapsing on the shore of the pool blue mane tattered and chunks of cobalt hair and black skin missing from the shredding effects of the spikes. He had saved Weir, and allowed Ramiel a way of attack. It was something. In all the failures of his life at least he helped his king, and best friend.
Dark thoughts take over his head, and his brow furrows wtih the black clouds of hateful thoughts that turmoil in his mind. He should have stayed there must have been something that he could have done more. There must have been something that he could have done better. Watching Weir be knocked out, even after Phaedrus had sacrificed his wings for the man made him madder than hell. He was a failure, always would be. Everything good he tried the worse he made things.
He couldn't imagine that the mares here would be to happy with him either, not like he had been present for a long time. He had abandoned them just as he had everyone else. Being around him they would suffer, he just knew it. What was he to do? Should he give up his land and send the mares to a stallion that would be present for them? Should he just get up walk away and never return? It wasn't fair to them, he was a dissapointment just as he always had been.
No one could doubt that he was lucky to walk away as he had. With his wings covered in icicles and his back sore from the stretch and quick rebound he makes his way back to his herdland slow and careful to not desturb anyone else. When he does arrive the oasis is his first stop, dipping in the cool water to wash away the blood, he begins to chew at the ice on his feathers, a few getting yanked off with the water. It had been a long battle, and as soon as the kings and queens had taken over the others simply dispersed. The idiots could finish it themselves. They didn't need him anymore, and besides not like he was going to be any use for anyone after that injury.
Head low he bites back each searing scream of his muscles. Collapsing on the shore of the pool blue mane tattered and chunks of cobalt hair and black skin missing from the shredding effects of the spikes. He had saved Weir, and allowed Ramiel a way of attack. It was something. In all the failures of his life at least he helped his king, and best friend.
Dark thoughts take over his head, and his brow furrows wtih the black clouds of hateful thoughts that turmoil in his mind. He should have stayed there must have been something that he could have done more. There must have been something that he could have done better. Watching Weir be knocked out, even after Phaedrus had sacrificed his wings for the man made him madder than hell. He was a failure, always would be. Everything good he tried the worse he made things.
He couldn't imagine that the mares here would be to happy with him either, not like he had been present for a long time. He had abandoned them just as he had everyone else. Being around him they would suffer, he just knew it. What was he to do? Should he give up his land and send the mares to a stallion that would be present for them? Should he just get up walk away and never return? It wasn't fair to them, he was a dissapointment just as he always had been.
i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must