| Perhaps the Rule of Equivalent Exchange; Zet/Char's Healing; Sempling please | |
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| Topic Started: May 29 2018, 11:35 PM (45 Views) | |
| Silverfeather | May 29 2018, 11:35 PM Post #1 |
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Zetier had expected the Fire to be angry when they had finally reunited, and for sure--he was. He had snarled and cussed, but eventually had turned a cold shoulder to his rider. Why the fire even cared, the male didn’t know. Probably because he had been, as the fire put it, fraternizing the enemy than in any form of worry or care. The Fire didn’t care--had stated multiple times that he could wander off and die and the fire would be fine. So the rider was slightly shocked that the fire had snapped his furious comments before tearing them off somewhere to hide away. The fire wasn’t going to let him sneak away again like that. The fire didn’t care, really, what his rider did or what he did. He only knew the consequences for such an act would not care that the Fire wouldn’t have thought to do such a thing. The legion had eyes everywhere; and they were in, more or less, war again. The shaky ceasefire had basically been broken. It would do him no good to be seen as a traitor. If the rider wanted to survive, he would be more wiser. He should have killed the forest the moment he had seen her, the Fire lamented. It was far too late now. The legion had spies everywhere. He should have remembered that. While the taint were far less a hive mind controlled by the taint and more or less free individuals, there were still rules. And punishments for those that broke the rules. To be honest the Fire could have cared less about either side, about war. If anything, he would rather be left alone to eat, and do as he pleased. And he had been able to do that, to haunt little villages near the edge of tainted control and even a little ways into neutral lands. He supposed that was where he had went wrong. He should have strayed closer to their regions than playing with fire. When reaching the borders of their own contro, high north in the pine forests, were they ambushed by several dragons. Whether they were acting on orders to bring them in, or whether to prove themselves and teach them a lesson, the fire didn’t know. It was truly, the first form of a true fight no...battle that the fire had found himself in. Not a stranger to fighting, he always played it to his advantage. Here, he had none. He would not win this. That he knew. Three against one, two very much larger than himself, the fire wouldn’t win. He might be able to get one down; another maybe injured, but it was a fight he wouldn’t win. And he would rather not fight that battle. So he decided on a tactical retreat. Or at least tried to. The Fight drew his rider in, and his uncanny strength came in handy--but ultimately didn’t throw them any favors for the fight. The forest turned against them, acid ate at his scales from the forest. He breathed his own fire and destruction, striking when he had to, fighting for every inch of ground. But the Earth, taking the moment when the fire hit the ground to throw the ground around them, chaining him to the ground laughed. This was it, the fire struggled, his muscles tiring from struggling. They taunted him, them both, his rider being plucked from his back. For sure they had won. But the fire was patient. They made camp, the fire waiting, acid eyes watching as they beat His rider, who only screamed profanities back at them. He had to give his rider some credit. He didn’t break; he didn’t say a word about anything except perhaps to insult them. When they were unawares, half away asleep, and drunk did the fire’s careful ministrations of wiggling softly to loose the earth; and as soon as he felt most of it gave way did he lunge. Grabbing his rider roughly from his own prison, he leashed hell of fire to burn anything in his path as he shot off in the panic. At least one of the riders hadn’t been fortunate to get out of his way. But he hadn’t gotten away unscathed, the forest and earth made something to leash around his foot, binding it. But what coordinated attacks they had had before had been lost in the midnight escape plan and the third came barreling in to break the leash. At least he had tried to make up for it by his own teeth catching the fire’s hind left foot. Char roared in pain, aiming a blast of fire at the others face which caused them to release and take off with his rider. His foot was gone, that was for sure, but he didn’t dare stop. But Zet was in his own struggle with a rider that had gotten aboard the fleeing fire. If they couldn’t take them, then at least for sure, he was going to kill one. It was fight above air, that eventually threw them overboard. But his foot had gotten caught in broken leather straps and vines, bones cracking and popping as he dangled in pain. The other, managed to stay on. Zet struggled to get right, to get out of the trap that laid on his dragon. Till he was falling. The weapon the other rider cleaving his own foot. He would die on impact, the fire rider knew this. Well, he supposed he had a good run. He closed his eyes before something stopped him hard. Brown multi-orbs snapped open to see the fire catch him. The other being flung off by the sudden dive. Thus, wounded and exhausted they flew. His Vision swam, blood pouring down from the wound, the stump that had been hacked off, and Zet wondered if he would even live. The barely stopped, only to char the wounds with fire--which was even more painful than the hacking of his foot, and for water. What water he could swallow. Where were they going? He didn’t know. But he knew where they should go. It would be risky. And he didn’t even know if they would take him--but Imesta had been adamant that they would if they came and asked. If they threw the legion behind them, the academy would take them. There would be stipulations, he was sure. His mind racked. They had to take him. Zetier had to make them take them. Despite being delirious with pain, his mind thought of Kimalles’s scales that glittered. Glass. She was a glass dragon--a breed. Not a glass-cannon, no. There were many breeds at the academy and He knew something they didn’t. He had information. Why his mind thought of that, he didn’t know. While Imesta would have faith that they would take him in on promise of good behaviour and certain guards and other things--Zet didn’t have that faith. He didn’t want to be locked up in a prison. He hissed, garnering the fire’s attention. “L-L-Lihn.” “Right, Like I’m going to trust those cretins with anything. They’re the enemy” It was difficult to stay conscious, to wonder what possessed the fire to even save him, but he didn’t have time to think. “Looks like We’re already traitors to the legion’ He spat the name, his nose wrinkling. He could tell the fire was getting ready to leave again. They had covered miles, but that didn't mean any others could suddenly turn up to finish them off. They would not be able to win. “M-M-Might as go to them--They’ll..They’ll take us. They’ll -have- too.” “Oh they will will they? We’re just going to march up to a scout pair or any sekkain pair and they’ll be like ‘oh woe is them, sure we’ll take you.” The Fire snarled. “I doubt they will, they would more than likely finish it--put us out of our misery, and anything we could barter they could just take or glean.” The ground looked like it was the sky now, and Zet took a deep breath. “That’s not--” “Have you also forgotten the oddness to our bond, as well? What makes us different…?” Acidic green eyes observed the rider, as he himself debated just finishing him off here. Then he could be free. Lay low, heal and then return when everything had died down. “You’re the one who put us in this mess, rider. Or have you forgotten. Going off with that bitch of a” “Perhaps you should shut your maw and listen.” The fire snapped, the insult to Imesta being the final straw.. “I didn’t say, go to a scout. I said go to Lihn.” He moved, leaning against the tree that his fire had placed them against. They were far far from the place of attack, he had no idea where, but close to Vien in actuality. “Go to the Academy. Right smack in the grounds. They have...They have a way to heal us--whatever that means and then they can heal the rest. If we have to Imesta would stick her neck out for us. For you, despite how you are.” If the dragon had fur, they’d be standing on in. “We denounce the legion--we give them information for a trade of healing and then we’ll be free. I’m sure there’ll prolly be a set of guards--but at this rate we may be bed bound. Eventually, they’ll see us as not a threat and you can laze and eat as much as you want. We won’t have to deal with those thugs, won't’ have to worry about having to watch our backs or stay in hiding. And the resources will be plenty enough.” He closed his eyes, the shadows dancing and he swore he saw Imesta running up to them. But the fire wasn’t reacting at all to that, merely watching him, so then therefore she wasn’t really there. “Our..Best..bet if you’d swallow your damned pride.” Did the fire have pride, yes he was sure. They all did to an extent. They rested, as much as they could before the fire grabbed the male and took off. He hadn’t awoken even with the jostling and the fire was tiring. He would have to make the trip with little stops. He ached, he was in pain. And the fire riders plan had been a sound one, if not a foolish one to the fire. But his wings pumped and he flew. For days on end, he flew, keeping to himself, eating when he needed and brief stops to rest when he couldn’t fly any longer. The male was in and out of consciousness, mutterings and other mad ramblings---much like he had been during lessons. All in all, the fire found himself following the riders line of thought. How they had known where to find him, where he would be, irked the fire--he had thought he was so careful, so persistent. It was either join the other side or be hunted by both for all of time. And while both left a bitter tasting feeling in the back of his throat, joining the other side, becoming the other enemy was an easier pill to swallow for the Fire. If anything because, if the rider was right, after a certain amount of time, he was sure, he’d be left alone.To his own devices. At least, Zetier had thought that. If he had to trust anything, or anyone it might as well be the blasted man. So far, the male had proved himself--had been right on more than one occasion, despite his attitude. And looked to be able to get them out of this mess, despite it being unsavory to the fire. It was late morning when the forests of nyushi parted ways to the academy. Already, he knew eyes were on him the moment he passed into the walls, angling for the fields--better not to try to get anywhere closer to the building, nor could he really make it that far. His ruby and yellow seared scales stood out in the bright sun and he hissed. His mind rankled at being so close to them. His hive mind knew they were not them. Something whispered at him to tear and rend to the death of any pair that he could, but he squashed it. He couldn’t even if he had really wanted to. He landed, hard. Earth, grass, brush went flying as weary limbs collapsed underneath, the fire skidding to a halt in a storm of dust, and hot debris. He had no doubt that they would come--flocking to the scene- Heavily armored guards and others to point sharp weapons. He snarled at them, coiling around his rider who had jolted awake. “Tell them” He gasped. “Request to be healed. Do..Do what you have to to get healed. They’re not the enemy. Not anymore. Beneath us, maybe. But it’s our only option.” he managed to gasp out, to remind the fire. They weren’t here to fight. For sure, the fire was a sight to the sekkains who did come to investigate the intruder. They were far enough from the academy that the fire was semi-comfortable, but close enough that they weren’t just going to ignore him. Blood, dried and new glistened on his hide, various wounds coated his body, but the most ghastly was the twisted and mangled foot that was barely hanging on. Charred and rotting meat stenched the fire--there was no saving the leg. The rider, from what they could see behind clasped talons, didn’t look to be in any good shape either. His own foot was gone, just a charred and bleeding stump at the ankle, if not a bit higher. As they approached, the fire hissed out, chomping on the reigns. He didn’t like the position he was in, but really, what choice did the fire have? He had committed himself to this act and he might as well go with it. No one could stop him now. The legion was far gone, they would be safe here, would they? The fire would have to see, but his rider peered over, waking again. Waking enough to call out that they came in peace. “We wish to denounce” he coughed, wheezing as he gagged--nothing in his stomach to heave up. “To Denounce the legion--to be healed. We..we have….” He nearly fainted. “We have information in exchange of healing. We’ll submit ourselves.” He hissed. “Something of note, of worth.” He flung something up--a white flag? And Fell silent as he struggled to stay conscious. It would better for him to do the talking than the fire who growled at anyone getting near them--but it would be apparent that CHar would be all bark and absolutely no bite. He had been as loud as possible, for them to hear him. They could only hope that they would listen and do the thing Imesta said they would. That they would heal them, and let them heal. They would need to be holed up in the infirmary for awhile, but that would probably be welcome respite to what the fire pair had just been through. |
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7:51 PM Jul 10