Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-28358106-20180824034808

Tirush is still circling overhead as Pramool makes his appearance, and only watches from above as the conversation takes place. She knows that she is conspicuous, even up in the air, in the cloud of ash and embers, but even still it is her only advantage. She is sure that Pramool knows she is there. But when her name is spoken, and Acheron's hand is severed, she knows she has little choice.

She has, in fact, no choice at all.

She heels back and hovers, an updraft keeping her aloft and in one place. Her tail stretches behind her, steering her through the current. All of her anger, all of her sadness and frustration, every bitter fruit that this trip has borne, comes to nothing. What is before them is beyond even her. The song of her pent up rage, the thundering of her heart, becomes a rhythm in her ears, with the howling wind and the roar of the fire below.

What would her daughter be told?

The time had come to find out.

She doesn't blink as she speaks. Her voice is lost in the tumult of the embered storm around her, the words barely past her lips before being lost as her eyes search out her prey below, her words meant for another.

"I will always love you, my child..."

Her wings fold.

She dives.

Like a silent thunderbolt. Like a meteor. Air rushing past her, flecks of drying blood flipping past her mantle and across her face, her broken horn howling in the wind. Her wings unfurl slowly, catching her, keeping her screaming speed as high as possible. Her wings open, and she levels out, at head-height. Her taloned feet swing forward, coiled with muscles that could rip through a castle door. Her pupils are knife slits, her eyes fixed on Pramool. In seconds she has closed the distance of a hundred yards, a silent hunter, in her one chance to strike a blow. In a blink, her talons are feet from his back...

He doesn't even look up at her.

Something hits her. A deep, meaty sound, of flesh struck and bones cracking, loud as a thunderclap, and Tirush arcs through the air.

For dozens of yards she rolls, end over end, her limbs flailing, bending of their own accord. She hits the ground and cartwheels, flopping. She comes to a stop. She doesn't move.

Lying on the ground, she looks like a marionette with its strings cut. Her eyes are wide, her mouth open. Seconds pass. Then, she gasps, blinking. She coughs as she comes to. Blood, sizzling, spatters from her mouth.

Coughing, she tries to turn over. She can't feel her right arm. Her right leg is bent beneath her, and outward. She can't feel it, either. Her right eye is red, her blood pooling there from a ruptured vein. She is half blind. Her arm is dislocated, her wing shattered.

She can't think. Where was she? What had happened? Why couldn't she feel her legs? She coughed, and coughed, air not finding its way into her lungs. Something leaks blood into them. Slowly, but it is there. She coughs and coughs, the cough wetter now. She spits. She can breathe a little, she gasps, and gasps, deep draughts of air. But then her lungs tighten again, and she coughs again.

Shaking, she tries to turn over. Her body doesn't obey, the shock begins to wear off, and the pain begins.

Beyond pain.

She clenches her eyes and opens her mouth to cry out, but she can't breathe again. She coughs, each cough bringing knives to her side. She coughs, and blood runs from her mouth. She groans, gasping, turning over to breathe easier. It doesn't work.

She lies on her side, gasping rapidly, moaning. Her moans fade, her eyes roll up, and she slips into black unconsciousness.