Day 61, Part 2
Sweet streaked through the forest at the echo of screams, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. What on Sornieth was going on? Those howls were bloodcurdling, mortal sounds -- worse than any cry of the night, the grunts and gurgles of Eden’s beasts. Her wings pedalled her as quickly as she could fly. This was not very fast; Sweet could feel her energy sapping away with every beat, but it was through persistence alone that she managed to find her way to a tiny clearing not far from where Talstae had perished.
She smelled it before she saw it. The coppery tang of blood crumpled her nose.
“Oh no oh no oh no,” she breathed.
As soon as the clearing came into view, the sight made made her stomach twist. She landed on a branch, her breath taken away, purple eyes wide.
“Holy Shadowbinder….”
She was shocked. So shocked, in fact, she could hardly process what if she was feeling anything else at the moment. Was there grief in witnessing her adoptive grandmother and uncle torn open, their blood pooled between them like some primordial elixir? Was there horror in seeing how those organs still glistened, how heat still seemed to be emanating from their deceased bodies? Was there dread in the visions of how the clan would react -- and her mother most of all?
Like an autumn leaf drifting from its branch at the trembling breath of winter, Sweet descended with an out of body hesitation towards the corpses of these loved ones. Tears welled in her eyes and she landed on Anzu’s drained body, feeling the last vestiges of the warmth he was so willing to share with Peasley and her. She trembled and fell on her knees, palming his fur in her little paws and choking back sobs.
“Uncle Anzy,” she whimpered, placing a paw close to the gash that had torn his life away. A chill went down her spine and she looked to Imriel, eyeing the shredded scales that exposed her esophagus to the daylight. Her tears couldn’t be held back any longer. “Grandma Imi?” she gulped, covering her paws over her eyes. “No… this is…
no….”
For a long while, the clearing was silent except for the bawling that ripped from Sweet’s soul. Everything else was gone -- her vendetta, her parents, her brother -- and all that she was rested here, splayed and dead and impossible to mourn for so quickly. She gagged over tears and snot and the miasma of gore.
It was almost an hour later when Sweet had finally calmed.
By now, her body had melded against Anzu’s side. She was crumpled -- as limp as her father when he got too lazy to move -- and her glazed purple eyes had been squeezed of all her tears. For the first time in what felt like her entire life, Sweet felt herself like a husk, devoid of feeling.
Her gaze wandered over and over again to those wounds, engraving every aspect of them into her mind.
After another moment, her eyes narrowed.
“Wait a gods-damned minute.”
She stood up abruptly, feeling a sudden surge of energy as she scrabbled towards the wound in Anzu’s chest. A haunting chill curved down her spine, the uncanny sensation of déjà vu. This gash’s precise circle -- its location -- suddenly smacked Sweet with the vision of Talstae, whose same neck had been torn and twisted open in such a way by none other than Lagoon. With a sharp gasp her head snapped to look at Imriel’s wound once more, this lean gash that had to have been done by a careful hand.
With Sweet’s new energy came a resurgence of rage.
“Damn her!” she screeched, pounding her little fists against Anzu’s side. Her purple eyes flared with a dangerous aura as she stood, looking towards the sky. “Lagoon! I know you’re out here somewhere. Face me, you witch! Face me and you’ll know vengeance!”
Her words echoed through the woods, and for a long moment, silence overwhelmed the clearing. Sweet’s breathing grew hard as she felt the agoraphobic exposure crush her like a Snapper’s foot. Then, with a slight growl, she straightened up, walking down Anzu’s tail towards the ground. “Screw waiting for the right moment,” Sweet muttered. “Lagoon needs to die -- and fast.”
Then, from behind her, came a whistling sound.
Sweet’s ears twitched and she looked up, her eyes growing wide as she saw a rusted cleaver falling like an arrow towards the ground. She yeeked and pulled back, watching as it embedded itself in the dirt mere inches away from her. A little citrine choker jingled against its hilt, tied to it along with a little note.
With a flap of her wings, she checked its message.
All it said was “Sweet.”
A cold smirk curled across her face. She unwrapped the choker and put it on, feeling its magic warm her paws. Placing a paw on the cleaver’s hilt, she felt it shrink down to a manageable size for a Fae. All it took was a small grunt of effort from there to remove it from the ground.
“Looks like payday is coming sooner than I thought,” she purred. Then, strapping the cleaver to her side, Sweet took off towards the training fields.
x
Peasley stood aside with Lagoon perched on his head, watching as Reda whistled gently to calm the feral hati that had run wild through the training fields. He reached a hand up to pet the tense Fae, recalling how disgruntled she seemed when she told him how her grounds had been invaded by a drooling beast with a parcel. As Lagoon calmed against his head, Peasley purred, his eyes nonetheless locked on the work of his beast-loving companion. Nearby, Lacewing and Humphrey also watched the Pearlcatcher perform his self-proclaimed “do-diligence.”
“…Easy, fella,” he murmured, leaning down politely before the hati and cupping his paw under the beast’s snout. It stepped forward cautiously, its nose whiffing the air before it nuzzled Reda’s paw. A low whine escaped his throat and he let go of a soggy scrap of paper that it had in its mouth. The Pearlcatcher smiled. “Good girl.”
He tried to open the page and frowned, straining. Reda then looked over his shoulder briefly at Peasley and Lagoon, tilting his hat back. “This daggum letter’s soaked through. Can’t make outta word.”
Peasley smiled and waved a paw as if to say “it’s fine.” Lagoon, meanwhile, continued to stare Reda down with her deep brown eyes. “Just retrieve the parcel already,” she breathed, her little claws scraping softly through Peasley’s intense fluff. “Then escort this beast away from my fields.”
Reda frowned. “She ain’t no beast. She’s got the makings of a fine friend.” He turned his attention towards the hati and smiled. “Don’tcha, girl?” With a gentle scratch at her chin, Reda caused the hati to start panting and wagging like a little hainu puppy.
From the side, Lacewing whistled.
“All right, Pops!” he called, slicking his spines back a little. “Say, do you think your methods on the animals would work on dragonesses as well?”
Humphrey quirked a brow at his older brother. “I doubt that.”
Reda chuckled. “Lace, I don’t think--.”
Lacewing stood up and put on a suave grin, strutting like a peacock before running a hand up his own chin. “Hey, pretty mama,” he cooed to the air, letting his head fall back in the most dramatic way he could. “I think you’re a
very good girl. I can
tame you like the fine beast you are.” He wiggled his scaly brows. “Awoo!”
With a small groan, Humphrey rolled his eyes. “What a doofus.”
“Hey!” Lacewing spun around and butted his nose against the Snapper’s snout. “Who’re you calling a ‘doofus?’”
Humphrey pulled back abruptly, his eyes narrowed. “Space, please.”
Lacewing snorted. “Pff, whatever.” He pulled back, smirking. “Methinks you’re just a little jealous that I’m so
suave and
cool.”
Peasley chuckled his airy chuckle from across the clearing as Reda shook his head, approaching the hatchlings with a look that bordered perfectly on firm and gentle. “Behave, boys. Y’all needa learn how to get along. And Lacewing--” he eyed his son in particular. “Never try to hit on a dragoness like that unless you wanna end up with your wings broken.”
The little Nocturne just smirked and snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, Pops.”
Reda opened his mouth to continue his discussion on flirting etiquette with Lacewing when a loud cry echoed through the clearing. “Lagoon!” It was Sweet’s voice -- loud and dangerous -- and at its sound, Peasley fluffed up and looked to the sky, his own purple eyes widening in fear. Lagoon didn’t even blink; she simply turned her head towards the sound. The hati yipped and hid in a bush. Lacewing silenced and Humphrey stiffened as Sweet careened into the clearing, unsheathing her cleaver with a roar as she descended like fury towards Lagoon’s head.
There wasn’t a moment to lose. Lagoon drew
carpe diem, ready to fight with her faithful companion once more. But -- just as Sweet’s cleaver was about to hit her sword -- another broadsword clashed in the way, and with a flick of the wrist the other Fae’s cleaver spun ten feet away and into the ground.
It was Reda. He had grabbed one of the practice broadswords, and -- panting -- held it in a defensive stance above Lagoon. Lacewing screamed and hid behind Humphrey, whose expression had narrowed. Peasley gasped in horror as Sweet ricocheted with the sword and landed on top of it.
There was something uncanny about her breathing….
“Back off, Reda!” Sweet hissed, yanking the cleaver back out of the ground. “This fight is mine.”
Reda continued to pant, his expression hard. “Funny,” he mumbled. “I didn’t get the vibe that it was for practice.”
“I said, back
off!” With a lunge, Sweet flung herself towards the Pearlcatcher with all her strength. He dodged with a sure-footedness that kicked up the dust. Blinded by rage, Sweet continued to swing the cleaver with all her might in Reda’s direction while Peasley grabbed Lagoon under his right arm.
The Earth Fae went limp in his arm, looking up at him with soft brown eyes. “It’s okay,” she breathed. “You can let go. I can handle this.”
At that, Peasley held her tighter. Lagoon’s face turned red.
I have to get them to safety.
The Tundra rushed to the hatchlings, grabbing Lacewing in his other arm. He moved Lagoon once more on top of his head, readying himself with the ungodly task of lifting up a baby Snapper as well. Humphrey, however, dodged Peasley’s attempt with surprising agility, taking off like a charging rhino towards the fight.
From the center of the clearing as Reda dodged, the dust swirled and gave him the markings of a true wind warrior: evading, but not avoiding. They glowed, blinding Sweet as Reda blocked another blow.
She turned her head, and saw Lagoon still on top of her brother, whose face was panicked as he let out a silent scream, reaching towards Humphrey.
“Peasley-- bro, don’t trust her!” Sweet squeaked, flitting away and under Reda. The Pearlcatcher attempted to grab her, but she swept low and out of reach. “Lagoon is evil! She has to be stopped. I must--.”
Something grabbed her cleaver.
Sweet choked, feeling her body forcefully lunge back as something clacked hard against the metal. The Fae twisted her head with a scowl before her chest was met with the thud of a heavy foot. Humphrey had her cleaver wedged in his jaw, and his weight alone was enough to pin Sweet’s adult body down like it was a scrap of paper. With a small gruntl, the Snapper spat away the metal cleaver with ease before turning his large face towards Sweet with a disapproving glare.
“Enough,” he growled.
Peasley raced to Humphrey’s side, and Reda flew over at once.
“Humphrey, y’all right?” he panted, digging the practice broadsword into the ground.
Lacewing gulped. “T-that was amazing,” he stammered, his bright green eyes surveying his brother with awe. “How’d you do that?”
Humphrey looked between them. He cleared his throat and held his head high, though he kept his stern face. “She had to be stopped, and so I stopped her. Simple.”
As he spoke, Sweet continued to struggle under his paw. She snarled and lashed, her eyes meeting those of her brother. Peasley’s expression was heart-wrenching, and for a moment, it almost tempered her anger: his jaw was slack, his brow furrowed, his eyes teary and filled with something like fear and betrayal and disappointment. It was a combination that almost brought her to her senses.
But, instead, it only sharpened them.
Sweet slackened, her gaze shifting to Lagoon, who was as infuriatingly calm and neutral as ever. The hati poked her head out of the bush, and Reda whistled for her to join his side. She did so, and the whole clearing had their eyes on Sweet as she stared the Earth Fae down.
“Lagoon,” she said. “I charge you with treason and the murders of Talstae, Anzu, and Imriel.”
The cleaver and citrine choker are from @OverTheWolf and everything else was from that lovely anon! In terms of multiples, I received three of each Hybrid Fragment and 20 Health Potions.
Honestly, I’m still pretty shaken by the deaths of Imriel and Anzu -- so shaken, in fact, I forgot to mention that I’ll be holding onto them until Friday evening. Please discuss amongst yourselves as to who would like to take either of these babies, if any of you would like to give them a good home. If not, don’t fear -- they can be exalted honorably. They’ve done us all proud.
In other news: suspense.
I hope none of you mind that I’m too depressed at the moment to really reply to comments. Just know that I appreciate every single one of them. :( I’m so sorry.
Also, Barda is officially the oldest dragon of the ‘locke now.
#ProtectBarda #ProtectJac #ProtectPeasley #ScrewAdamAndEve
@Meonox @InHeritent @tahwarts @Elzerei @Silverhame @Whimzica @PaintedLiger @Achi @fairyhalo @221bdisneystreet @Deathwolf555 @Skyeset @Ambrose @GreyMoth @End3rStorm @NyxHeart @ScienceGal8 @wintergreenroses @Abysea @softbun @Amerigland @Shanuuk @Lae @Purpleberries @Delmaria @Tempestuous @Alixe
