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Open Wicked things
- Thread starter Laric
- Start date
"Good grief, this certainly encapsulates the very place I would hate to die in." Leo scrunched up her face in distaste. She could practically taste the dryness out here, and not just the crisp rustle of leaves raking against another. Whatever transpired here liked to suck the life out of whatever alive thing that lingered here too long.
The crows would get a good feast if this all goes wrong.
She tried to look past the fields of withering sunflowers, to glimpse the grazing grounds beyond. There was a breeze about, beckoning a chill every minute that sun sinks lower beneath the horizon.
"Well, comrade. Shall we head on?" She turned to look to the other cazadore, quirking a brow.
The crows would get a good feast if this all goes wrong.
She tried to look past the fields of withering sunflowers, to glimpse the grazing grounds beyond. There was a breeze about, beckoning a chill every minute that sun sinks lower beneath the horizon.
"Well, comrade. Shall we head on?" She turned to look to the other cazadore, quirking a brow.
Her pale eyes slid to the escorts as they handed over the reins. Tall, gold-haired, both beautiful as elven relics. “Right,” she muttered.
Daniyah swung up into the saddle with the practiced ease of someone who’d mounted more horses than she’d mounted beds. She had spent a year on the Zelevir steppe, hunting strzygas, rusalkas, and bukavacs mounted on a shaggy, iron-legged stallion. The kind of horse that did not flinch at the bite of wolves or the crack of a distant thunderstorm. Daniyah missed the wide, wind-bitten plains where the grass whispered under a cold sun. She missed the riders she rode with, the rough laughter over smoldering fires, the clatter of boots on frozen earth. The way a shared glance could mean life or death. She missed Dima.
The black gelding shifted once under her, then stilled. Good temperament, steady spine. Daniyah liked it immediately.
“Lead on then.” Clicked her tongue to get the gelding moving. The ride was easy at first, the late sun casting long shadows that made the horses’ legs stretch like ink across the road. Daniyah kept to the rear flank, letting Leo and the escorts take point.
Her gaze roamed the treeline and the tilled earth beyond, searching for signs. The sunflowers rose from the earth like a dying army, brittle heads bowed as though in mourning, leaves shriveled into brown claws. A crow screeched above them. Another answered from the field. Daniyah studied the man when he talked. Too pretty for comfort.
Her gaze slipped past him into the rows of stalks swaying and dry rustling. “Good.” She nudged her horse forward until she rode level with the escorts. "You two, who’ve ridden this stretch more than once. Tell me,” Daniyah continued, “Anything weird ever happened out there?" The gelding stamped once, uneasy. Daniyah stroked its neck absently, eyes on the withering sunflowers.
Daniyah swung up into the saddle with the practiced ease of someone who’d mounted more horses than she’d mounted beds. She had spent a year on the Zelevir steppe, hunting strzygas, rusalkas, and bukavacs mounted on a shaggy, iron-legged stallion. The kind of horse that did not flinch at the bite of wolves or the crack of a distant thunderstorm. Daniyah missed the wide, wind-bitten plains where the grass whispered under a cold sun. She missed the riders she rode with, the rough laughter over smoldering fires, the clatter of boots on frozen earth. The way a shared glance could mean life or death. She missed Dima.
The black gelding shifted once under her, then stilled. Good temperament, steady spine. Daniyah liked it immediately.
“Lead on then.” Clicked her tongue to get the gelding moving. The ride was easy at first, the late sun casting long shadows that made the horses’ legs stretch like ink across the road. Daniyah kept to the rear flank, letting Leo and the escorts take point.
Her gaze roamed the treeline and the tilled earth beyond, searching for signs. The sunflowers rose from the earth like a dying army, brittle heads bowed as though in mourning, leaves shriveled into brown claws. A crow screeched above them. Another answered from the field. Daniyah studied the man when he talked. Too pretty for comfort.
Her gaze slipped past him into the rows of stalks swaying and dry rustling. “Good.” She nudged her horse forward until she rode level with the escorts. "You two, who’ve ridden this stretch more than once. Tell me,” Daniyah continued, “Anything weird ever happened out there?" The gelding stamped once, uneasy. Daniyah stroked its neck absently, eyes on the withering sunflowers.
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- Character Profile
- Profile
How in the mirrored hells Garrod had wound up lost in a field of sunflowers was beyond him. Face twisted up in a snarl and growl, all teeth bared and sweat struck. He stomped his way through what felt like the eight bend that would lead to a clearing.
Not that he could see a damned fucking thing over the flower's fat heads as he bulled over thick stalks. Had half the mind to take his blade to them. But the dulling wasn't worth it. So he settled for grunting and muttering, hissing and cursing.
His fiend just laughed. All twisted metal starting to crack. Well, isn't this fun, Oh Bearer Mine? Did you see this in your little, ink?
A growl from his throat. He drew his dueling sword in smooth slip, and hacked at the flowers. Again and again, all wafts of pollen swirled in the ruined flower's wake. Stalks falling. Seeds spilling out and rattling in their husks. Until he was covered in stalk spray and flower dust. A right haze of it.
Sliced through the last set of stalks and found the Wraithbinder just... saddled there. Panting, sword at the end of a downward cut. He glared. At the silver witch. At the Spellbreaker. And at the two freakish twins. "What in the fuck," he muttered as he stared them all down.
Not that he could see a damned fucking thing over the flower's fat heads as he bulled over thick stalks. Had half the mind to take his blade to them. But the dulling wasn't worth it. So he settled for grunting and muttering, hissing and cursing.
His fiend just laughed. All twisted metal starting to crack. Well, isn't this fun, Oh Bearer Mine? Did you see this in your little, ink?
A growl from his throat. He drew his dueling sword in smooth slip, and hacked at the flowers. Again and again, all wafts of pollen swirled in the ruined flower's wake. Stalks falling. Seeds spilling out and rattling in their husks. Until he was covered in stalk spray and flower dust. A right haze of it.
Sliced through the last set of stalks and found the Wraithbinder just... saddled there. Panting, sword at the end of a downward cut. He glared. At the silver witch. At the Spellbreaker. And at the two freakish twins. "What in the fuck," he muttered as he stared them all down.
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She should have listened to what was said about the area, but she felt something move just beyond. Her eyes snapped up, waiting and watching, and poised to weave whatever shroud spells that would be at the tip of her tongue.
Once she saw who it was, her shoulders sagged as she gave an exasperated sigh.
"It is good to see you again, cazadore."
"No it's not." Leo scoffed before arranging her face into a scowl. "After all that broken nib and splotch of ink, now you show up? Did you foll—" but her scowl melded into a sharpness. Her eyes went beyond Garrod, to over his shoulder where the rustling was dead quiet. "What the fuck is that?"
Her eyes stared, but her magic pulled her attention to another movement. She squinted her eyes, but could not make out it's shape.
Once she saw who it was, her shoulders sagged as she gave an exasperated sigh.
"It is good to see you again, cazadore."
"No it's not." Leo scoffed before arranging her face into a scowl. "After all that broken nib and splotch of ink, now you show up? Did you foll—" but her scowl melded into a sharpness. Her eyes went beyond Garrod, to over his shoulder where the rustling was dead quiet. "What the fuck is that?"
Her eyes stared, but her magic pulled her attention to another movement. She squinted her eyes, but could not make out it's shape.