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- - Modern/Magical/High Fantasy
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The innuendo went over the huntress' head as she stumbled and tossed the soldier an odd look over her shoulder. He turning soft or something? She didn't have time to dwell on it though, the wagon they were being hurried towards caught her attention and had her noes wrinkling in disgust. Being subjected to and even handling dead animal bodies on a daily basis, the wagon contents didn't bother her as much as it did some of the women, but that smell. She buried her noes in her shoulder when she reached out to grab a piece of meat in an attempt to block out the wretched stench but nothing could prepare her for the feeling of rotting, bloody flesh squishing under her grasp. Revulsion nearly overcame her right then and there.
It was another harsh shove followed by a taunt that distracted her enough from the task at hand to actually get going toward their destination, which she had failed to notice until then. The slaughter house? Her sleep deprived mind took its sweet time piecing together what the soldiers wanted from them and it wasn't until they were at the entrance did she realize they were expected to feed the dragon.
Adrenaline snapped her out it and her mind began racing with thoughts once more. If I'm going to make my move, I need to do it now. Amara quickly analyzed the situation. A man, Eimund she guessed, held the dragon by its snout while a creepy robey bastard mumbled weirdly over the chains that bound the beast. At hand was a... fire mage? But he didn't look native. This is wrong. Anger crept up on her and her grip on the raw meat tightened with a wet squalsh. Blood stained the fur lining her bracers but her attention was on the great beast. I need to get to it. Very few people were aware of Amara's second advent and even less knew it's full extent and with good reason. The last time she activated it she was very nearly overwhelmed to the point of suffering permanent damage. But what choice do I have now?
The women were ordered to pile the meat just out of the way of the transpiring events and as Amara neared the pile, she felt time slipping through her fingers. Come on. Come on! Think! How the hell am I going to get from point A to point B? Diversion? She could chuck the meat at a nearby soldier and make a mad dive for the dragon, hopefully startling it enough to throw Eimund off and give her an opening to make her move. But I'd need time to get what I need. Blinding the mage could also be an option. Maybe causing him to hit Eimund with his flashy fire could give her the space she needed. That, or it'd be a good way to end up a pin cushion. I need to get somewhere they can't reach. She bit her lip at the risky thought. Five steps, four steps, three...
She cursed her own hesitance.
...Hell, I bet there's people out there who would rather lose their heads and more who would die to get their hands on the opportunity that we have!
So stop being a hypocrite and do something!
"Oi! Move it already!" Amara didn't fight upon being shoved once more. Instead, she dropped the meat and used the momentum to propel herself forward into a dive, rolling out of the way. The alerted guards gave her mere seconds to react and she didn't waste them, lurching at the dragon as fast as her adrenaline driven legs could carry her and sliding under the great beast.
"Advent," she whispered - a quirk that had followed her into adolescence - as she placed her hands on the dragon's underbelly. All at once emotions rushed her and she let out a surprise gasp. The world blurred, sights and sounds and smells becoming distinguishable.
Anger, rage, annoyance, wrath, vengeance, fear, pain sorrow, panic, hysteria...
And then there were emotions she couldn't place. Those that would only be hindered by words and deluded by color. She latched on to them, focused, let them sweep her up, carry her way. She was drifting one minute, lashed about the next, before ebbing away. And there it was. Like the rest, she couldn't place a name on the emotion, but it felt off. It didn't belong. It held a synthetic quality.
And she snatched it.
It was another harsh shove followed by a taunt that distracted her enough from the task at hand to actually get going toward their destination, which she had failed to notice until then. The slaughter house? Her sleep deprived mind took its sweet time piecing together what the soldiers wanted from them and it wasn't until they were at the entrance did she realize they were expected to feed the dragon.
Adrenaline snapped her out it and her mind began racing with thoughts once more. If I'm going to make my move, I need to do it now. Amara quickly analyzed the situation. A man, Eimund she guessed, held the dragon by its snout while a creepy robey bastard mumbled weirdly over the chains that bound the beast. At hand was a... fire mage? But he didn't look native. This is wrong. Anger crept up on her and her grip on the raw meat tightened with a wet squalsh. Blood stained the fur lining her bracers but her attention was on the great beast. I need to get to it. Very few people were aware of Amara's second advent and even less knew it's full extent and with good reason. The last time she activated it she was very nearly overwhelmed to the point of suffering permanent damage. But what choice do I have now?
The women were ordered to pile the meat just out of the way of the transpiring events and as Amara neared the pile, she felt time slipping through her fingers. Come on. Come on! Think! How the hell am I going to get from point A to point B? Diversion? She could chuck the meat at a nearby soldier and make a mad dive for the dragon, hopefully startling it enough to throw Eimund off and give her an opening to make her move. But I'd need time to get what I need. Blinding the mage could also be an option. Maybe causing him to hit Eimund with his flashy fire could give her the space she needed. That, or it'd be a good way to end up a pin cushion. I need to get somewhere they can't reach. She bit her lip at the risky thought. Five steps, four steps, three...
She cursed her own hesitance.
...Hell, I bet there's people out there who would rather lose their heads and more who would die to get their hands on the opportunity that we have!
So stop being a hypocrite and do something!
"Oi! Move it already!" Amara didn't fight upon being shoved once more. Instead, she dropped the meat and used the momentum to propel herself forward into a dive, rolling out of the way. The alerted guards gave her mere seconds to react and she didn't waste them, lurching at the dragon as fast as her adrenaline driven legs could carry her and sliding under the great beast.
"Advent," she whispered - a quirk that had followed her into adolescence - as she placed her hands on the dragon's underbelly. All at once emotions rushed her and she let out a surprise gasp. The world blurred, sights and sounds and smells becoming distinguishable.
Anger, rage, annoyance, wrath, vengeance, fear, pain sorrow, panic, hysteria...
And then there were emotions she couldn't place. Those that would only be hindered by words and deluded by color. She latched on to them, focused, let them sweep her up, carry her way. She was drifting one minute, lashed about the next, before ebbing away. And there it was. Like the rest, she couldn't place a name on the emotion, but it felt off. It didn't belong. It held a synthetic quality.
And she snatched it.
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