Post by mandafloon on Nov 4, 2011 6:38:30 GMT -5
Between the little fight with Shark and continuing to give a quiet play by play of the hatching to Tin (how things usually went, if this or that was normal, and just generally talking about candidate things) under his breath, Meltel had unfortunately only been paying half a mind to Grenth. Enpiceth seemed to have her under control, after all. Caelen was right. They'd become complacent. It wasn't until he heard the change in timbre of Grenth's roars, and the sudden rolling cough that sounded wet with fluids from strained and torn lungs that had been pushed too far too many times of late, that he realized that something very, very bad was about to happen.
In horror he looked on. Dragons never fought. Never, not even if their human was in danger. They would protect them, but not kill each other...but that's what Grenth did. It was sickening, and he could barely watch. Enpiceth would rein her in again, wouldn't he? No more death would visit the sands, right? He hadn't even seen the ox egg shaking, nor did he notice the red being poured prematurely onto the sands. The ox egg went flying, but his eyes were transfixed up, up, up. On that great head that should long ago have been put to rest. Even as it clamped down on the throat of the weyrleader's dragon, he felt himself shaking. "No..."
Enpiceth was dead. And Grenth should long ago have been. A gold would stay to see her clutch through, but these long sevendays had just been too long a wait. Her mind was gone. He could see it as she turned her mad eyes towards the candidates.
Unthinking, he put a hand on Tin's shoulder, pushing him back, back behind him, or just away. "Tin, run. Move!" He himself stepped back, but not enough, and too late. The next thing he knew he was airborn. He was flying.
There was no pain, just terror. Until the gold's grip came crushing down on him. He felt like his body was exploding. Pierced with red-hot blades. Her claws had curled around him, piercing in through the left side of his torso. One slid in just under his collar bone, passing over the top of his left lung and slicing trough part of the subclavian artery. The second, third, and fourth claws entered lower, and had he not already been a rictus of pain, he would have cried out. Almost as if from a distance through the haze of pain he felt a muted pop inside his chest. Later inspection would reveal his left lung had been punctured not once, but twice. Once from the queen's claw, and again as her crushing grip snapped ribs, driving one into the already torn sac.
And then he was flying again. Crashing down. His right arm crumpled beneath him, and then sprawled out, bent in a way it definitely should not be bending in, bone shattered. He lay on the sands, unfortunately still on the edges of consciousness. It was so hard to breathe. It hurt so bad. A pool of blood was swiftly forming around him, staining the sands pink. He took a breath and felt like he would surely die. Had anyone been near enough, and the air not rent with screams of pain, of terror, they would have heard an odd bubbling sound as his opened lung tried to inflate, and failed.
He would find out only later, if he lived, how lucky he was that Grenth's other two claws had passed in and out of his body without damaging and of his other organs.
Lying there with his heart pounding in his ears, he was helpless but to watch the continued slaughter. A girl, and then the gold tensed, pitching forward. He couldn't see Caelen from where he was, but he could see many of the candidates had escaped. That...That was good. He could see them through the field of eggs. None broken from where he lay. Good...so good... The rampage was done...Grenth...could...rest...
He felt himself slipping towards a cold dark place, and he forced a strangled gasp from his broken body. He could see the blood on the sands. His blood. So bright, so red. Red...It was then that he saw the hatchling, through lidded eyes and failing sight. A gash marred its hide, green ichor flowing free. Poor baby...
Poor thing... It's safe now, though...
I wish...
In horror he looked on. Dragons never fought. Never, not even if their human was in danger. They would protect them, but not kill each other...but that's what Grenth did. It was sickening, and he could barely watch. Enpiceth would rein her in again, wouldn't he? No more death would visit the sands, right? He hadn't even seen the ox egg shaking, nor did he notice the red being poured prematurely onto the sands. The ox egg went flying, but his eyes were transfixed up, up, up. On that great head that should long ago have been put to rest. Even as it clamped down on the throat of the weyrleader's dragon, he felt himself shaking. "No..."
Enpiceth was dead. And Grenth should long ago have been. A gold would stay to see her clutch through, but these long sevendays had just been too long a wait. Her mind was gone. He could see it as she turned her mad eyes towards the candidates.
Unthinking, he put a hand on Tin's shoulder, pushing him back, back behind him, or just away. "Tin, run. Move!" He himself stepped back, but not enough, and too late. The next thing he knew he was airborn. He was flying.
There was no pain, just terror. Until the gold's grip came crushing down on him. He felt like his body was exploding. Pierced with red-hot blades. Her claws had curled around him, piercing in through the left side of his torso. One slid in just under his collar bone, passing over the top of his left lung and slicing trough part of the subclavian artery. The second, third, and fourth claws entered lower, and had he not already been a rictus of pain, he would have cried out. Almost as if from a distance through the haze of pain he felt a muted pop inside his chest. Later inspection would reveal his left lung had been punctured not once, but twice. Once from the queen's claw, and again as her crushing grip snapped ribs, driving one into the already torn sac.
And then he was flying again. Crashing down. His right arm crumpled beneath him, and then sprawled out, bent in a way it definitely should not be bending in, bone shattered. He lay on the sands, unfortunately still on the edges of consciousness. It was so hard to breathe. It hurt so bad. A pool of blood was swiftly forming around him, staining the sands pink. He took a breath and felt like he would surely die. Had anyone been near enough, and the air not rent with screams of pain, of terror, they would have heard an odd bubbling sound as his opened lung tried to inflate, and failed.
He would find out only later, if he lived, how lucky he was that Grenth's other two claws had passed in and out of his body without damaging and of his other organs.
Lying there with his heart pounding in his ears, he was helpless but to watch the continued slaughter. A girl, and then the gold tensed, pitching forward. He couldn't see Caelen from where he was, but he could see many of the candidates had escaped. That...That was good. He could see them through the field of eggs. None broken from where he lay. Good...so good... The rampage was done...Grenth...could...rest...
He felt himself slipping towards a cold dark place, and he forced a strangled gasp from his broken body. He could see the blood on the sands. His blood. So bright, so red. Red...It was then that he saw the hatchling, through lidded eyes and failing sight. A gash marred its hide, green ichor flowing free. Poor baby...
Poor thing... It's safe now, though...
I wish...
I wish I...
...I wish I'd get to see...if you made it...