[Deaths] on a battlefield
Title: reinforcements
'Verse/characters: Deaths; Julian] De'Ath
Prompt: 70A "further to fly"
Word Count: 579
Notes: continued aftermath of escalation and gambit, response.
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I am too tired for this, she thought, looking down at the fallen Council member as she let the scythe slide through her hands to rest on the ground, shifted the weapon to her left hand alone, the blade curving off away from her and still glowing faintly from the fighting. Leaning some of her weight on the upright staff, she sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose with her other hand.
If he'd used the sword strapped to his side lately, she'd eat her own boots. If he'd used it in a proper fight she'd eat her damn scythe, and nevermind that it was a gift from her father.
She knelt, angling the scythe to come down with her, touched her fingers to the bloody spot on the side of his head, hooked her nails in and pulled, drawing a long thread out and up to the tip of her scythe's blade, where it stuck. Stood up, holding her weapon away from her own head, spun the staff a couple of times between her hands, thread wrapping around the blade.
When it was glowing brighter, like a blown coal, she flicked the thread free with her nails. The man'd stay down, now, and she had some serious planning to do.
The Horseman's Son was kneeling next to her uncle, his sword sheathed for the moment. The Morrigan she could barely see through the mass of screaming crows and the poor sods she was chasing farther from Azrael and--she wouldn't call it 'the body'. The other two De'Aths on the field, then.
A crow swooped past her head, and she automatically grabbed at it, earning for the reflex a yelling, flapping scratching pecking monster that shat on her hand as she frowned at it, then raised it higher, still out of range of her eyes. "I need a favour, Lady," she told the crow, which certainly couldn't understand her, and then let go.
The crow flapped off, still yelling, and she shook her head at herself. It'd work or it wouldn't, and in the meantime she needed to get herself and her prize the Hell out of here before the reserves tried to come back.
Wiping her hand off on his clothes as she stripped him of his belt--the sword was nice, she clipped it next to her own for safekeeping--she strapped his ankles together with his own belt to use as a towrope. She somehow had very few reservations about letting his head bang on a few stones in the field.
A raven--the first one she'd seen in the area--landed on the commander's chest as she dragged him clear of the area set aside for their command staff, trying to keep him moving so she wasn't constantly stopping and starting and wasting yet more damn energy doing it.
She paused, eyed the raven, which tilted its beak to one side and eyed her back fearlessly.
I cannot believe I'm doing this. "You'd be the emissary?"
The raven turned sideways and shat on the other side of the commander's jacket, still watching her.
"Right then. I need cover for a retreat, and frankly I don't much care how it comes, aside from all of us--including my uncle and your avatar--get out of here in one piece."
The raven crouched now on the commander's chest, feet spread wide, and croaked so loudly she nearly took a step back.
Thunder rolled.
When she looked back down from the sky, the raven had flapped off.
'Verse/characters: Deaths; Julian] De'Ath
Prompt: 70A "further to fly"
Word Count: 579
Notes: continued aftermath of escalation and gambit, response.
---------
I am too tired for this, she thought, looking down at the fallen Council member as she let the scythe slide through her hands to rest on the ground, shifted the weapon to her left hand alone, the blade curving off away from her and still glowing faintly from the fighting. Leaning some of her weight on the upright staff, she sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose with her other hand.
If he'd used the sword strapped to his side lately, she'd eat her own boots. If he'd used it in a proper fight she'd eat her damn scythe, and nevermind that it was a gift from her father.
She knelt, angling the scythe to come down with her, touched her fingers to the bloody spot on the side of his head, hooked her nails in and pulled, drawing a long thread out and up to the tip of her scythe's blade, where it stuck. Stood up, holding her weapon away from her own head, spun the staff a couple of times between her hands, thread wrapping around the blade.
When it was glowing brighter, like a blown coal, she flicked the thread free with her nails. The man'd stay down, now, and she had some serious planning to do.
The Horseman's Son was kneeling next to her uncle, his sword sheathed for the moment. The Morrigan she could barely see through the mass of screaming crows and the poor sods she was chasing farther from Azrael and--she wouldn't call it 'the body'. The other two De'Aths on the field, then.
A crow swooped past her head, and she automatically grabbed at it, earning for the reflex a yelling, flapping scratching pecking monster that shat on her hand as she frowned at it, then raised it higher, still out of range of her eyes. "I need a favour, Lady," she told the crow, which certainly couldn't understand her, and then let go.
The crow flapped off, still yelling, and she shook her head at herself. It'd work or it wouldn't, and in the meantime she needed to get herself and her prize the Hell out of here before the reserves tried to come back.
Wiping her hand off on his clothes as she stripped him of his belt--the sword was nice, she clipped it next to her own for safekeeping--she strapped his ankles together with his own belt to use as a towrope. She somehow had very few reservations about letting his head bang on a few stones in the field.
A raven--the first one she'd seen in the area--landed on the commander's chest as she dragged him clear of the area set aside for their command staff, trying to keep him moving so she wasn't constantly stopping and starting and wasting yet more damn energy doing it.
She paused, eyed the raven, which tilted its beak to one side and eyed her back fearlessly.
I cannot believe I'm doing this. "You'd be the emissary?"
The raven turned sideways and shat on the other side of the commander's jacket, still watching her.
"Right then. I need cover for a retreat, and frankly I don't much care how it comes, aside from all of us--including my uncle and your avatar--get out of here in one piece."
The raven crouched now on the commander's chest, feet spread wide, and croaked so loudly she nearly took a step back.
Thunder rolled.
When she looked back down from the sky, the raven had flapped off.