09-10-2017, 07:49 PM
Tha-thump.
Everything was dark.
Tha-thump.
Everything hurt.
Tha-thump.
Where…?
A woman attempted to allow her eyes to flicker open, but promptly winced at the dim light of the surrounding world. She could feel the throbbing in her head pound painfully. The sound of her blood pumping was almost deafening.
She wanted to move.
What happened…?
Her fingertips twitched, and something brushed against it. The woman raised her pinkie just enough to touch something cool and almost… leathery. There was a quiet, weak keen from somewhere to her right.
Her thoughts once again blanked as the cold darkness of unconsciousness claimed her.
The woman’s eyes opened a sliver—just enough that the vague shapes that shifted in the dim light started to come into focus. She turned her head slowly. Just enough so that the larger shape that was curled around her started to take a more definite form.
It was a large, serpentine beast. A monster whose blue scales were scratched and dirtied by dust and dried blood. Its wing was laying strangely, mangled against the earth, with one of its finger-like appendages draped over her legs.
Its triangular head was right next to her own, its fanged maw open just slightly enough to allow its warm breath to flow in and out.
Its eyes were closed.
Yet the woman felt no compulsion to try and force her battered body into motion and flee even if she could. She slowly shifted her hand, her arm partially numb, to the creature’s muzzle and laid it there.
The beast’s eyes slid open, and fixed the woman with a slitted, reptilian gaze. The low keen started to rise in the wyvern’s throat.
Tha-thump.
She smiled faintly.
Tha-thump.
The wyvern’s injured wing shuddered, then shifted enough to drape over its rider completely.
The woman’s fingers dug into the soft earth as she braced the back of her arm against the ground to push herself into a sitting position. Her body resisted the motion, and there was a sharp intake of breath as the pain once again flared to life.
Symphora crooned softly upon sensing the movements from the woman beside her, though the woman barely acknowledged the noise between the pounding in her head and her swimming vision.
It was dark. There was only the moonlight that trickled down through the thick boughs of the evergreens, and reflected off of Symphora’s eyes so that two orbs of yellow shone brightly in the darkness.
The woman slowly, carefully, raised her hand to her forehead, and promptly felt a layer of thick, crusted dirt and blood smeared across it. She winced, and even the light touch caused stars to spin before her eyes.
Tha-thump.
She stopped for a moment as she started to carefully explore the damage on the rest of her body, her eyes fixed on the pockets of blackness visible far overhead.
Her clothing wasn’t soft. It wasn’t just… fabric. Bits and pieces were cold. Hard. Sharp. Remnants of gnarled, broken, and twisted…
Metal?
Was that what it was? Armor?
Tha-thump.
She started to push herself up again, and once more, the pain flared to life. Her mind, dazed and foggy, slowly started to put the pieces together as her fingertips traced the bent metal on her torso.
It was cutting into her flesh, sharp and unrelenting. Gnarled and bent.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Her fingers worked to find a loose piece that she could pry off, fumbling with leather straps and metal, and a segment fell to the ground beside her with a muffled clatter.
She took a deeper breath.
The woman cried out as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Symphora keened loudly, her bestial voice mingling with the other sound in the dark silence, and the frill on her neck stood erect as she surveyed the woman with concern.
She held out an arm, and almost instinctively, the wyvern wove her head beneath it to give the human a means of support as she attempted to ride the surge of adrenaline to her feet.
It was not an elegant process. She cried out again as the broken armor cut into her flesh, and her head throbbed with a renewed vigor.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
She was being supported by the wyvern more than standing. She staggered with every meager step as her vision swam and threatened to be once again claimed by black unconsciousness.
It was all she could to to keep nausea from taking hold as she followed the trail of Symphora’s neck and slumped heavily against the wyvern’s shoulder.
She could feel something warm trickle down the side of her face.
“Sym… we need to… help. Do you think you… can? Can you… understand?”
Exhaustion and desperation bled heavily into her voice as she met the wyvern’s gaze. Her own eyes drifted to the wounds that littered the beast’s scaled hide, and the strange way it was holding its wing.
“...you’re hurt too.”
Symphora lowered her body closer to the ground, and leaned into the woman so that the woman could uneasily slump herself over the base of the creature’s neck. Slowly, the wyvern lifted itself up, and there was another grunt of discomfort from her rider as the woman did her best to hang on to the serpentine neck.
Tha-thump.
Symphora took a few hobbling steps, her clumsy gait even more so as she attempted redistribute her weight off of her injured limb.
The woman’s weight had gone dead as she once more slipped into unconsciousness.
As the wyvern crawled through the dense forest in a direction seemingly chosen at random, a thick, leather-bound book slapped heavily against the woman’s thigh. For a moment, a message, elegantly inscribed on the first page, flashed into view.
Below it, in an equally elegant script, was another note.
Everything was dark.
Tha-thump.
Everything hurt.
Tha-thump.
Where…?
A woman attempted to allow her eyes to flicker open, but promptly winced at the dim light of the surrounding world. She could feel the throbbing in her head pound painfully. The sound of her blood pumping was almost deafening.
She wanted to move.
What happened…?
Her fingertips twitched, and something brushed against it. The woman raised her pinkie just enough to touch something cool and almost… leathery. There was a quiet, weak keen from somewhere to her right.
Her thoughts once again blanked as the cold darkness of unconsciousness claimed her.
Tha-thump.
Periodically I can hear the keening. It is a sound I didn’t know, and yet it seems familiar. It seems sad. It seems hurt.
I want to tell it everything is okay. Everything is fine.
There is no need to be sad.
Is there?
Tha-thump.
“Shhhh… it’s okay… girl…”
It hurts to talk. My head is pounding. I don’t want to open my eyes.
The keening stops. Something moves.
Is it a girl?
Tha-thump.
“It’s okay, Sym…”
Symphora.
Is that its name?
The name of the keening?
Something rests on my stomach. Carefully. It’s large. It hurts.
I gasp.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
The object retreats with another low keen.
Periodically I can hear the keening. It is a sound I didn’t know, and yet it seems familiar. It seems sad. It seems hurt.
I want to tell it everything is okay. Everything is fine.
There is no need to be sad.
Is there?
Tha-thump.
“Shhhh… it’s okay… girl…”
It hurts to talk. My head is pounding. I don’t want to open my eyes.
The keening stops. Something moves.
Is it a girl?
Tha-thump.
“It’s okay, Sym…”
Symphora.
Is that its name?
The name of the keening?
Something rests on my stomach. Carefully. It’s large. It hurts.
I gasp.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
The object retreats with another low keen.
The woman’s eyes opened a sliver—just enough that the vague shapes that shifted in the dim light started to come into focus. She turned her head slowly. Just enough so that the larger shape that was curled around her started to take a more definite form.
It was a large, serpentine beast. A monster whose blue scales were scratched and dirtied by dust and dried blood. Its wing was laying strangely, mangled against the earth, with one of its finger-like appendages draped over her legs.
Its triangular head was right next to her own, its fanged maw open just slightly enough to allow its warm breath to flow in and out.
Its eyes were closed.
Yet the woman felt no compulsion to try and force her battered body into motion and flee even if she could. She slowly shifted her hand, her arm partially numb, to the creature’s muzzle and laid it there.
The beast’s eyes slid open, and fixed the woman with a slitted, reptilian gaze. The low keen started to rise in the wyvern’s throat.
Tha-thump.
She smiled faintly.
Tha-thump.
The wyvern’s injured wing shuddered, then shifted enough to drape over its rider completely.
Tha-thump.
I need to move.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
I’m hurt.
Everything is… foggy. I know Symphora. Symphora is here. She is a friend.
I know Symphora.
I know…
Tha-thump.
What am I doing here?
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
What happened?
An accident?
An attack?
Why would I be attacked?
What did I do?
Who am I?
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
I can’t stay here.
I need to move.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
I’m hurt.
Everything is… foggy. I know Symphora. Symphora is here. She is a friend.
I know Symphora.
I know…
Tha-thump.
What am I doing here?
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
What happened?
An accident?
An attack?
Why would I be attacked?
What did I do?
Who am I?
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
I can’t stay here.
The woman’s fingers dug into the soft earth as she braced the back of her arm against the ground to push herself into a sitting position. Her body resisted the motion, and there was a sharp intake of breath as the pain once again flared to life.
Symphora crooned softly upon sensing the movements from the woman beside her, though the woman barely acknowledged the noise between the pounding in her head and her swimming vision.
It was dark. There was only the moonlight that trickled down through the thick boughs of the evergreens, and reflected off of Symphora’s eyes so that two orbs of yellow shone brightly in the darkness.
The woman slowly, carefully, raised her hand to her forehead, and promptly felt a layer of thick, crusted dirt and blood smeared across it. She winced, and even the light touch caused stars to spin before her eyes.
Tha-thump.
She stopped for a moment as she started to carefully explore the damage on the rest of her body, her eyes fixed on the pockets of blackness visible far overhead.
Her clothing wasn’t soft. It wasn’t just… fabric. Bits and pieces were cold. Hard. Sharp. Remnants of gnarled, broken, and twisted…
Metal?
Was that what it was? Armor?
Tha-thump.
She started to push herself up again, and once more, the pain flared to life. Her mind, dazed and foggy, slowly started to put the pieces together as her fingertips traced the bent metal on her torso.
It was cutting into her flesh, sharp and unrelenting. Gnarled and bent.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Her fingers worked to find a loose piece that she could pry off, fumbling with leather straps and metal, and a segment fell to the ground beside her with a muffled clatter.
She took a deeper breath.
I don’t know who I am.
It’s a dawning realization. For as much as I try to remember what happened, my mind provides nothing but white noise. I have no name. I just have Symphora.
Tha-thump.
I don’t know where I am.
In a forest. Which forest?
No one else is here.
Tha-thump.
I’m alive. I need help.
Tha-thump.
I won’t die here.
It’s a dawning realization. For as much as I try to remember what happened, my mind provides nothing but white noise. I have no name. I just have Symphora.
Tha-thump.
I don’t know where I am.
In a forest. Which forest?
No one else is here.
Tha-thump.
I’m alive. I need help.
Tha-thump.
I won’t die here.
The woman cried out as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Symphora keened loudly, her bestial voice mingling with the other sound in the dark silence, and the frill on her neck stood erect as she surveyed the woman with concern.
She held out an arm, and almost instinctively, the wyvern wove her head beneath it to give the human a means of support as she attempted to ride the surge of adrenaline to her feet.
It was not an elegant process. She cried out again as the broken armor cut into her flesh, and her head throbbed with a renewed vigor.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
She was being supported by the wyvern more than standing. She staggered with every meager step as her vision swam and threatened to be once again claimed by black unconsciousness.
It was all she could to to keep nausea from taking hold as she followed the trail of Symphora’s neck and slumped heavily against the wyvern’s shoulder.
She could feel something warm trickle down the side of her face.
“Sym… we need to… help. Do you think you… can? Can you… understand?”
Exhaustion and desperation bled heavily into her voice as she met the wyvern’s gaze. Her own eyes drifted to the wounds that littered the beast’s scaled hide, and the strange way it was holding its wing.
“...you’re hurt too.”
Symphora lowered her body closer to the ground, and leaned into the woman so that the woman could uneasily slump herself over the base of the creature’s neck. Slowly, the wyvern lifted itself up, and there was another grunt of discomfort from her rider as the woman did her best to hang on to the serpentine neck.
Tha-thump.
Symphora took a few hobbling steps, her clumsy gait even more so as she attempted redistribute her weight off of her injured limb.
The woman’s weight had gone dead as she once more slipped into unconsciousness.
As the wyvern crawled through the dense forest in a direction seemingly chosen at random, a thick, leather-bound book slapped heavily against the woman’s thigh. For a moment, a message, elegantly inscribed on the first page, flashed into view.
May the winds of fate ever guide you on your journey through life. All winds come from home, and to home all winds return.
Below it, in an equally elegant script, was another note.
To my Mistral, with all my love.
Hiraeth.
Hiraeth.