Poet has known gods and death, has prayed under weeping sky, wept with them, has danced, has worn blood on her paws. The air is electric between the two wolves, Venninne's obvious fear striking chill into her heart. What is this divine retribution for her sins? Is it so mighty as to rend apart the entire Valley? There is still time to flee, but the ex-priestess is rooted to the spot as the metal beast opens its jaws and alien-strange creatures swarm forward.
She is not near enough to Venninne to stop the sudden strike. "No," she gasps, and only then she comes unstuck, her delicate steps quick. If she can make it to Venninne's side, she can stop whatever reckoning is to befall them; she wants to cry out not her, not her, she's done nothing, it's me that you want. Her approach startles the aliens, who gesture with their limbs and make sounds she doesn't understand, and then:
As quick as the asp's bite comes the second shot, striking the sinner. She will not interfere with their machinations; she is only mortal, after all.
Closer the pair crawled, Poet slow and hazy in movement until she's able to reach out and gingerly press her nose against Venninne's shoulder, seeking some physical assurance that they're both really here, that this isn't a dream or vision.
But the metal bird! Surely that was a vision, some shared prophecy for both of them, though she cannot make heads or tails of what it could be. Desperately she wishes Phocion were near. She no longer has a connection to the gods, but he might, he might.
Phocion does not materialize despite her thoughts. Instead she croaks, "Venninne," realising only after that she still doesn't know if that's her name or just one Sif granted her. She breathes through her teeth. "Can you stand..?" She tries, pulling back slightly to grant the woman the space to rise if she's able. They need to get back into the safety of the Valley at the least... call for Xan, call for Blondine. Pray the bird does not return more bloodthirsty.
holy carp! i'm sorry for the wait on this one, omg! if you wanna close after this next post, you can
She was dizzy, but she stood at Poet's ushering. She ducked next to the woman, running alongside her, woozy and scared. Annasiak whined, and on her wobbly legs she tried to usher Poet deeper into the valley. To safety.