1st November. Paging @Dagwood but others welcome to help/harry! With a call to her Court, the stricken had parted from the vale that had become their perhaps-claim; an invitation to lurk with her, too; hunger strident within marrow-hollow cages where innards wended.
Now, she watches the aerial maneuvers of those gilded eagles who yet remained upon these cliffs. Disheveled in feather as she has become in fur; limned so much so with dawn's late sun that she must veil her eyes and turn from them, though there were scarce any sheep who themselves remained ... save for the worn, sunken carcasses wealded into loam and lichens far, far below. No, there were none besides left.
None, save for those they had perished beneath; Andraste watches, and wonders if it is worth further flaying of her figure—
( maddened, she has been branded )
—and finds that if it is for her Court, she cannot care.
The younger of her followers had fallen alongside her step; blushed nose quivering at the scent of another of her ashen ones; and though the stricken's gaze remained , she mused listlessly to he with her: "How many would you say we might down?" Crazed, she must be crazed; had the earthshatter not robbed them of the sinew and strength within each, perhaps their chances would be more sure; perhaps she might not even turn to these far-seeing fliers at all—
—but Andraste hungered, and now meant to hunt, and the words were the only barricade to the slavering at scarred chops. ... As masters of the heavens (and of wool, perhaps) why would they ever look above their own feathered-brains?
Still ... that was just a theory.
All the same, halfsight found the jadeglim of Dagwood's; wondering if he might like to test such with her.
Moving this along with messy post, @Agana jump on in whenever <3 Only her?
The sybil could not help the specter of a simper that pranced faint at the corner of shorn lips; looked to Dagwood with a diverted countenance.
"I was wishing that you would be deadweight, I will admit," if only to help drag these feathered fiends from their realms. However ...
"distraction, though? ... Mm. Perhaps." If he could, by some means, harry them her way while their sights lie upon him—
—even to wonder at such, she was not sure. They could never be sure, unless they put thought into action.
Halfsight leapt to the ashen tenderfoot;
and with scarce a cant of skull, wished him care, and advised him to begin.
In the meantime, the stricken flurried, low, sweeping, from her original post to coil beneath one of the many shelved outcroppings from the stone; eyes now upon whomever the youngster deemed favorable to set them upon.
vroom vroom gotta go fast!!1
Oh—!
As Dagwood indeed fell upon the remnants (not quite?) of a once-nesting home, the silver stilled, scented, and saw a great buffetting overwhelm over this particular portion of the natural eyrie;
and no sooner had this fiend screamed its fury had the sybil fleet-fled from her position— vaulting o'er crag, swift, prays godlessly that she must be swift and she
bounds—!
—a piercing landing betwixt those straining shoulders, those daunting, dreadful wings—
slavering through feathers; the faltering beneath her fangs as she savaged with all the famished might that remained within her—
—and with the boy's propositioned deadweight, brought it to stone and loam, and his monarch near surrendered a rare smile.
... But they were far from safe; and their first oddity of quarry had yet to be delivered its killing hold;
farther from their haven, too;
all this evident as a shadow befell the pair and malady lacerated the rawboned segments along pale hips—
—and Andraste was wrenched from the male's presence, frothing at her jowls as she sought to snap at yet another adversary; who now straggled to heave her into the very same skies that have once sundered her.
light pp perm. given for daggo boi <3
Skies below her; wheeling;
Icarus screams from the breast of bird and so Andraste shrieks fathomless fury within her own, floral'd tongue— tries to!— and then the merle male is there, snapping for her freedom and she reaches towards him, kicking, thrashing;
and though she meets the earth oncd more with a sharp
THUD of bone unsplintered, the stricken wasted no time at all, now;
rushing forth as Dagwood surged past her; twinned as they each found with their fangs the death knell within avian anatomys; he, in the throat; she, in the skull. Nevermind feathers within throat, nor the turmoil that now flared in pale dimpling of spine;
all faded, diminished now beneath this shared
victory; wrangles
the first of their find almost jovially between shorn jaws.
Their Court would not starve.
For a few hours, at least.