Sunspire Mountains facedown in the carpet I feel safe

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Death (sorry Simran it’s for a good cause), gore

Have you ever heard the story of David and Goliath?

See, Goliath could not be killed by any of the soliders he was against. David was young, scrawny, and only had a slingshot. Goliath had devistated the army, thus when he saw little David, he laughed. ‘Who is this scrawny child set against me, I am Goliath! You cannot kill me!’

Perhaps not. David knew what he was doing, but to another, his plan looked as though it would kill him. Up until the moment he loaded a stone into his slingshot, and fired. And Goliath, his eyes open wide in shock, fell like a great mountain. David became a hero to his people, and Goliath never rose again.

Our takeaway from this story can be defined in many ways, but perhaps the most relevant is to not underestimate the small and meek. Which brings us

Back

Here

Steam wafting off entrails that had once been warm, as Goliath took their last shuddering breaths, muttering prayers between bloody wheezes. And the shadow standing above, outlined in the rise of the sun upon a world that was new to her. Underneath one of her paws, struggling wildly, a bird that had already managed to tear bloody streaks across her shoulders and through one of her ears. She could feel the torn edges of the soft skin, but she did not seem to mind as much as she always thought she would. Blood smeared across her muzzle, staining onto her chest.

Stop your struggle. Your master is dead. Ice blue went back to the figure to find it still and silent. The bird did not stop, until a quick snap of teeth made it so. She did not want to kill more, not today, but she knew that if she had to, she would.

Now, you will follow me. The bird seemed to think about this, before begrudgingly clicking it’s beak a few times. Nephele raised her paw to allow it to rise, face cold and impassive.

David looked out over Goliath, no slingshot, but plenty of rocks. But they were unneeded. Nephele licked a bit of the blood from her muzzle, just from her nose, trying to drag in a breath that wasn’t spiced by iron. It was perhaps bad luck she had run into something that appeared to be a former Saint, but they were dead now. It didn’t matter.

Slowly, she directed the bird up onto her shoulder with a prod of her bloody nose, and turned to go seek medical attention, leaving the body of Goliath where it lay.