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Description
Swords

Ambrosius was at the training grounds, sparring. And losing - or so it seemed. Every time he landed a blow, Nemesis bounced back, hitting twice as hard. He could barely stand on his cloven hooves; bruises bloomed beneath his pale fur.

Though he was visibly injured, slowly being cornered, he attacked with a dogged stubborn determination. He didn't give up. When she finally fell, she was visibly surprised, a strange look crossing her face. His twisted antlers were at the dragon's throat, sharp as a sword.

"I'm a survivor," he huffed, his powerful shoulders heaving from exertion. "You're just lucky."

Castle

Deep in the evergreen forest, in her glass house, the walls slid forth like paper without her touch. Mosrael was alone but not lonely; she spoke with the spirits of the wind as she waited in the night. They had told her that the others were coming. Wayfarers, hunted, in need.

Her dark hair swung over her back as she drifted to the door, secure despite the impending presence of strangers. Her blue cloak billowed behind her silently. This house was her castle.

"Let me help you," she said, her pale features lighting up with a smile. "Come in, please!"

Knights

The alleyway was dark, a dead end. The city was littered with these, it seemed - to his convenience. Loki could almost laugh. Perfect!

Icarion pressed his back against the wall. "Where is she?" he asked, urgently, emploring his brother. "There's not much time!"

Loki smiled, an oddly gentle expression. "You'll find her soon." He could feel the sustaining magic slowly draining from his body; this lovesickness was eating him alive. "Trust me, Ari."

The taller boy nodded, relaxing slightly, his blue eyes wide. Then Loki drove the dagger straight into his heart.

"And they say chivalry's dead," he muttered.

Festival

Loud music blasted out of the club, full of strangers carelessly dancing away the night. The glow of the rave hung over his head.

Ari stumbled out onto empty streets; the diluted moonlight was easier on the eyes. He was only looking for one face, and she wasn't here. Every throb in the back of his skull reminded him of the night's failed festivities.

Someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned - to see a brunette grinning cheekily at him. "Come back, babe! Dance!"

He sighed and took her hand, formally, in the old way. "Only for tonight, Marina."

Description
Swords

Ambrosius was at the training grounds, sparring. And losing - or so it seemed. Every time he landed a blow, Nemesis bounced back, hitting twice as hard. He could barely stand on his cloven hooves; bruises bloomed beneath his pale fur.

Though he was visibly injured, slowly being cornered, he attacked with a dogged stubborn determination. He didn't give up. When she finally fell, she was visibly surprised, a strange look crossing her face. His twisted antlers were at the dragon's throat, sharp as a sword.

"I'm a survivor," he huffed, his powerful shoulders heaving from exertion. "You're just lucky."

Castle

Deep in the evergreen forest, in her glass house, the walls slid forth like paper without her touch. Mosrael was alone but not lonely; she spoke with the spirits of the wind as she waited in the night. They had told her that the others were coming. Wayfarers, hunted, in need.

Her dark hair swung over her back as she drifted to the door, secure despite the impending presence of strangers. Her blue cloak billowed behind her silently. This house was her castle.

"Let me help you," she said, her pale features lighting up with a smile. "Come in, please!"

Knights

The alleyway was dark, a dead end. The city was littered with these, it seemed - to his convenience. Loki could almost laugh. Perfect!

Icarion pressed his back against the wall. "Where is she?" he asked, urgently, emploring his brother. "There's not much time!"

Loki smiled, an oddly gentle expression. "You'll find her soon." He could feel the sustaining magic slowly draining from his body; this lovesickness was eating him alive. "Trust me, Ari."

The taller boy nodded, relaxing slightly, his blue eyes wide. Then Loki drove the dagger straight into his heart.

"And they say chivalry's dead," he muttered.

Festival

Loud music blasted out of the club, full of strangers carelessly dancing away the night. The glow of the rave hung over his head.

Ari stumbled out onto empty streets; the diluted moonlight was easier on the eyes. He was only looking for one face, and she wasn't here. Every throb in the back of his skull reminded him of the night's failed festivities.

Someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned - to see a brunette grinning cheekily at him. "Come back, babe! Dance!"

He sighed and took her hand, formally, in the old way. "Only for tonight, Marina."