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+8 TP for Magdalene

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The Beginning: Having reunited with her childhood friend Bat-Sheva before the war, Magdalene has found herself at an impasse, torn between the desire to protect her daughter from the Bachelors as she always has, and protecting the friend who was like a sister to her. With the battle over and the war only just beginning, Magdalene has kept to the forests surrounding the Bachelor herd as she wrestles with indecision. Meanwhile, Jones the Protector, suffering terrible injuries from the war, seeks Magdalene out. The mare does not know that they share the same blood, but Jones does, and their family ties are paramount to Jones' plan. I want you to join the Rangers, he tells her, and I will train you myself.

He has much to teach her, and very little time...

The sparring match was not going in Magdalene’s favor. She fought like a wildcat, angry and hissing, one part intimidation and the other raw instinct. There wasn’t any eloquence to it, just bestial fury. Jones was sure that the style, if it could be called such, had served her well against predators. But against a seasoned fighter like Q, the mare was falling painfully short. Q had a Ranger’s arsenal of tactics. He knew how to tuck into a foe with quick swipes of his teeth, how to strike them off balance with his hooves. He could tell when Magdalene was going to strike by the grimace she didn’t bother to hide, deftly dodging, not so much as a silver strand of his tail caught up in her teeth. He’d tag her as he went, nipping her shoulders or croup- not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to let her know that she’d be good and hurt if he did.

And it was infuriating her. Every time Q got a hit, her anger would grow. As the sun kissed the mountain range and turned their pelts various shades of gold, Magdalene became clumsier, letting her anger dictate her actions and make her more predictable. Jones could see that Q was getting frustrated himself, less and less willing to tag her. It was so easy as to be completely unfair.

“Stop.” Jones called, and they did, dust flurrying around their hooves. Magdalene was panting. Q was not. Indignation made the mare’s eyes unusually bright.

“Thank you.” The Protector told his comrade, dipping his head graciously. “I am sorry to have taken you away from your family for the evening. Please, go rest. I owe you for your help.”

Jones waited until Q was well out of earshot before he turned to his protege. Her pelt was damp with sweat, beading down her legs and plastering her short, scruffy mane to her throat. She was glaring at him, as though her exhaustion were entirely his fault.

Granted, it was, but she’d agreed to it.

“We have a lot of work to do if you’re to become a Ranger.” He told her. Magdalene was humble enough to stomp a hoof in an equine variant of a shrug, bobbing her head once in agreement. Jones regarded her favorably, but not too favorably, because her prospects were… well, they quite frankly made him want to beat his head into the nearest tree trunk.

Weeks. He had weeks, at most, to turn her into a formidable fighter.

Jones withheld a sigh. He would have to manage it. Somehow. If Magdalene could not fill his role, then Ziara…

No.

“Magdalene.” He said sharply. Gray eyes glanced up, skeptical and muzzle pursed, like she expected to be told to run a few miles around the field. Frankly, he would have prefered to meet her expectation than attempt what he was about to attempt. Motivational speeches were not the forte of a stallion who rarely socialized. But she needed it, he thought.

“There is a war plaguing Chevalin, and all across the islands, innocents are being pulled into the mayhem. Blood washes our fields red as lives are pointlessly lost in conflict. Are you going to watch from the sidelines? Could you live with yourself when the “what ifs” plague your every dream for the rest of your life?” He took a step forward, ears forward. Magdalene didn’t speak. “What are you doing to do, Magdalene? The ones you want to protect… your daughter, your friends. Are you willing to do everything in your power to enable yourself to guard their lives and that of others?” He settled her with a stare, golden eyes gleaming. The sun would have been less intense.

The appaloosa raised her head. Her nose was still scrunched, lips pursed. “You are being overdramatic.”

You goddamn spotted daughter of a--

“Answer the question.” He prompted, expression betraying nothing.

The appaloosa groaned and hung her head, too tired to bother with her posture. “Yes, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Jones supposed that was a good enough answer. “Then we’ll meet here again at dawn. Eat well beforehand, there won’t be another opportunity until midday.”

The only response was a grunt.
Words// 706

Description

+8 TP for Magdalene

Prev | Next

The Beginning: Having reunited with her childhood friend Bat-Sheva before the war, Magdalene has found herself at an impasse, torn between the desire to protect her daughter from the Bachelors as she always has, and protecting the friend who was like a sister to her. With the battle over and the war only just beginning, Magdalene has kept to the forests surrounding the Bachelor herd as she wrestles with indecision. Meanwhile, Jones the Protector, suffering terrible injuries from the war, seeks Magdalene out. The mare does not know that they share the same blood, but Jones does, and their family ties are paramount to Jones' plan. I want you to join the Rangers, he tells her, and I will train you myself.

He has much to teach her, and very little time...

The sparring match was not going in Magdalene’s favor. She fought like a wildcat, angry and hissing, one part intimidation and the other raw instinct. There wasn’t any eloquence to it, just bestial fury. Jones was sure that the style, if it could be called such, had served her well against predators. But against a seasoned fighter like Q, the mare was falling painfully short. Q had a Ranger’s arsenal of tactics. He knew how to tuck into a foe with quick swipes of his teeth, how to strike them off balance with his hooves. He could tell when Magdalene was going to strike by the grimace she didn’t bother to hide, deftly dodging, not so much as a silver strand of his tail caught up in her teeth. He’d tag her as he went, nipping her shoulders or croup- not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to let her know that she’d be good and hurt if he did.

And it was infuriating her. Every time Q got a hit, her anger would grow. As the sun kissed the mountain range and turned their pelts various shades of gold, Magdalene became clumsier, letting her anger dictate her actions and make her more predictable. Jones could see that Q was getting frustrated himself, less and less willing to tag her. It was so easy as to be completely unfair.

“Stop.” Jones called, and they did, dust flurrying around their hooves. Magdalene was panting. Q was not. Indignation made the mare’s eyes unusually bright.

“Thank you.” The Protector told his comrade, dipping his head graciously. “I am sorry to have taken you away from your family for the evening. Please, go rest. I owe you for your help.”

Jones waited until Q was well out of earshot before he turned to his protege. Her pelt was damp with sweat, beading down her legs and plastering her short, scruffy mane to her throat. She was glaring at him, as though her exhaustion were entirely his fault.

Granted, it was, but she’d agreed to it.

“We have a lot of work to do if you’re to become a Ranger.” He told her. Magdalene was humble enough to stomp a hoof in an equine variant of a shrug, bobbing her head once in agreement. Jones regarded her favorably, but not too favorably, because her prospects were… well, they quite frankly made him want to beat his head into the nearest tree trunk.

Weeks. He had weeks, at most, to turn her into a formidable fighter.

Jones withheld a sigh. He would have to manage it. Somehow. If Magdalene could not fill his role, then Ziara…

No.

“Magdalene.” He said sharply. Gray eyes glanced up, skeptical and muzzle pursed, like she expected to be told to run a few miles around the field. Frankly, he would have prefered to meet her expectation than attempt what he was about to attempt. Motivational speeches were not the forte of a stallion who rarely socialized. But she needed it, he thought.

“There is a war plaguing Chevalin, and all across the islands, innocents are being pulled into the mayhem. Blood washes our fields red as lives are pointlessly lost in conflict. Are you going to watch from the sidelines? Could you live with yourself when the “what ifs” plague your every dream for the rest of your life?” He took a step forward, ears forward. Magdalene didn’t speak. “What are you doing to do, Magdalene? The ones you want to protect… your daughter, your friends. Are you willing to do everything in your power to enable yourself to guard their lives and that of others?” He settled her with a stare, golden eyes gleaming. The sun would have been less intense.

The appaloosa raised her head. Her nose was still scrunched, lips pursed. “You are being overdramatic.”

You goddamn spotted daughter of a--

“Answer the question.” He prompted, expression betraying nothing.

The appaloosa groaned and hung her head, too tired to bother with her posture. “Yes, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Jones supposed that was a good enough answer. “Then we’ll meet here again at dawn. Eat well beforehand, there won’t be another opportunity until midday.”

The only response was a grunt.
Words// 706