05-05-2014, 12:43 PM
Elias raised a hand like he meant to stop her. The words cut. Who was he to dictate worth to her? The callousness undermined every sacrifice she had ever made to protect the lives around her, to keep the line that separated the darkness from reality, when those who walked in the light cast their eyes away from the aberrations in their own society. She glanced at him, his sombre gaze still set across the platform, and the fury burned in her chest. Chinks breached her armour, and light pierced through the frail spots, ready to face whatever the departing train left in its wake. A moment of weakness, but her desire to offer something overwhelmed her caution. She should have known better.
When the train passed and Connor was revealed still standing, a little of her tension drained. Not so the deep glare making an iron mask of her expression. Etched out by her keen senses, she could see the adrenaline rushed jubilance lighting his face, the gratified grin flushed by the strength of his actions. She understood the euphoria, but she didn't forgive the stupidity that had sent him hurtling off the edge of the platform. Hands still buried in her pockets, she stepped back from the edge. She'd wanted to know he was okay, and she could see now that he was. No shots had screamed through the station. There was no blood. The girl had clearly gotten on the train. "Think I might walk." She'd had no destination anyway, was just doing the ordinary rounds in an area well documented for trouble.
She had already begun to turn, content to use the excuse to extricate herself, so she didn't see Connor's expression change. But his words echoed loud. Tehya took it seriously on honed instinct, and sent her dark gaze up to the vaulted ceiling without question. The way her chin jerked, the immediate corded tautness in her stance, spoke of an unusual readiness in reaction to such an obscure warning. It took a second before her eyes focused. Mist leaked out from the darkness -- she had no idea how Connor had even seen it -- and her blood ran cool.
She knew what it was, but she had never seen one. She knew that gods had controlled these creatures once; that the chains had ripped free with the last death of the last god, and that the Ijiraq had faded into the obscurity of myth, even for the Atharim. A thousand year void had passed in which only the rarest journals mentioned them at all, the only reason she could even put a name to it, and that was an awful long time to stimulate evolution free of its one time masters. She did not quite know what she faced, and she did not know quite what it wanted -- or why it was here -- but she knew well what it had been.
She shouldered past Elias, pressed herself in front of him without hesitation or negotiation for her role as protector. Her eyes never took a blink from the descent of the mist, and she had no idea what Connor was doing -- other than to assume something idiotic, like charging back over the tracks. She had a gun at her hip, but it was as useless as a lump of lead in this situation. She had a knife, too, its blade tipped at the centre of the tattoo on her wrist, but neither weapon would do much good while the Ijiraq shifted form.
Tehya flared bright in warning, wondering if it would recognise the power that had once bound it; if that would be enough to ward it off. In the back of her mind flickered the filaments of spirit she had knotted into the rougarou's brain, and she did wonder - of course she wondered. But she would not jeapardise the civilians in her company for an experiment that might cost them all. It alighted some feet away, shimmering the outline of a man, ghosting in and out of vision. It was toying with them.
And then it occurred to her that a creature once enslaved to the power of gods might not simply be afraid of the chains. It might wish vengeance.
When the train passed and Connor was revealed still standing, a little of her tension drained. Not so the deep glare making an iron mask of her expression. Etched out by her keen senses, she could see the adrenaline rushed jubilance lighting his face, the gratified grin flushed by the strength of his actions. She understood the euphoria, but she didn't forgive the stupidity that had sent him hurtling off the edge of the platform. Hands still buried in her pockets, she stepped back from the edge. She'd wanted to know he was okay, and she could see now that he was. No shots had screamed through the station. There was no blood. The girl had clearly gotten on the train. "Think I might walk." She'd had no destination anyway, was just doing the ordinary rounds in an area well documented for trouble.
She had already begun to turn, content to use the excuse to extricate herself, so she didn't see Connor's expression change. But his words echoed loud. Tehya took it seriously on honed instinct, and sent her dark gaze up to the vaulted ceiling without question. The way her chin jerked, the immediate corded tautness in her stance, spoke of an unusual readiness in reaction to such an obscure warning. It took a second before her eyes focused. Mist leaked out from the darkness -- she had no idea how Connor had even seen it -- and her blood ran cool.
She knew what it was, but she had never seen one. She knew that gods had controlled these creatures once; that the chains had ripped free with the last death of the last god, and that the Ijiraq had faded into the obscurity of myth, even for the Atharim. A thousand year void had passed in which only the rarest journals mentioned them at all, the only reason she could even put a name to it, and that was an awful long time to stimulate evolution free of its one time masters. She did not quite know what she faced, and she did not know quite what it wanted -- or why it was here -- but she knew well what it had been.
She shouldered past Elias, pressed herself in front of him without hesitation or negotiation for her role as protector. Her eyes never took a blink from the descent of the mist, and she had no idea what Connor was doing -- other than to assume something idiotic, like charging back over the tracks. She had a gun at her hip, but it was as useless as a lump of lead in this situation. She had a knife, too, its blade tipped at the centre of the tattoo on her wrist, but neither weapon would do much good while the Ijiraq shifted form.
Tehya flared bright in warning, wondering if it would recognise the power that had once bound it; if that would be enough to ward it off. In the back of her mind flickered the filaments of spirit she had knotted into the rougarou's brain, and she did wonder - of course she wondered. But she would not jeapardise the civilians in her company for an experiment that might cost them all. It alighted some feet away, shimmering the outline of a man, ghosting in and out of vision. It was toying with them.
And then it occurred to her that a creature once enslaved to the power of gods might not simply be afraid of the chains. It might wish vengeance.