02-13-2024, 10:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-13-2024, 10:59 PM by Radley. Edited 1 time in total.)
Wings flapped viciously, a snarl caught in his throat, tail whipping and legs kicking out for purchase. Holy hands held him still, his body already weakened and exhausted - he had no chance of escape.
”An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart.”
A blade pressed to his throat, burning with angel’s fire and singing his skin. Someone was snarling - it might’ve been himself. He wouldn’t die a coward, he wouldn’t die afraid.
But he was. He was so scared.
He wanted his father. He wanted his friend. He wanted-
The blade slashed deep into his throat.
Radley woke choking on his own blood. He heaved and hacked, the black viscera climbing up his throat and splattering onto the stone below.
Gods above, he hurt. His throat blazed with leftover holy fire, his body sore and aching with the injuries inflicted by his own friend and their ilk. If not for them, he’d have been able to fight back against the goddess that had slaughtered him.
Rad huffed out a humorless laugh. It was what he got for trusting in angels.
He was a fool.
The demon prince lay on his side for a while, his fur drying out in the waning sunlight. It was a comfortable temperature, chilling a bit as the sun slowly sank.
Only after the sky was streaked in ribbons of red did Rad sit up, and then slowly rose to his feet. All four of them, which was… peculiar. He’d recalled having just the two before. Perhaps he’d reverted to some sort of hellhound form.
Glancing about, the prince took in his surroundings. Rocky terrain, an ocean lapping at the shore. It wasn’t like anywhere he had been used to, and there was no way he’d survived a goddess’ blade, so then what was this place? An afterlife of sorts?
For a moment - just a moment - rage ignited in Radley’s chest, indignant and righteous, before the boy snuffed it out.
It would do no one any good to be angry about it now. That could be saved for later, when it was convenient. Not now, when he’s just woken up on a rocky little island, injured and in a brand new form.
His throat ached, but was not actively pouring blood, so he considered it a small victory.
This would be fine, he decided, taking a deep breath and shaking off the last of the stress and stiffness in his bones.
He’d make sure it was fine.
the staff team luvs u