[ It's so quiet, suddenly. Even the flames that seemed to be on the verge of swallowing the solarium seem fit to sputter out, dying down under the heavy weight of the silence that settles.
Blink. Like coming awake from one of those fever bed dreams, Bryn feels herself swimming to the surface. The physicality of the last few seconds – pain, blood, yielding flesh and heat and more blood, more blood – play out in her mind again but she can't – or refuses – to reconcile them with what she can see in front of her.
A fat droplet of blood rolls down her cheek and plips from her chin.
Somnus's blood.
Somnus's–
Something ruptures deep inside her head. Her heart. This high up the tower and so far away from the others, there's nobody around to hear the scream that erupts from her. Nobody around to hear when the scream turns into a choked sob, or when the next inhalation comes out in a long howl of dragonsong.
Bryn shuts her eyes. She didn't want this. She didn't want any of this, not even for a moment. The Pact had never been willingly made, knowingly made and if this is the price she has to pay for that foolishness, then she'll surrender. She can't fight this anymore. She can't.
Bryn slumps over, face buried in her bloodied hands and chokes out one last babble of dragonsong before falling silent at last.
Breath in.
Breathe out.
Wagner lifts its face from its hands and slowly, easily rises to its feet. The first few steps are tottering and uncertain but all too soon, the body cooperates. Each one becomes easier.
It lifts its face again and sniffs at the air once or twice. Eyes are unreliable, but from a distance away, it can pick up the scent of a dying man being dragged fruitlessly away. With the king taken care of, there's nothing to stop it from finishing the rest of its job.
Violet flames sputter and die as Wagner sets out to track what's left of its prey. ]
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Blink. Like coming awake from one of those fever bed dreams, Bryn feels herself swimming to the surface. The physicality of the last few seconds – pain, blood, yielding flesh and heat and more blood, more blood – play out in her mind again but she can't – or refuses – to reconcile them with what she can see in front of her.
A fat droplet of blood rolls down her cheek and plips from her chin.
Somnus's blood.
Somnus's–
Something ruptures deep inside her head. Her heart. This high up the tower and so far away from the others, there's nobody around to hear the scream that erupts from her. Nobody around to hear when the scream turns into a choked sob, or when the next inhalation comes out in a long howl of dragonsong.
Bryn shuts her eyes. She didn't want this. She didn't want any of this, not even for a moment. The Pact had never been willingly made, knowingly made and if this is the price she has to pay for that foolishness, then she'll surrender. She can't fight this anymore. She can't.
Bryn slumps over, face buried in her bloodied hands and chokes out one last babble of dragonsong before falling silent at last.
Breath in.
Breathe out.
Wagner lifts its face from its hands and slowly, easily rises to its feet. The first few steps are tottering and uncertain but all too soon, the body cooperates. Each one becomes easier.
It lifts its face again and sniffs at the air once or twice. Eyes are unreliable, but from a distance away, it can pick up the scent of a dying man being dragged fruitlessly away. With the king taken care of, there's nothing to stop it from finishing the rest of its job.
Violet flames sputter and die as Wagner sets out to track what's left of its prey. ]