Pursuit - Training
These last few days have been difficult, the duo having to flee tirelessly across the vast deserts to avoid their sudden hunter, a gargantuan Tyrian that’s been haunting their every movement, targeting Behemoth with unrestrained ferocity, it’s been taking everything in their power to avoid those wicked teeth.
Elysium isn’t sure why this is happening, any attempt to communicate with this stranger has been met with an eerie silence, those piercing, yet lifeless white eyes simply staring right through them, a stare that made their fur stand on-end.
So far, the night has been quiet, but not unnaturally so. Critters in the night still sing, an ambience that would disappear entirely at the appearance of their pursuer. So to hear them at all? Elysium is breathing a soft sigh of relief as he rests amongst the sand, the moon serving as their only night, neither wanting to risk sparking a fire when peace and safety is not yet a guarantee.
“Are you doing okay?” Elysium asks his daughter, his fiery eyes glancing over to the female that sits hunched over nearby, her tattered cloak covering much of her body.
“...I suppose,” comes a quiet reply.
Elysium’s eyes soften sympathetically. That Tyrian has been going after her primarily in their encounters, and while he’s done his best to patch up the injuries she’s sustained… he knows her body aches.
His brows furrow, “we’ll hopefully be reaching a city by tomorrow afternoon… I doubt we’ll be attacked again once we’re there,” there’d be too many people, and the architecture itself would make it difficult for such a massive Tyrian to navigate. “...Medical care, too. Are the bandages holding up alright?”
Behemoth grits her teeth at his continued attempt at conversation, the frustration that’s been building within her these last few days threatening to come to the surface. Her ears are pinned against the back of her head as she stubbornly avoids looking at him, pale eyes staring at nothing in particular off in the distance.
“Moth, dear-”
“Stop,” Behemoth hisses out tightly, “I’m not okay. How could I be!?” She finally snaps, her furious glare turning to her father, “to be suddenly hunted… no doubt that that bastard knows of my curse,” she pulls her cloak more tightly around herself, “I don’t know why, I don’t know how… but it’s fucking terrifying, being treated like mere game.” Each encounter felt like she was being toyed with, tested, and for what? For what!?
Elysium frowns at her outburst, he opens his mouth, pauses… and then shuts it with a sigh as he shakes his head, it’s impossible for him to offer the right type of comfort, not when he’s the one who could be considered “normal.” He could never fully understand the difficulty and anxiety of living with such a curse. While he’d like to say that he’d happily take on her curse for her… the selfish part of him of him can’t commit to such a thought.
His daughters posture slumps as she lets out a long, shaky exhale, “I’m sorry,” she mutters, her temper slowly draining from her, just like the color from her surroundings as they attempt to rest, the rich red sands slowly turning grey, “it’s just… hard, tiring.” She’d give anything to be free of this, to be able to live as all the others and no longer have to watch her own back out of fear.
Elysium listens to her quietly as she speaks, eyes drifting away from her as a twinge of guilt pangs in his core.
“The worst part of this is… I think that Tyrian is similar,” everything about him felt and looked unnatural, those colorless coat and eyes… it reminded her of herself, “but if that’s the case… I don’t understand why I’d be attacked.”
Finally, Elysium speaks, “he felt spiteful,” that composure, there was no rage within any of that Tyrians actions… it was… perhaps boredom? Curiosity? He can’t quite put his paw on it exactly. “If there are others like you, though… perhaps there is a chance of there being a cure? Or, at the very least… a way for you to control it.” The environment didn’t drain around that Tyrian, even in the brief moments of stillness… there is more to learn about this affliction.
Behemoth nods in agreement, though she’s doing so stiffly, her stress obvious, even despite having calmed down, somewhat.
A stress that has Elysium pondering for a moment… before he’s gesturing with a paw for Behemoth to come over to him, his arm lifting up his own cloak as an offering, “Moth..?”
His daughter tenses… and then droops as she can’t even find the energy to try and stubbornly refuse his offer of comfort as she gets up from where she’s sitting, her weary paws bringing her over to her father, before she’s flopping ungracefully beside him, allowing him to drape his cloak over her.
“...Do you really think I’ll be safe once we reach the city?” She murmurs tiredly, she can’t even bother to pretend to think about her fathers safety, not when it’d be easy for him to achieve such safety if he were to part ways with her. Her body aches from her numerous injuries, and while Elysium has patched her up to the best of his abilities… he’s under prepared, the supplies they’ve packed not allowing him to truly mend her wounds.
“I think so,” Elysium confirms as he rests his head atop his front legs, his tail curling around his daughter, “but get some rest, dear, I’ll take night watch.” It’s too risky, unfortunately, for them to both sleep, “we’ll get moving once the sun rises.”
“Alright,” she’s shutting her eyes, the tension in her body easing at her fathers protection. She’s not about to protest the idea of getting a full night of sleep after all of this.
Elysium watches her quietly as she attempts to settle in for sleep, before his gaze turns out to the vast desert that surrounds them on all sides. With any luck, they’ll be able to get through the night without interruption.
…By the stars, he hopes their hunter has left them.
Training: Stage 1
The world is wide, and sometimes we need a break - depict your Reosean taking comfort in something, whether it be a parent, a favorite blanket, etc.
Vays: Behemoth 9519 and Elysium 7675
WC: 1028