It hurts, the she-elf sucked in a sharp breath. Her lungs burned and she gasped for air, still flinging herself through the midnight sky to the best of her ability. Behind her, Sylvian could hear the sound of yet another arrow soaring through the air, but she managed to dodge that one.
Hunters.
Mortal ones, the worst kind. Humans, an orc and their hounds had somehow tracked down the winged elf and assaulted her during her travels through one the continent and although Sylvian had survived and fought her way out of the dangerous situation, the Avariel had been injured and wooden arrows now pierced her white wings. With blood dripping down from her wounds, it was only a matter of time until she fell and they would find her.
Alas, the female elf wasn’t one to surrender, not to fate nor anyone else, and when Sylvian spotted a small lake in the distance, she gathered what was left of her strength and ascended higher. The lake was large, without a doubt deep and peacefully undisturbed at this ungodly hour. Her plan wasn’t as much of a plan as it was a last resort, but she needed to rest – and bring as much distance as possible between herself and those brutes.
The Avariel landed somewhere in the middle of the lake, far away from the shore, where she froze the water and created a small island for her to rest on. There, Sylvian fell to her knees and buckled over, pressing her hands against her abdomen while the adrenaline rush faded and the pain in her back grew more and more intense. Pearls of sweat dripped down her temples and with a grim expression, the pale woman lifted her head and glared into the distance.
Her white dress was stained with both dirt and blood and Sylvian’s silver hair had become a frizzled mess that fell far below her waist.
"I refuse to die here," she told herself, quietly repeating those words like a mantra.
"I refuse to die here."
--
OOC: Fynaurie come save me!
Hunters.
Mortal ones, the worst kind. Humans, an orc and their hounds had somehow tracked down the winged elf and assaulted her during her travels through one the continent and although Sylvian had survived and fought her way out of the dangerous situation, the Avariel had been injured and wooden arrows now pierced her white wings. With blood dripping down from her wounds, it was only a matter of time until she fell and they would find her.
Alas, the female elf wasn’t one to surrender, not to fate nor anyone else, and when Sylvian spotted a small lake in the distance, she gathered what was left of her strength and ascended higher. The lake was large, without a doubt deep and peacefully undisturbed at this ungodly hour. Her plan wasn’t as much of a plan as it was a last resort, but she needed to rest – and bring as much distance as possible between herself and those brutes.
The Avariel landed somewhere in the middle of the lake, far away from the shore, where she froze the water and created a small island for her to rest on. There, Sylvian fell to her knees and buckled over, pressing her hands against her abdomen while the adrenaline rush faded and the pain in her back grew more and more intense. Pearls of sweat dripped down her temples and with a grim expression, the pale woman lifted her head and glared into the distance.
Her white dress was stained with both dirt and blood and Sylvian’s silver hair had become a frizzled mess that fell far below her waist.
"I refuse to die here," she told herself, quietly repeating those words like a mantra.
"I refuse to die here."
--
OOC: Fynaurie come save me!