Nephenee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
relentless_sentinel) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
childrenofbahamutlogs2025-04-18 12:02 am
relentless_sentinel) wrote in childrenofbahamutlogs2025-04-18 12:02 am
Entry tags:
Oh, can Ah fight this feelin' any longer? Ah'm still too afraid to let it show.
WHO: Nephenee and Vanyel (Closed)
WHAT: Someone got seriously spooked by Death (literally) and needs to talk
WHERE: Neph's house
WHEN: Very shortly after this thread, so the 9th of April
WARNINGS: Possible language? Will edit any more in as needed
SUMMARY: Shy ice dragon needs hugs and comfort from the hot fire dragon she likes? It's what it says on the tin, really!
Go! ¡Salir de aquí al carajo!
The unfamiliar words rang through her ears as Nephenee tore through the skies, flying faster than she’d thought possible to get away from the forest.
She might not have known the language, but that tone and his stance had said everything:
Get the hell out of here!
Well, he didn't have to tell her twice. When Death told you to get? You got.
Adrenaline still raced through her as she sped onward, twisting and turning and diving to throw off her scent trail. But it wasn't long before her mind started replaying the scene, trying to figure out just what the hell happened?
She remembered the scent of deer blood and offal that had gotten her and Persi's attention, then coming across the creature that identified itself as Death. Even before he said his name, though, she'd known; it had felt too familiar to be anything but that. He'd toyed with her, and then...something changed in his stance and bearing, and he'd seemed to...want to help?
Finding a good river to dive into, she let herself plummet thirty, fourty feet, before gliding in, shifting midair to drop into the water as a beorc, heedless of if anyone was nearby to see her. This early in spring, it felt bracing. Normally, it'd be just what she needed, would clear her mind right up.
Her head breached the surface, and she took several deep, steeling breaths...that quickly became anything but steady.
That all had been before what he'd said.
A distracting urge to... seize you, drive your form into the ground, and TAKE from a desiring female what does not belong to me.
Nephenee, veteran of two wars, elite lancer of Crimea, and survivor of too many battles to count, felt sick.
Not just from the words. Not just from idea that she was some wild horse that had to be broken, or that he could take something from her.
That musk—wild and pervasive. Heat built inside her, her thoughts clouding over with it. An electricity there that told her exactly how far he was from her, how fast she could close the distance to get to him...
...To what? In case she had to attack? She preferred to be on the defensive, so that didn't make a lick of sense...
The Sentinel scrubbed at her skin, desperate to wash the scent of rot off her, to wash his scent away.
And just what the hell had he meant with that whole "desiring female" nonsense?! The thought had her gritting her teeth in frustration, revulsion...and that damned "something deeper" that was wearing real thin. She hadn't been desiring anything! Still wasn't!
She didn't want to admit many things to herself, as she climbed onto the riverbank and quickly dried off. They included that her teeth were chattering for reasons that had nothing to do with emerging from the chilly water. Or that she was shaking.
Nephenee, slayer of dragons, Sentinel under General Ike, guard for Her Majesty Queen Elincia, Blessed of Yune and Defier of Ashera, was terrified. And she didn't know what to do.
Had she been careful enough to throw off his scent, if he came after her? Was the Wishblade enough to stop him? Could she even defend herself from that powerful mind magic again?
Nephenee wasn't religious, hadn't been since the fall of Ashera. But, as she hurriedly dressed, she found herself whispering an unsteady prayer to Bahamut all the same.
She wanted to go home. But It felt so far out of reach...
The image of her little house here came to her, with a blazing fire and fresh tea to warm and comfort. Well...that was better than nothing. But...she was scared to be alone. She didn't feel safe.
As the word 'safe' drifted through her mind, the image of a familiar man came to her. Curiously, there was a slight feeling of...peace, there? She recalled when they'd cuddled not long ago, how that'd felt.
Safe.
...Gods, she didn't want to ask for help. But the way she was now? She'd never sleep, and if she was attacked, she'd be useless if Death caught her when she was too weary to fight. So, swallowing her pride as a soldier, and a lot of fear besides, she sent Vanyel a voice message, trying desperately to not sound like a panicked rabbit about to bolt.
...Vanyel? It's...Nephenee. Ah...Ah need...C-Can ya come to my house, please? S-Soon? Please?
Yep...definitely succeeded at that, Nephie. Ashera, that'll not worry him at all.
Grousing at herself, she picked up her pacing, hoping to outrun both Death and all the baggage he'd brought in with him.
And the wind, usually a comfort and a joy, what lifted her wings and made her soar, now betrayed her—carrying amber, apple blossom, marigold, cedar... and the bitter edge of fear to anyone with a nose to catch it.
When she finally reached her house, she barreled through the door, slamming it shut behind her and locking it with more force than necessary. With her back pressed to the wood, she struggled to hear anything beyond her pulse pounding in her ears and the silence inside and out. The familiar scent of her home—warm and earthy—felt like an insult now, felt too close to where he'd been. The sense of safety she'd anticipated was nowhere to be found—like the building's walls and roof might not keep out the darkness and danger outside.
And forcing herself to move, to prepare, Nephenee found herself feeling terribly empty and alone.
WHAT: Someone got seriously spooked by Death (literally) and needs to talk
WHERE: Neph's house
WHEN: Very shortly after this thread, so the 9th of April
WARNINGS: Possible language? Will edit any more in as needed
SUMMARY: Shy ice dragon needs hugs and comfort from the hot fire dragon she likes? It's what it says on the tin, really!
Go! ¡Salir de aquí al carajo!
The unfamiliar words rang through her ears as Nephenee tore through the skies, flying faster than she’d thought possible to get away from the forest.
She might not have known the language, but that tone and his stance had said everything:
Get the hell out of here!
Well, he didn't have to tell her twice. When Death told you to get? You got.
Adrenaline still raced through her as she sped onward, twisting and turning and diving to throw off her scent trail. But it wasn't long before her mind started replaying the scene, trying to figure out just what the hell happened?
She remembered the scent of deer blood and offal that had gotten her and Persi's attention, then coming across the creature that identified itself as Death. Even before he said his name, though, she'd known; it had felt too familiar to be anything but that. He'd toyed with her, and then...something changed in his stance and bearing, and he'd seemed to...want to help?
Finding a good river to dive into, she let herself plummet thirty, fourty feet, before gliding in, shifting midair to drop into the water as a beorc, heedless of if anyone was nearby to see her. This early in spring, it felt bracing. Normally, it'd be just what she needed, would clear her mind right up.
Her head breached the surface, and she took several deep, steeling breaths...that quickly became anything but steady.
That all had been before what he'd said.
A distracting urge to... seize you, drive your form into the ground, and TAKE from a desiring female what does not belong to me.
Nephenee, veteran of two wars, elite lancer of Crimea, and survivor of too many battles to count, felt sick.
Not just from the words. Not just from idea that she was some wild horse that had to be broken, or that he could take something from her.
That musk—wild and pervasive. Heat built inside her, her thoughts clouding over with it. An electricity there that told her exactly how far he was from her, how fast she could close the distance to get to him...
...To what? In case she had to attack? She preferred to be on the defensive, so that didn't make a lick of sense...
The Sentinel scrubbed at her skin, desperate to wash the scent of rot off her, to wash his scent away.
And just what the hell had he meant with that whole "desiring female" nonsense?! The thought had her gritting her teeth in frustration, revulsion...and that damned "something deeper" that was wearing real thin. She hadn't been desiring anything! Still wasn't!
She didn't want to admit many things to herself, as she climbed onto the riverbank and quickly dried off. They included that her teeth were chattering for reasons that had nothing to do with emerging from the chilly water. Or that she was shaking.
Nephenee, slayer of dragons, Sentinel under General Ike, guard for Her Majesty Queen Elincia, Blessed of Yune and Defier of Ashera, was terrified. And she didn't know what to do.
Had she been careful enough to throw off his scent, if he came after her? Was the Wishblade enough to stop him? Could she even defend herself from that powerful mind magic again?
Nephenee wasn't religious, hadn't been since the fall of Ashera. But, as she hurriedly dressed, she found herself whispering an unsteady prayer to Bahamut all the same.
She wanted to go home. But It felt so far out of reach...
The image of her little house here came to her, with a blazing fire and fresh tea to warm and comfort. Well...that was better than nothing. But...she was scared to be alone. She didn't feel safe.
As the word 'safe' drifted through her mind, the image of a familiar man came to her. Curiously, there was a slight feeling of...peace, there? She recalled when they'd cuddled not long ago, how that'd felt.
Safe.
...Gods, she didn't want to ask for help. But the way she was now? She'd never sleep, and if she was attacked, she'd be useless if Death caught her when she was too weary to fight. So, swallowing her pride as a soldier, and a lot of fear besides, she sent Vanyel a voice message, trying desperately to not sound like a panicked rabbit about to bolt.
...Vanyel? It's...Nephenee. Ah...Ah need...C-Can ya come to my house, please? S-Soon? Please?
Yep...definitely succeeded at that, Nephie. Ashera, that'll not worry him at all.
Grousing at herself, she picked up her pacing, hoping to outrun both Death and all the baggage he'd brought in with him.
And the wind, usually a comfort and a joy, what lifted her wings and made her soar, now betrayed her—carrying amber, apple blossom, marigold, cedar... and the bitter edge of fear to anyone with a nose to catch it.
When she finally reached her house, she barreled through the door, slamming it shut behind her and locking it with more force than necessary. With her back pressed to the wood, she struggled to hear anything beyond her pulse pounding in her ears and the silence inside and out. The familiar scent of her home—warm and earthy—felt like an insult now, felt too close to where he'd been. The sense of safety she'd anticipated was nowhere to be found—like the building's walls and roof might not keep out the darkness and danger outside.
And forcing herself to move, to prepare, Nephenee found herself feeling terribly empty and alone.