[size=9pt]"Here, here," comes the voice of Moon, sucking air in quick breaths between his words. He's all too predictable; at Eternalwar's shout for help, the young lion came speeding through the plains as fast as his injured body would take him. He skids to a halt behind the dragon, and falls down beside the stranger on the ground just as quick. This doesn't look good; he'd only gotten a glance, but the stuttering rise and fall of her of her chest suggests nothing good. Distracted and desperate, Moon pours his bag out on the ground, searches for some cob webs, cloth, anything. He turns her way, and--
Ahkuli. Her face paint, the jagged cut up one side of her lip, how she's got his cheekbones, and his eyes-- He's stared at himself in the mirror wanting to rip the features from his skin too many times; he recognizes her the moment he lays eyes on her. Ahkuli; Princess, Murderer, his mother's right-hand-woman. Shadows pass over her face in the shape of wings, and he should have known. Those vultures follow her everywhere she goes. It's been so long, but that same cold fear crawls up his spine, wraps its claws around his heart. There's images in his brain that flicker to life like they do every night, but here, now, they're so much stronger. He can hear his own sobs, high pitched as a child's are, and he can't breathe. Like a shadow or a wave, her presence takes him in it's grasp and his muscles won't work. His voice won't sound. She lifts a paw to his face, steady, deadly, and she starts to speak. He's frozen.
Ahkuli. Her face paint, the jagged cut up one side of her lip, how she's got his cheekbones, and his eyes-- He's stared at himself in the mirror wanting to rip the features from his skin too many times; he recognizes her the moment he lays eyes on her. Ahkuli; Princess, Murderer, his mother's right-hand-woman. Shadows pass over her face in the shape of wings, and he should have known. Those vultures follow her everywhere she goes. It's been so long, but that same cold fear crawls up his spine, wraps its claws around his heart. There's images in his brain that flicker to life like they do every night, but here, now, they're so much stronger. He can hear his own sobs, high pitched as a child's are, and he can't breathe. Like a shadow or a wave, her presence takes him in it's grasp and his muscles won't work. His voice won't sound. She lifts a paw to his face, steady, deadly, and she starts to speak. He's frozen.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]