grow wings and rage + o, visitor

[ISIDORE.]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border: 0%;width:60%;text-align:justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13.5px;"]A yell is ringing in his ears, splitting the fibers of the hairs that now spiked upwards along his back. It’s a sharp feeling, almost like he can taste his own blood in his mouth again, and he’s galloping through the land trying to find where the noise is coming from. Where the scent of metallic, warm fluid and flesh is coming from. For a minute he thinks he’s bursting into a war zone, and that’s what makes him start to tingle, begin to feel numbness echo through his bones. For a moment, as he appears between the foliage, he’s out of breath, pacing around and catching sight of Eternalwar, Moon, and the mass of blood and muscle that’s heaving in front of them.

”Fucking hell ...” He exhales deeply, staggering back from the mess. Was he about to watch someone die. Isidore swallowed, the feeling rough, like the inside of his throat was getting all cut up. He couldn’t watch this, not again. But he couldn’t leave, no, he became shackled to the earth as soon as he saw Moon frozen in the atmosphere. ”Wha ...” Dory fumbled out, almost beginning to beckon the boy to continue on with what he was doing, but concern began to ripple on to his features as Feyre began to speak. ”W-Wait ... wait.” And he lulled into silence, pulled in by the display of the injured lion, reaching up towards Moon. And just slowly beginning to form words, a gasp, a mumble, he craned in to hear what the dying being had to say.