Bass Drop
1316 words
1316 words
Ignis felt hyper-aware of her situation: the uncomfortable pull of Amicus manipulating her vigor, the automatic recoil when Deni dragged her onto the newly-made platform, the pressure of his arms around her and the way it pressed the burnt remains of her cloak against her singed feathers. Even as she curled into a ball, a reflexive motion, small whimpers escaping her lips as Amicus’ attempts to take on her pain wavered. The feel of Deni’s calloused fingers stroking her feathers and the distant sound of his plea to Amicus seemed so far away.
Everything seemed to happen too quickly for the avian to follow, her eyes flickered back and forth beneath her pale eyelids, pupils wide.
Numbly, the enlil stroked Amicus.
Amicus pulled, no, yanked on her energy in a desperate attempt to shield them. It was too much. He had channeled too much of her energy in such a short time and was too exhausted, too distracted for this to work. The half-formed shield crumpled mid-air, raining bits of bark and leaf down on their heads. It burned.
The mons infans’ control slipped.
Ignis screamed.
She was painfully aware of everything. Her throat was raw and sore, there were nasty burns on her back, especially over what had previously been a freshly healed wound. The worst of the hot, stinging sensation was on her right side where she’d been blasted by a pillar of flames while trying to save Deni. The feathers -- or what was left of them-- on the entirety of that side of her torso and shoulder were singed badly, some of them still crumbling away.
A hoarse sound accompanied by a stabbing pain in her throat let her know she was still screaming. The enlil forced herself to stop. The agony was nearly overwhelming, but not quite. Getting crushed beneath a basilisk, she thought, hurt much more than this.
Ignis gasped and panted harshly.
A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob rasped out from between her cracked lips. “The basilisk hit harder than that...” she noted in a bitter whisper.
The blackness surrounding her made the engineer realize her eyes weren’t open. She made a half hearted effort, but stopped. They felt glued shut.
Amicus finally stopped shivering, something Ignis had only been able to take note of peripherally, and opened his eyes.
The mostly clear field of vision took over for Ignis’ current lack of sight. She gasped as she saw her own face littered with cuts and smeared with ashes. Dried tears and ash seemed to be what was holding her eyes shut. Her face was scrunched, lips pressed into a firm line.
Funny, Ignis thought, I didn’t really feel that until I saw it for myself.
Her cloak was ruined and the best descriptor for her body was ‘charred’. The enlil mourned the loss of her rust-colored feathers. It would take a good month and a half to regrow everything. She winced at the sight of some of the softer, downy feathers crumbling into ash. Ignis would have to preen for hours.
Then, Amicus’ gaze turned to Deni, who despite not having much of a coat left and thoroughly singed shorts, looked much better off than she. Oh, sure, those darkened spots were most definitely awful burns, but the engineer would bet her life’s savings that he could regrow his skin and scales before she could restore her plumage. She didn’t even want to think about the stage of her head feathers.
Perhaps Ignis should have been more concerned. This lack of forethought and care was exactly what had landed her here. At the very least, her previous misadventures had an excuse --bad circumstances, trying to settle a perceived debt and prove herself stronger and more capable than she had been in the first misadventure-- but this, this had been pure caprice.
Another rough chuckle made her throat ache.
Amicus worried; knowing that the delirium of shock was setting in and being worried about the content of her dazed thoughts which resulted from the former were not mutually exclusive.
Ignis tried to tell Amicus not to worry, not with words, but with a feeling of reassurance. Everything would be just fine. They would rest up a minute, then Amicus would heal Deni’s other leg so he could help them get to safety. Then, with the help of salves and potions, the rest of their injuries could be healed.
After all of this, the enlil would finally be able to take a hot bath and preen. Her nose wrinkled the scent of burnt flesh and feathers. Yes, she would give anything not to smell like this anymore. Her stomach stirred at the odor.
Amicus tugged on what was left of the hem of Deni’s shorts.
A loud sound, sounding a bit too distant, startled the enlil. Her ears popped.
Ignis groaned. Her grasp on reality was starting to slip. Unconsciousness was tempting; if she wasn’t awake, her stomach wouldn’t keep twisting and turning like this. She didn’t really feel herself roll onto her hands and knees, weight mostly supported by her left side just in time to vomit.
The acidic mess seared her throat. Coughing, she backed away from the puddle as best she could and fell, beginning to succumb to her injuries.
She thought she heard Deni say something to her, but Ignis couldn’t really understand it. Her last coherent musings consisted of a distaste for the smell of sick rivalling that for the smell of burning flesh.
Hazily, the engineer fought to stay awake, but the world was spinning.
“Ouch...” she rasped.
Ignis sucked in another pained breath. Why did breathing hurt so much? Why did it smell so bad? Why couldn’t she see anymore? What had that sound been?
Amicus rustled, alarmed and looked up at Deni imploringly. Without Ignis, the little mons infans had no way to tell Deni what they needed. He grasped her vigor once more and pulled. Hoping Deni would understand, the familiar began to heal the rogue’s other leg. He pointed to Ignis, then to Cora, himself, Deni, and finally away and rustled urgently. They needed to leave. Now.
Meanwhile, the avian felt herself sliding sideways and tumbling downwards within her own body. Spiralling inside her head, down, down, down.
A dry, ragged laugh resonated in her chest. Ignis held onto reality the way a child clutches sand in their fists, grains slipping through the tight grasp of short, fat fingers.
Ignis was a child once more, wide eyed and clinging to her mother’s cloak as they slipped through the crowds in the outskirts of a district somewhere in Terminus. She tugged on the red fabric of a garment that had once seemed so large and endless, an infinite fortress of safety that could swallow her up.
“Look, Mama,” the small avian chirped, pointing with a stubby, claw tipped finger. The little claws adorning her hands were cute, but sharp like kittens’ teeth compared to the talons her adult self bore.
Ignis couldn’t see her mother’s face, but the child knew the woman had turned to see what she pointed at.
A dragon, not like the one her adult counterpart had fought, but a beautiful and mystical being. Its sapphire scales were iridescent and shimmery, ruby red eyes enchanting. Majestic wings moved powerfully as the creature twisted through the air. Upon closer inspection, the dragon was a bit transparent.
Below it, a cloaked woman moved her arms about in wide, sweeping motions to guide the dragon.
“Ignis!” Her mother snatched her up so fast, her talons pricked the child. “That’s dangerous!”
“But Ma--” the child tried to protest, but the dragon turned on the cloaked woman that had been guiding it and closed its jaws around her arms.
Ignis squawked loudly and her vision went red as her mother’s cloak surrounded her, ensconcing her in the safety of its depths.