Adra woke to the sound of Drakon's receding footsteps. Again? He was getting too old for this shit.
He followed, leveraging his ability to move faster so that he could travel quieter and go noticed. Something wasn't right here - Drakon wasn't fleeing...he was chasing. Something was beckoning the man, driving him to action. All of Adra's senses snapped into sharp focus. Whatever was about to happen, it was bad.
Adrastus had grown up having to prove his worth to everyone, including himself. He understood what it meant to be pulled into conflict by circumstance and fate. He also knew that some battles needed to be fought alone. So, unless there was no other choice, Adra would let Drakon handle it. After all, this wasn't Adra's fight - it was Drakon's.
That being said, sitting by as Drakon allowed himself to be pushed over the edge into a blind rage was a serious test of Adra's formidable self-discipline. The addition of a dragon into the mix didn't help. A motherfucking dragon. Was this really happening?
The world around Adrastus seemed to slow down to a crawl and he idly noticed he had pulled out his sword and was ready to launch himself into action if the situation needed it. Trusting that Drakon could handle things was one thing, but experience demanded he be ready to intervene if that trust turned out to be misplaced. It was, then, through the lens of distorted time that Adra got to watch the horror and carnage Drakon was capable of when he had completely shrugged off the tether of self-control. It was sloppy, emotional, and one of the most brutal demonstrations of power he'd seen in a very long time. If the Gör ever got his head in the game, he'd be indomitable. Albert was a fool for not seeing Drakon's potential.
Adra pulled his mind away from thoughts of Albert Van Markham as Drakon launched himself into action and began pounding the body of the final hunter into a chunky pulp without the desire or ability to stop. The fight was over, and Drakon was now drowning in his own fury.
Then Adra was there, behind Drakon, his arms wrapping around the other man's chest in an effort to pull him off the decimated husk that had once been a person. [color=#7CD98A]"Drakon, Drakon he's dead. It's over." [/color]Adra knew intervening was dangerous, but Drakon needed a lifeline. Drakon needed him.
He followed, leveraging his ability to move faster so that he could travel quieter and go noticed. Something wasn't right here - Drakon wasn't fleeing...he was chasing. Something was beckoning the man, driving him to action. All of Adra's senses snapped into sharp focus. Whatever was about to happen, it was bad.
Adrastus had grown up having to prove his worth to everyone, including himself. He understood what it meant to be pulled into conflict by circumstance and fate. He also knew that some battles needed to be fought alone. So, unless there was no other choice, Adra would let Drakon handle it. After all, this wasn't Adra's fight - it was Drakon's.
That being said, sitting by as Drakon allowed himself to be pushed over the edge into a blind rage was a serious test of Adra's formidable self-discipline. The addition of a dragon into the mix didn't help. A motherfucking dragon. Was this really happening?
The world around Adrastus seemed to slow down to a crawl and he idly noticed he had pulled out his sword and was ready to launch himself into action if the situation needed it. Trusting that Drakon could handle things was one thing, but experience demanded he be ready to intervene if that trust turned out to be misplaced. It was, then, through the lens of distorted time that Adra got to watch the horror and carnage Drakon was capable of when he had completely shrugged off the tether of self-control. It was sloppy, emotional, and one of the most brutal demonstrations of power he'd seen in a very long time. If the Gör ever got his head in the game, he'd be indomitable. Albert was a fool for not seeing Drakon's potential.
Adra pulled his mind away from thoughts of Albert Van Markham as Drakon launched himself into action and began pounding the body of the final hunter into a chunky pulp without the desire or ability to stop. The fight was over, and Drakon was now drowning in his own fury.
Then Adra was there, behind Drakon, his arms wrapping around the other man's chest in an effort to pull him off the decimated husk that had once been a person. [color=#7CD98A]"Drakon, Drakon he's dead. It's over." [/color]Adra knew intervening was dangerous, but Drakon needed a lifeline. Drakon needed him.
04-02-2023, 07:30 PM
