This is a great kicker to the end of the Dag story. The artwork's beautiful and the minimal text is perfect.

Have some wurds. Take or leave them as you please, it's just what I imagine Noe was doing while she was with him in forest. Poor guy.

- - - - -

The discovery of the battered beast was no accident. She had passed and rounded him once not long after he collapsed to give him time to settle and close his eyes and fall to sleep if his pain would permit it. In passing him the first time, she had also taken the chance to inspect his wounds and decide which herbs might best aid his many injuries. There were moments when the doe proved shrewd. One would expect as much when she had bathed in some of the worst bloodbaths the forest had ever seen.

She returned before long and, just as she expected, the dark bull lay motionless where he had crumpled. She took a place beside him, deposited what reagents she had brought with her where they were easily accessible, and began her work.

The worst of the wounds were cleaned with the gentlest of strokes. Her saliva, surprisingly, had a numbing quality. One might speculate it was the work of something she chewed or ate just prior to this moment. Deep punctures in his shoulders were packed with moist moss and topped with beneficial herbs that fought both infection and pain. Long cuts were covered with fine spider webs that sparkled with fog-made dew. And always, she was careful and vigilant as she listened for sounds of protest or agony. She was unfaltering, however. As stubborn and unyielding as he and his opponent had been not so long ago. And then she was finished and she let allowed the Stormbringer undisturbed respite.

I just teared up.

Ephiré had many visitors who had come and gone, the Red observed throughout the day. And come nightfall, when others had departed, he made his approach, melting out from the thick of the birch with silent steps.

The scent of blood was still near overpowering, and the hart had to fight back the instinct to flee. He slowly sat himself besides the moose-like figure he considered close, and after a short time started to clean any less tended wounds he could find, as well as trying to clean up any remaining bloodied patches.

In his well intentions, he had identified two scents, both from very dear friends. His heart sank, he knew little of the fight, the reasons behind it, or even the outcome. But Ephiré needed to rest, therefore he would be spared from the questions the smaller stag wanted to ask.

The Red stayed by Ephiré's side throughout the night.

Selruil: Thank you :)

Dag: <3!

Lung: ---!

Hraeth: Thank you, I'm glad you like it c: and yesss wurds, lovely wurds!

The usually ever watchful giant had not noticed her the first time she came around; few things managed to get his attention through the fog of pain and tiredness while he waited for sleep to claim him.

The second time she comes he sleeps, a restless dream-slumber. Behind pale eylids his eyes slids back and forth; he is dreaming. A back leg twitches slightly once.
Most of the blood on his hide has dried now, but some of the larger wounds are still wet. From the deepest of the puncture wounds there still is a small trickle of blood.

Once, when she cleans a scrape on his back, he opens his eyes. Not awake, but not really sleeping either. He turns his head slightly, just enough to let his unseeing eyes meet her form. He blinks once and then closes his eyes again. Deep breaths indicate that he sleeps -- now calmer than before.


Kaoori: Aw ;_; I'm sorry for making you cry but also happy that it invokes such a feeling. Thank you <3 Looking forward to it!


Pegasicorn: ...I'm glad, I think, I aimed for something rather sad.


Sight:

The large stag lies as still as ever when she tends to his wounds. No reaction, no sign that he notices the little black doe.

But when she at last lies down beside him, whispering about gentle things, one slightly torn ear swivel around towards her. Perhaps only a sleeping body's reflex, or perhaps somewhere in the sleep-maze of his mind a trickle of light shines through.

Sorry for such a short response XD
Thank you <3 I'm glad you think so!



Vee:

The warmth of a body against his own helps to keep the black dreams away throughout the night, even if he does nothing to accknowledge the Hart beside him; the raven stag only lies unmoving.

Augh short, but maybe there will be more of them in the future!


Munkel:
Thank you <3 I'm glad you enjoyed it, it was very fun to do!

Wow... Gorgeous.

:<

The air was eerie, lonely and still. Alien to breathe. Slow was the pace of a heavy bull; Thump... Thump... Thump... A stranger in these lands. It was following after a trace, a dried blood trace. Perhaps a day old or so. Of unknown creature... It must be dead, such a blood loss. 'til the bull raised his gaze, towards a silhouette between the birch trees. The bull stops for a while, determining whether it is safe or not. Then he continues, little he has to fear, yet as the silhouette draws near... It gets bigger, and bigger... And as it lies just 5 meters away, the immovable stag is just as massive as himself. And alive. It's breath is deep, it's airways sounds irritated. Hot spots indicates that it is very injured, and indeed the one who's spilled such a long trace. He didn't expected this... He should leave. But he can't. For he understands. A weight lingering in the air located its source. He knows it, he was there once himself. In the pit. At the edge of everything... He is curious, as to what matters that this stag is so broken for, although it is none of his business... He sees many traces of other visitors around, this stag must be of some greater significance. The bull offers his silence as respect, yet as he knows that there is little he can do he scruffs a mark in the ground so the unknown champion may know of his presence, and that he didn't went any closer. And after a long and painful stare, the bull turns around, and walks back to the dense woods from whence he came, carrying with him an image.

All too aware and familiar of fates and destinies, the doe dared not question why the seemingly calm ephire was coated with blood. Why the fortress was missing. Why dandelion hill had been torn apart by scathing talons of a fight.

No.

She would not question. Only accept with strides forward. The forest had never scented so strong of copper and blood, it almost made her sick. Ravenflight gently lowered her frame beside Ephire. She sat as he rested, just as he had done all those days for her. Rested. Watched. Two raven beings. A conspiracy?

And maybe, when Ephire awoke, he would notice the small peacock feather lying at his feet, a small token. It would glint occasionally of an other-worldy blue glow, a feather that was very much alive.

[What a coincidence... I was just listening at Lisa Gerrard yesterday ♥]

Omg. Your art is always so amazing... I love the feeling who comes out of this blog. I always loved this character from afar. It's so sad...
Made me cry a little. More when I've read "I'm sorry, Mother", as I always loved the idea of a stone as 'mother', a confident.
I love the effect you gave to the blood and the drawings in general.

Pff ;; ♥