The last thing anyone was expecting was a god to fall out of the sky. Piotr, who was unlucky enough to be standing under the god when he landed, probably expected it less than anyone. Unlike the rest, though, he was spared having to deal with the consequences.
The god lay there, groaning. It was Shaeyl, one of the twin hermaphrodite gods of Love and Lovers – her brilliant silver hair was stained and dirty with the chaos of her fall, but her birthmark, in the shape of half a heart, was distinctive and unmistakable. It was also sporting a large cut separating its upper third from its lower third.
The humans fled – their kind never could abide the presence of the divine – leaving only their prey, a lone elf, to approach the god. She was in pain, injured and bleeding. The elf was puzzled by this, but there would plenty of time to solve that puzzle later. He moved closer. The god was clearly alive, and surely the man she had landed upon could not have survived such an impact. He checked anyway, to make certain of it. The one called Piotr was dead. A shame she hadn’t landed on Silas instead – without their leader, the humans might have given up the chase entirely, he thought, then chided himself for his lack of charity.
So, the humans would be back soon. What of it? In the meantime, he sought to give what aid he could. Such was the code he lived by, and nothing mattered more than. He was distantly aware that the humans who had pursued him had stopped running and started talking amongst themselves. When they had found all their stragglers and re-formed their numbers, they would likely return to finish him, but that was unimportant. They would not attack him again while he stood so near a god, just in case doing so angered the god. At least, he hoped they wouldn’t.
Feeds
@CentreCantHold